Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(92)

“She’s more of the bake it till it’s string school of Irish cuisine,” he said.

Jess smiled. “I’m gonna tell her you said that. Wash your hands, Davey.”

“First rule of the kitchen,” Davey said, going right to the sink.

She gave him a look. Usually, it was a struggle to get her brother to wash any body part.

Connor had been over a couple of times in the past few weeks, but this was the first time they were eating together, all three of them. She put dinner on the table—such a weird thing, doing this for a guy, though Connor had fed her more times than she could count. Davey lowered his head to his plate as if fearful that someone would steal it, and shoveled in the food in his typical way.

“You’re gonna want to chew, Dave,” Connor said, and she bristled the tiniest bit. Did he think she didn’t know Davey ate like a starved Tasmanian devil?

But he had a point. And, shockingly, Davey listened immediately. “It’s good,” her brother said, smiling at her with a full mouth.

“Thanks, baby.”

“It’s excellent,” Connor said, smiling.

This is what normal people do.

It didn’t feel normal. It felt extraordinary and a little nerve-racking, as if at any minute, she was about to screw up.

But nothing bad happened.

After supper, she asked Davey to take the dogs in the backyard to play. “I have to help Connor with some computer stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, scooping up the dog and holding her over his head. “Come with me, Super Fluffy!”

“Hold her against your chest,” Jess called, then got up to make sure he was.

“Okay,” she said, getting her computer. “So I added a few things—”

“Come here,” he said, pulling her down on his lap. He put the computer on the table and ran his hands up her arms. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“You sure?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. It’s just... I’ve never had anyone over for dinner before. Like this. Like...”

“A family?”

She hesitated, then gave a half shrug, half nod.

“How do you think it went?” he asked.

She looked at him for a minute, into those beautiful eyes. “It went well,” she acknowledged.

His mouth tugged up on one side. Irresistible, that’s what he was. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled a little herself, and he kissed her, then, a long, deep kiss that homed in on her insides, making her feel soft and weak and burning with energy at the same time. Then he stopped, touching her bottom lip with one finger.

“And next week, my mom will be getting married, and you and Davey and I will be together again. With Colleen and the rest of my family. Will that be okay?”

She hesitated. The mental picture was a little like dinner with the Holland family...lovely, but a little on the terrifying side, too. “That will be okay.”

“Maybe something you could get used to.”

Her heart seemed to swell. “We should do the, um, the thing. On the computer.”

He smiled. “Okay, boss, show me what you got.”

She got off his lap and sat in the chair next to him, opened her laptop. “I wrote up some talking points for you.”

“I thought we agreed I’d just sit there and look hot.”

She laughed. “No. The thing is, the investors aren’t investing in your company. They’re investing in you.”

“Great. A grumpy chef who doesn’t really like people all that much.”

“You’re not really fooling anyone, Connor,” she said. “You’re not that grumpy. You think you’re a big tough guy, but you’re a big softie. Everyone knows it, too.”

“No, they don’t. I’m incredibly tough and very intimidating.”

“Heard you cried when you saw your niece.”

“I’m gonna muzzle that Colleen one of these days, new mother or not.” He gave her a long look. “You ever think about having kids?”

The question was like an icicle through her chest. See, this was why she didn’t want a relationship. These kind of heartbreaking talks. “No,” she said.

“Why is that? Because of Dave?”

“Why do you call him that? Everyone calls him Davey.”

“Davey’s a boy’s name. He’s twenty-six.”

“He’s a boy. He always will be.”

“Why don’t you want kids?” he asked.

She folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t think I’d be a very good mother.”

“Are you kidding? You’re incredible with your brother. And I’ve seen you with Noah Cooper. You get that dazed, happy look—”

“I like kids. I just don’t want them.”

“Why?”

Fine. He wanted to have this talk now, fine. “Because then I’d have to tell them what I did. How I am. Was. Whatever.” They won’t want to have friends visit. They’ll dread every time there’s a parent thing at school. The other parents will talk about me, and their kids will make fun of mine, and my kids will get into fights to defend me, and then resent me for it. “They’d...be embarrassed.” Ashamed. “I don’t want to do that to a kid.”