Page 40 of Beneath the Quiet

And now, here I am, about to have dinner with the woman I can’t stop thinking about, and I’ll probably end up hard with no relief in sight for the next couple of hours.

Fool. Bloody, bloody fool.

Chapter Twelve

Maeve

Not wanting to give my brain time to think, I stretch the hairband always on my wrist and pull my hair back and up into a messy bun before I walk to the kitchen sink to wash my hands. I glance around the almost-finished kitchen, liking what I see. The countertop is a big piece of wood carved out in one piece, and the white ceramic sink is gorgeous as well as practical with its two basins. I do my best to ignore Aidan as he walks past me, but I barely manage it. He’s just too much everywhere all at once, and I can’t fully relax. I glance at his broad back as he leaves my side and walks over to his parents, chatting softly next to a brick wall with a curved opening. He places a hand on each of their shoulders.

“A word, please.” He gestures to the room with his chin. I move up on my toes to see it better, but it’s filled with so many tools and wooden planks that the real purpose of it is hidden from me.

The three of them move under the curved archway and leave the kitchen together.

I release a shaky sigh. Now, I can relax.

I turn off the tap and shake my hands a little to get rid of the excess water. Katie steps up to me and hands me a dishtowel.

“Thank you.” I smile at her and dry my hands. “What do you need me to do?”

“We’re almost done, but I’d like your help with seasoning the ground beef before we start up with the lasagna sheets.” She shrugs. “And then you can do that if you want to.”

I smile down at her. “Sounds good. Where do you keep your seasoning powder?”

“Erm, that’s not really what we use in this house.”

“It isn’t?”

She shakes her head and then looks pointedly at all the herbs lined up in the white pots in the windowsill behind the sink that I saw the last time I was here. Only now, there are at least six of them. Understanding dawns on me.

“Oooh. Of course.”

He’s a farmer. Naturally, he also has a herb garden.

Tongue in cheek, Katie moves to one of the shelves. She grabs a pair of scissors and then turns to fetch a stool. She sets it in front of the sink, steps up, and reaches for one of the pots. She points at it and quirks an eyebrow, making me twitch my lips in amusement.

“I know that one.” I grin. “Basil. We definitely want that in the sauce.”

“Agreed.” She grabs a bunch and snips it off before placing it on the counter. “Can you get the mortar from the cabinet on top of the oven, please? We’ll mix the herbs in it, and once they’re ground together, we’ll add them to the sauce.”

“Okay.”

I turn around, my eyes scanning everywhere to find the kitchen utensil I’ve only ever heard of but never used before, but she doesn’t need to know that. I shorten the distance and reach up, pushing on the cupboard door, and it flips open. Immediately, a simmering heat pools in my belly as I think back on the last time I was here. When Aidan caged me in, so close that our bodies came close to brushing. If I were the flirting kind, I wouldn’t have held back from doing just that. How I sometimes wish I were different.

But then again, maybe Aidan wouldn’t have welcomed my feeble attempt at flirting, and then it would have ended up super awkward between us.

Besides, I’m not in the market for another boyfriend. The last one I had did enough damage to last me a lifetime. As it does each time I think about Colin, the memory of catching him having sex with his secretary flickers before me. The betrayal still hurts, but it’s the act more than anything else. Not him.

Perhaps it means I’m finally over him.

I shake off the melancholic thoughts and lift down the white marble mortar carefully. The heavy weight in my hands surprises me, but the flash of a memory of Nellie handing me a similar one, a soft smile playing on her lips, sends me rooted to the spot. My lips tip up at the corners from remembering something I’ve kept buried deep for so long. It puzzles me more that I forgot it in the first place, because why wouldn’t I hold on to the fond memories I share with my foster parents?

This is not the time to examine it further, and I push the thought away for later.

I have to get through dinner with the man who starts in all my recent fantasies, his daughter, and his parents.

Good Lord, send help, please.

“Seamus, you’re shameless!”