“Your parents must miss you very much.”
His handsome face screwed into a grimace. “They’re gone.”
Okaaay, best to leave that touchy subject alone. Seems they had that in common—prickly relationships with their families.
“May I, Mr. Snoot?” Kieran grabbed a towel and crouched to rub the sand from Snoot’s fur—a task the dog made easier by sprawling on his back. The smile Kieran flashed up at her ignited a whole squadron of fireflies in her belly.
He pushed to his feet. “Hope you don’t have a problem with dairy. There’s cream in the soup and plenty of cheese.” He rubbed his nose and cracked a boyish grin. “I went a little mad at the farmer’s market.”
“Are you kidding? I’d live on cheese if I could.” She sniffed the air. “Smells delicious.”
With his hand on the small of her back, a courtly gesture that sent tingles up her spine, he led her to a corner table set for two. She took a seat on the padded bench.
While Kieran gathered dishes and serving utensils, she checked out his quaint, cozy home. Hardwood floors polished to a high gloss, braided rugs in front of the stone fireplace and beneath the dining table, lots of old-timey photos and prints on the white-paneled walls, and—an incongruous but charming touch—trailing ivy in seventies-style macrame plant hangers. Old-fashioned with a hippie twist, comfy and welcoming.
Yum.
“I’ve got cider from the Salty Dog Brewery. It’s—” Kieran lifted a dark-brown growler and squinted at the label. “Spiced pear.”
“Sounds delish, thanks.”
He poured her a glass before filling his own glass with tap water. Huh. Was he in recovery?
He caught her sideways glance at his drink. “I do better without alcohol.” The corners of his full mouth quirked upward. “Despite the stereotype, not all Irishmen are lushes.”
“Of course they aren’t.” Her cheeks heated.
Kieran carried an old-fashioned soup tureen to the table, along with a basket of crusty peasant bread, a crock of butter, a green salad, and three kinds of artisanal cheese.
Addy surveyed the feast and gave a low whistle. “Wow. Were you a chef before you became a lighthouse keeper?”
He threw his head back and laughed, displaying the strong column of his throat—yet another delicious detail she’d love to explore.
Yikes, what was up with this sudden libido spike? She’d like to blame the cider, but she’d yet to taste a drop.
“My job was about as far away from chefing as you can get.” He ladled soup into her bowl, then passed a small dish of pumpkin seeds to sprinkle on top. “Though I did take my turn cooking for the crew.”
“What kind of crew?” She reached for the bread. “Let me guess—you were a firefighter?”
Kieran flinched, and his lips thinned into a tight line, though he quickly hid his reaction behind a teasing smile. “Ah, ah, ah.” He slathered his slice with butter. “You first.”
Well, poop. She’d hoped to dance around that topic. Stalling, she dipped her spoon into the soup and brought it to her lips, then moaned as rich, pumpkin-y velvet slid over her tongue.
Kieran chuckled around his own spoonful. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about your work. I’m interested in you, Addy, not your resume.”
Well, their easy rapport was nice while it lasted. She gripped her spoon tighter and braced herself for the usual awkwardness. “I’m a surgeon. In the Army.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That would not have been my first guess.”
“Oh?” She gave him a playful grin. “What would you have guessed?”
He stroked his beard, kindling her desire to do the same. “Something outdoorsy, I’d think. But working with people. You have an air of kindness about you. I see it in the way you look out for Snoot.”
At the mention of his name, the dog set his chin on her knee and gazed up adoringly. Addy patted his broad head. “Well, who could meet this fella and not fall in love?”
“Compassionate,” Kieran continued, “that’s the word I want. I’d expect a surgeon to be more…” He scrunched his lips to the side.
“Detached? Clinical?” She tore off another chunk of bread. “I am, when I need to be. When you’re wrist-deep in someone’s belly, you can’t afford to get emotional about it.”
