His gaze flicked over, long enough for me to wonder what he was thinking. “You don’t have to do that, I can handle it.”
Chivalry? But maybe also a little….careful?
“Liam, how can I sneak a taste if I am not in the kitchen getting the table settings?”
He looked amused. “Alright, if it means that much to you, let's divide and conquer. I cook, you set the table.”
“Deal.”
“Do you always get the last word?”
“Yes.”
He just chuckled, shaking his head.
Once the table was set, I curled into the armchair and flipped my book open.
From the kitchen came the steady rhythm of Liam’s cooking, soft clinks, the faint pop of heat under a pan.
The story pulled me under, minutes unspooling, until Liam’s voice cut through. “Dinner’s ready.”
I set the book aside and stepped into the kitchen.
The scent hit me the second I stepped into the kitchen—rich, savory, like something from a restaurant you had to book months in advance.
“This smells incredible,” I said, my eyes drawn to the pot simmering on the stove.
“I’ll bring it over,” Liam said, already reaching for a ladle.
“I can help—”
“Sit,” he said, smiling without looking up.
I lingered, unwilling to give in that easily. “You cooked. I can at least—”
“Claire.” His gaze met mine, steady, almost amused. “Let me bring your dinner to you.”
Something in his tone made me stop arguing. I slipped into my chair, hands curling around the edge of the table, and let him.
I didn’t put these candles out.
Two white tapers burned in crystal holders, their light catching the rim of my wineglass.
Liam set my plate down first, his hand grazing mine before he stepped back. "Smells amazing,” I said. “Wait until you taste it,” he replied, moving around to set his own plate down.
I should’ve started eating, but I watched him instead. The easy way he carried himself, the faint steam curling from his plate, the way his sleeves were still rolled from cooking.
When he finally sat, our knees almost touched under the table.
His gaze caught mine. “Thanks for shifting your evening so we could still eat together.”
“Thank you for showing me how to braise,” I said. “I’ve never done that before.”
The corner of his mouth tipped, pleased. “Eat, before it gets cold.”
I picked up my fork, but what I really wanted was to keep looking at him.
Liam’s fork slowed midair, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You ever notice you always get the last word?”
