I half-listen to his report, but now I’m wondering what happened to leave Andie homeless before she came to live with me. If a lad is involved, he’d better watch his back if he doesn’t want his features rearranged.
ANDIE
It’s been a week since I started keeping house for Connor Fitzpatrick, and I have established what will hopefully be a good routine.
Today is dusting day. I’m going to have to dust once a week. This place is so enormous and the first floor, in particular, has so many knick-knacks.
I’m not sure why his “mammy” didn’t take them with her, but maybe she wanted to leave them here to remind Connor about her. It must have been hard for her to leave her son. Her only family. She must have felt wicked strong about the mafia just to up and go.
Humming to myself – I’m still not game to play music, even though Connor isn’t here – I wipe down the upright piano, straightening cushions as I go. This room is growing on me. No one uses it, but it’s fancy, and I don’t mind strolling through it.
I sat on one of the antique sofas the other day – no wonder no one uses the room. Pretty to look at, wicked uncomfortable to sit on.
Still humming, I move to the dining room, wiping down the large table. Connor hasn’t used it again. He is only home for dinner but always eats with me in the kitchen. It’s kind of nice. I’ve never really had family dinner before. Even Hamish wasn’t interested in eating anywhere but in front of the TV, never talking.
Connor and I don’t talk much about ourselves after the first night. Mainly we give abbreviated versions of our day and chat about Boston in general.
My dusting is interrupted by an insistent ringing of the doorbell. Connor didn’t mention guests. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to invite people in. Maybe it’s doorknockers. I’ll inform them we’re not interested.
I leave my dust cloth in the dining room and walk through the house. Twitching the curtains, I blink in surprise, opening the front door to a handsome dark-haired man around my age and a heavily pregnant, stunning brunette with enviable smoky eyes.
“I’m Tiggy Fitzpatrick,” she beams as she introduces herself, holding out her hand. Fitzpatrick. Like Connor. I should invite them in. Shouldn’t I?
“And we’re too exposed,” the young man snaps, chivvying us both inside, closing the door with a snap.
“Fitzpatrick.” I blink at her. “Are you related to Connor?”
Tiggy beams at me again, her eyes getting a soft, dewy look.
“I’m married to his cousin, Seamus,” she explains, throwing a glare over her shoulder, and gesturing at the young man. He glares back. “This rude person is Liam Kelly. The world’s most annoying shadow.”
“I wouldn’t be so annoying if you weren’t so frustrating,” he snaps back at her. I stand here, blinking at them as they proceed to bicker like siblings for a minute or so.
“Ah, should I make some tea?” I mumble awkwardly. Tiggy remembers herself, turning to me with another wide smile, her hands resting on her bulky stomach.
“That sounds heavenly.”
“Come through to the kitchen. I’ll get you a stool to put your feet up.”
Smiling gratefully, Tiggy follows me through the house, Liam trailing her, his eyes darting around.
For all his sniping and glaring, Liam fusses around Tiggy once we’re in the kitchen like he’s her granny or something. He makes sure she’s comfortably seated, with her feet up, furnished with a cup of tea and one of the cinnamon scrolls I baked this morning.
Once he’s content Tiggy is comfortably settled, Liam snatches up one of the scrolls and stuffs it in his mouth, a look of wonder crossing his face.
“No wonder Lucky’s hitting the gym so hard,” he mutters.
Tiggy and I turn to look at him in surprise. I have to bite back a grin as the meaning of his words hits me. “Lucky” must be Connor.
I remember the Irish charm he turned on when he first met me to put me at ease after he startled me. Yeah, “Lucky” suits him.
Connor seems to enjoy my cooking, and the absolutelydevoursmy baking. He must be putting additional hours into his workout to work off all the extra calories I’m feeding him. He mentioned his mother wasn’t a good cook, and now I feel warm and fuzzy.
“So, have you met anyone apart from us, Paddy and Lauren?" Tiggy asks, sipping her tea. I sink into the chair across from her, wrapping my hands around my mug and leaning forward on my forearms.
“No. I didn’t realize there were more people to meet.”
Tiggy waves her hand airily. “There’s Niall and Mellie, and also Ronan. Niall and Ronan are also members of my husband’s crew.”