“I need a break,”Colby mumbles as he leans away from the table in the library and rubs his eyes.
“I need food,” I grumble, only noticing how late it is when I tap on my phone’s screen. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.”
I pick up the monitor from the table then grab him by the arm, and though he whines over how his back hurts, he lets me drag him through the house.
“It’s been three days and we’ve gotnothing,” he whines.
“Seamus will find whatever there is to find about those accounts we told him to check out.” I intended for my words to make him feel better, relax, but instead he drops his head in defeat as we enter the kitchen.
Yes, it’s been three days, and whenever I’ve had some time with no work and Maggie’s been sleeping, we’ve been in the library. Rory’s even come to help a few times, but she’s not really the sit-and-read type.
I nudge Colby onto a stool at the breakfast bar and go see what I can find in the fridge.
“Yes, there’s still some Guinness stew from dinner,” I mumble and get out the container. Then I see potatoes and cabbage, and I suddenly need colcannon. I pass the container of stew to Colby. “Heat a little plate for each of us, yeah? And if you can wait around half an hour, I’m going to make colcannon.”
“You’re going to cook?” That seems to wake him right up.
“Yes.” I quickly peel the potatoes and put them to boil, all while I hear Colby putter around heating the stew.
“God, you’re even cooking vegetables and everything.”
I snort at the awe in his voice, and while the potatoes cook, I eat a bite of stew every now and then. I also check on Colby every minute or so, making sure he’s eating, and he is, but he keeps looking at me like I’m an alien.
It forces me to explain.
“Colcannon is the only thing my father knew how to cook, and he showed me.” I speak while I drain the potatoes, then I start mashing them. “It’s easy and cooking relaxes me, though I don’t have much time for it.”
“I can see that,” he says thoughtfully.
After that I manage to keep my mouth shut while I deal with making sure there are no big chunks of potatoes left,then I add the cabbage and onions and fold it all in before dishing up a big spoonful for each of us.
“I have to admit, this is good.”
“You saw me making it,” I defend myself.
“Well, yeah. But you never know.”
He smirks, and I feel my stupid shoulders relax. He’s teasing me. This is what I’ve been wanting from him, for him to relax around me, to see me as more than just the scary mob boss, though I’ll never stop being that.
“I’ve been trying to get over the shame of what we did in the car... that day.”
I look up and know I have to give him my full attention.
“You were ashamed?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, almost begging. “I’m not ashamed of you or of... shit.” He brings both hands up to cover his face, then rubs up and down harshly a few times before lowering his arms to look at me again. “I guess I was ashamed of wanting you, of not being able to control myself around you.”
“I like that about you,” I mumble.
I know it’s a good thing that he’s talking to me, that he’s saying all he’s thinking and feeling, but that doesn’t make it suck less.
“Of course you like that about me.” His wobbly smile is clearly his attempt at making light of this, and I want to give that to him. I don’t want to make him feel worse for feeling the way he does, but is he ever going to get over that shame?
I won’t stop being... who I am for him. I wouldn’t do that for anyone.
Not only because it’s the only thing I’m good at, but because I know I do more good than bad and because so many people depend on me.
“I didn’t think you could ever look like a kicked puppy.” His brow furrows. “I thought I’d find it amusing, but I really don’t. I hate it, so stop that and listen to me.”
