Me: I look forward to dinner.
My heart races in my chest. Why? Because Meridea’s cooking dinner for me?Be on your best behavior, Declan.
I glance through the restaurant’s glass door and catch her eye. She’s laughing hysterically, clearly enjoying herself. My stomach twists. Great. What did my parents say to her? Hopefully, nothing too embarrassing.
My dad glances over his shoulder, meeting my gaze. My younger brother Donovan looks more like dad than me. I have the same color hair and eyes as Dad. My brother’s facial features mirror Dad’s. Even though his hair is blond and eyes are blue like mom’s. I still resemble mom just in a more masculine sense.
One of the reasons I moved back four years ago was because my dad was struggling when mom was battling cancer. It seemed like he was giving up too.
I’m not sure my dad would last on this earth without her.
That’s what I didn’t want. That kind of love where you couldn’t go on without the other person. I squeeze my eyes shut at the pain my family felt during that time.
Meridea was starting life over. What better place to do that than with me. So what if I plan to keep her here and not let her go. I’m not going to develop those pesky things called feelings.
Meridea is wearing her signature black cap low over her face, trying not to be recognized in our small town where she is known as ‘the woman with the black cap.’
Sitting at the head of my opulent dining table, I tug at the green collared shirt under my black blazer. Meridea sets down a plate piled high with chicken breasts smothered in sauce, as well as mashed potatoes, asparagus, and buttered rolls.
“You didn’t have to do all this, Meridea.”
She smiles sweetly. “I wanted to. You’ve been kind to me, and this is the least I can do to show my appreciation.”
“Everything looks delicious,” I say.
Meridea pours red wine into both of our glasses before taking a seat caddy corner to my right. “My mother always said that knowing how to cook is essential; you never know when you’ll need it.”
Her smile falters for a moment. “And she was right. I had a personal chef for eight years of my life, but my mom loved cooking, and I always enjoyed watching or helping out in the kitchen. I enjoy baking over cooking,” she confesses.
“I make amazing chocolate chip cookies.” Meridea takes a bite of her mashed potatoes.
“You should consider baking some and giving them to customers as they leave. If they’re a hit, you could even sell them for extra profit.”
Her eyes light up with excitement. “Really?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Little does she know, any money she makes will go straight into her pocket to use as she pleases in Blue Haven. She’s not going anywhere.
“I’ve been working on a plan to deal with Glenn and his buddies,” I say, cutting into the chicken. The first bite melts in my mouth, the flavors a perfect balance of herbs and sauce. Damn. She can cook.
I think I’m in love.
I chew slowly, pretending to consider the taste. In reality, I’m savoring every fucking bite.
I can tell Meridea wants to ask if I like her cooking, but she doesn’t.
“There’s a masquerade ball next Saturday,” I tell her between bites. “The kind of event where men like Glenn go to network for their dark web activities. You’ll text him, say you’ll meet him there and give him the flash drive he’s after. We’ll use it to draw him out—and hopefully take down a few others in the process. A little cleanup operation.” I flash a devilish grin.
Her lips tip upward. “I love that plan. You’ll let me be there when you take care of them, right?” She asks.
“You sure you want to see what I’m capable of? I have no problem cracking someone’s skull open.”
Her tongue slicks across her lips. “I’ll manage.”
My little Meridea thinks she’ll like watching me torture. “You’ll be right there with me and my brothers when we make them all pay.”
She brings the glass of wine to her lips. “Good.”
