Page 54

“Cordelia Marie, who is Nia—”

Cordelia pressed end and the phone went dark. Róisín cackled.

“They’re a fine bunch, aren’t they? Come on, shake your stumps. It’s a gorgeous day for a photo shoot.”

Cordelia bet the idea of her mother visiting was right off the table, thanks to Róisín. She grinned as she grabbed her raincoat and camera and left the cottage.

“How’s it going in there?”

It was the fifth time his father had posed that question from the other side of the kitchen door.

“It’s fine, Da,” Niall called back, the same response he’d given each time.

“Owen, leave the boy alone,” Róisín shouted from the living room. Niall bent to take the carrots out of the oven—he tossed them and put them back in for ten more minutes.

“It smells amazing, doesn’t it?” he heard Alison say. There was a light tap on the door. Niall stormed over to tell his father off once and for all, but instead came face to face with Cordelia.

“Can I hide out in here?” she whispered. “Your dad keeps pacing up and down the hall, then glaring at me.”

“Oh god, sorry about that,” Niall said, ushering her inside.

“It’s fine, I mean, I get it,” Cordelia said. “Last time I came for dinner I basically told him he was a shitty father. Oooh, it really does smell amazing.”

Niall looked around at the mess—he usually kept a cleaner kitchen but he was too nervous to worry about that today. He lifted the top off the pot of colcannon and made sure it was still nice and warm on the back burner.

But he could feel Cordelia’s presence even when his back was turned, like she was a sun pulling him into orbit. It was massively distracting.

“D’you mind juicing that lemon for me?” Niall asked her.

She raised an eyebrow. “You trust me?”

He chuckled. “You just cut it in half and squeeze it through that strainer there.”

Niall set the lamb chops to sear in the cast iron pan and turned to see Cordelia squeezing the lemon with intense concentration, her lips pouting slightly, the crease between her eyebrows more of a dent. How could squeezing a goddamn lemon cause such a visceral reaction in him? He wanted to smooth the dent away with his fingertip. He wanted to see if her lips were as soft as they looked.

He needed to stop looking at her so much.

Cordelia finished with the lemon and held up the juice like she’d won first place in the currach races. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, the freckles dancing on her left cheek as she smiled. Niall felt something molten and shivery slip into his stomach.

Whatever his expression was, it made her face change. Her eyes went wide and her breath hitched. Niall quickly grabbed the lemon juice and turned to make the sauce. He focused very hard on adding Dijon mustard, honey, and olive oil to the lemon juice.

“Whisk that for me, will ya?” he asked, handing the bowl to her without looking.

She took it, their fingers brushing together, and Niall felt shivers run across his skin. He kept his eyes focused on the lamb. When the chops were well seared, he turned them over to cook on the other side.

“Right,” he said, wiping his hands on a towel. “That’s done, then.”

The problem was, now there was no place else for him to look but at her. She was watching him with a clear, open expression, her lips slightly parted, the whisk moving around in slow circles. He should probably tell her that wasn’t how you whisked a sauce. But words had deserted him completely.

Niall felt a line of energy connecting them, as delicate as a spider’s web but crackling with heat. Or maybe that was just the stove. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He couldn’t stop looking into her eyes. He wanted to see her thoughts. He wanted to feel her hand in his again, like he had on the cliffs at the Black Fort.

She took half a step toward him.

The door burst open and Róisín strode in. Cordelia jumped so hard she spilled some sauce on her shirt.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Róisín said. “If you’re to be making something that smells as good as this, Niall, you need to be making it faster. Oh, Cordie, look you’ve gone and spilled sauce on your jumper. Fiona! Cordelia’s spilled sauce, go fetch her another jumper. We can wash this one.”

Niall’s head was spinning. He hardly had a second to think before Cordelia was whisked out of the kitchen. But Róisín stopped at the door and winked.