Page 30 of Only You
Such a gentleman. Of course, all the Fitzpatrick boys were like that. She had a feeling Deirdre pounded those lessons into them.
“I’ll need to warm this up a little bit.”
She nodded and showed him to her kitchen. She wasn’t a cook, but the kitchen was made for one. It had a six-burner gas stove, a large island, and tons of glass-fronted cabinets.
“Wow, nice.”
“Don’t be fooled. I burn water when I try to boil it.”
He glanced at her with a lopsided grin that had her curling her toes inside her shoes.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m here. Did you want to get out of your work clothes?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
His laugh filled the kitchen. “Not like that, although if you offer, I would definitely be okay with it. You’ve worked a long day, and I figured you would prefer to get into some other clothes. I’m the same way when I get home.”
She shook her head. “Yeah, that does sound good. What do you need from me?”
His eyes heated. “So much, but for the moment, just some pots.”
For a second, she wondered about the first part of his comment, but she was too tired to think. Besides, she was probably reading more into it because she was exhausted.
“In the cabinet next to the stove.”
He nodded.
“I’ll be right back.”
“No rush. This will take about ten or fifteen minutes to heat it up. Brought some of that bread you like too.”
She almost moaned. She loved the garlicky crusty loaf they served with their soups and stews.
“Be right back.”
She hurried up the stairs and to her room. She stripped out of her shirt and realized she smelled of stale coffee and too many hours at work. Since he said it would be a few minutes, she decided to take a quick shower. She might look like death, but at least she wouldn’t smell like it.
The minute Declanheard the shower come on, he closed his eyes. He would not think of Eileen naked with the water dripping off her?—
His eyes shot open, and he glanced down. Yep, that’s all it took. An image of her in the shower and his unruly cock was raring to go. Hell, the moment she drove up, Declan had to count backward from ten to get himself under control. Granted, he had to do it three times before it worked.
He grabbed a pot—they would have to talk about her cookware because this one was dented and older than dirt—and filled it with the Irish stew she loved. In the past, he hadn’t knowingly cooked for her. Tonight, he had been dedicated to making this the best stew she had ever had.
After setting that on the burner, he tossed the bread into the oven to heat it up. The kitchen filled with the scents of his cooking. Something settled in his chest. It was the same feeling he got the first time he had stepped into the kitchen at Fitzpatrick’s. He grabbed a couple of bowls, along with small plates and thankfully, she had butter. The woman really didn’t have any food in her refrigerator. There had been a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay, two containers of yogurt—both out of date—and a six-pack of Guinness.
His phone went off with his mother’s ringtone. He would ignore it, but he knew better than to do that, especially after what happened.
“Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, yourself. I thought you might stop by tonight.”
He had thought about it, but that was before he started cooking for Eileen. Everything else in the world seemed to meltaway. All that mattered was what he had been doing for her. Declan wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“I made dinner for a friend since we were closed tonight.”
“A friend?”
This was the part he was uncomfortable with. His mother didn’t pry—especially in comparison to Joey Santini. Of course, there was a good chance that no one got into your business like Brando’s aunt. The CIA didn’t have people as talented as Joey when she ws on the trail of information. But, he figured it was better to just tear that bandage off.
