“I moved out for a while, but I butted heads with my roommate. Moving home was easy. Plus, I like it. You know, having people around. There’s always someone to talk to or do something with.”
While she knew the feeling of always having someone around, she couldn’t say she liked it. One of the things she enjoyed most about living with Aunt Eileen was having her own space, without people always sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong.
“I’ve often dreamed of moving out. But it seems pointless. Our flat is above the pub, and since I work at the pub, getting to and from is easy.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“I’m not. I hate working at the pub.” The honesty felt so good. She rarely admitted how she felt about the pub—at least to other people. She was always afraid word would get back to her parents and she’d never hear the end of it.
“So why do it?”
“It’s expected. My family opened the pub as a means to provide for us and they have. They’ve been quite successful. We all grew up working there.”
“So?”
She dropped the damp towel on the counter and stared out the window above the sink. “Don’t you ever feel the weight of expectations from your family?”
“Yeah. My dad expected me to play hockey so I did. Still do.”
“Why do you?”
“I think I learned to love it. I played so much when I was younger, trying to get my dad’s approval and acknowledgment, that somewhere along the way I started to enjoy it for me.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever love working at the pub. I’m used to it for sure. But looking forward to going there every day? Not likely.”
“What would your parents say if you told them you didn’t want to work there?”
She turned to him as he rinsed the last spoon. “They’d laugh it off and say I was being silly. Of course I’d want the pub. It’s their legacy. They built it for us and generations to come.”
“So you’ve had this conversation before.”
Not in years, but her parents held the same ideas they always had. It was pointless to rehash old rubbish.
She realized that she’d just dumped a pile of family baggage onto Tommy, which was not how this day was supposed to go. Baking cupcakes was supposed to clear her head. She smiled. “See? I’m not very good company.”
He dried his hands on the towel she held, then brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I still think you’re excellent company. If you can’t talk to a friend, who can you talk to?”
“You keep calling yourself my friend, but that’s not what you’re going for.”
He smiled and his eyes damn near twinkled. “Until you give me permission to kiss you again, I’ll settle for friends.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, and then double-timed with the memory of their last kiss. She wanted him to do it again. She almost leaned forward, but the timer for the cupcakes rang. She swallowed, blinked, and stepped out of his reach.
But she knew she was actually putting him out of her reach. He hadn’t made a move to kiss her. Not that he didn’t keep putting the notion in her head.
Was a romantic time with Tommy O’Malley worth risking her relationship with Rory? She bent and pulled the pans from the oven. Even though Rory had told her to go out with Tommy, she couldn’t imagine what that might do to their relationship.
“Lunch while these cool?” he asked as soon as she closed the oven door.
“Lunch. As friends.”
“Of course.”
His smile was still a bit wicked, but Deirdre couldn’t help but return it. In doing so, she realized she was in a heap of trouble.
* * *
More than two hours later, Tommy walked her back up the steps to the house. Lunch had been more fun than expected. Of course, some of that could be attributed to being punchy from lack of sleep. But over burgers and milk shakes, Tommy had made her laugh with stories of being a tattoo artist and tales of his siblings.
While the laughter had kept her relaxed, it was the fact that he’d not only asked constant questions of her, but also listened to her answers, that had made her defenses weaken. By the time she had her keys in hand, she knew she wanted a date with him.
“Is your aunt home?”
“Not sure.” She peered over his shoulder to look for Aunt Eileen’s car. “Why?”
“She scares me a little.”
Deirdre laughed. “My mother has the same effect on boys. It’s like they attended a mothering school that required a course in instilling fear in young men.”
“How did your boyfriend move past it?”
Deirdre unlocked the door and pushed it open. As she took off her jacket, she said, “He didn’t have to. His parents and mine are close friends. He grew up at the pub same as me.”
“Damn. That doesn’t help me at all.”
With her jacket on the hook near the closet, she locked the door behind them. “What do you need help with?”
“Making your aunt like me. Don’t get me wrong, I can charm some parents, but Mrs. O’Leary seems to be able to withstand the O’Malley charm.”
Deirdre crossed her arms. “And when exactly did you try to charm Aunt Eileen?”
“Not me. Jimmy. He says that until he proposed, Mrs. O’Leary gave him the cold shoulder. And, according to Moira, she liked Jimmy more than the rest of us.”
Deirdre laughed. “She did warn me to stay away from the O’Malley boys, no matter how charming they are.”
“Looks like I have my work cut out for me.”
“Thank you for lunch. I had a lovely time.”
“What about the cupcakes?”
“What about them?”
“You’re supposed to teach me to decorate.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to decorate.”
“I do.”
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” She turned toward the kitchen, not a bit sad to spend more time with him. “Let’s get started then.”
Once more, Deirdre went through the kitchen and gathered ingredients, this time setting them by the stand mixer that she doubted Aunt Eileen ever used. Tommy said nothing, just continued to watch her intently. She tried to ignore the staring and the niggling worry about whether he’d ask her out again.
She didn’t know how to tell him that, over the course of the afternoon, she’d changed her mind about a date. It made her seem quite fickle, which went against how she saw herself.
With the butter and shortening in the mixer, she flipped the switch to blend them as she grabbed a couple of lemons out of the fridge.
Tommy pointed to the bowl. “What is that?”
“That will be the buttercream frosting.”
“Looks gross.”
“But it’ll taste delicious.”
“I thought buttercream was all butter.”
“I use the shortening to make crusting buttercream. It’s a firmer frosting for decorating.”
“In our house, unless it’s from the bakery, frosting comes from a can and half gets eaten by spoon before making it onto a cake and the other half gets slapped on. There’s no real decorating to it.”
“That’s the way of most people. Making it from scratch isn’t difficult, but if you have no desire to decorate, there’s no point.” She stopped the mixer and added some sugar and lemon juice. While that mixed, she readied a piping bag. “I only have one bag, so you’ll have to watch.”
He gave her that wicked smile again. “I like to watch.”
She didn’t even know what he meant by that, but the way he spoke caused a warm rush through her body.
“Is there something specific you’d like to learn about decorating?”
“What’s your favorite thing to do?”
She didn’t even have to think. “Roses.”
“Why?”
“They’re the first thing I learned to do well. Probably because my middle name is Rose, so I wanted to learn it as kind of a signature thi
ng. In addition, creating the roses is soothing. My mind can go to its own place while my hands work.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“What are you on about?”
“When you talk like that. About something that’s important to you, Deirdre Rose. It’s not the matter-of-fact way you usually talk. You change.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a drink at lunch.”
“Fine. Don’t believe me. Let’s get to the lesson.”
“Oh, I believe Aunt Eileen was right after all. You O’Malley boys are quite the charmers.”
“If you’re good, you’re good.”
She filled the pastry bag and grabbed a cupcake. Then she started to pipe the rose. When it was done, she handed it to Tommy.
“It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
“Nonsense. It’s meant to be enjoyed, not looked at.” She leaned forward and licked the top of the frosting off.
Chapter Five
Holy fuck. Tommy couldn’t believe Deirdre had just done that. The beautiful rose that had been covering the cupcake was now smashed. Her tongue swept across and disappeared back into her mouth. Then she turned back to her cupcakes and frosting.
The thing was, he knew she wasn’t trying to be a tease. But his dick didn’t understand that. His jeans tightened and he shifted to find comfort. After seeing her lick the frosting, he wanted a taste for himself, so he peeled back the paper and bit through the frosting and cake. Just like the batter he’d sampled, the cupcake was tart and sweet. His mouth watered for more. He wasn’t even hungry, but he devoured the cupcake in two more bites.
By the time he pushed away from the counter, she had two more cupcakes finished. She worked quickly, seemingly without thought. Her hands were deft, twirling the cake in one hand while the bag moved swiftly to build the rose. He studied how she made the shape. “Overlapping arches?” he asked. “That’s it?”
His voice must’ve startled her because she twitched, causing a spurt of frosting to ooze from the bag.
“I’m sorry?” she asked as she wiped the tip of the bag on a paper towel.
He smiled. “If you’re going to teach me how to make a rose, you have to tell me what you’re doing. Watching you, it looks like all you’re doing is making overlapping arches.”
She tilted her head as he spoke. “Yes, that’s about it. Simple, like I said.” Holding out a bare cupcake and the frosting bag, she asked, with a hint of challenge in her eye, “You want to try?”
He took both. Challenge accepted. He brought the cupcake close and tried to position the bag the way she had.
“Put the tip flat against the cake to start.”
He squeezed the bag and a blob of frosting landed on the cake.
Deirdre reached out and touched his hand. “Not so hard.” Then she used a knife to scrape off the mess he made. “Start in the center and keep it close at first. As you move to the outside, you’ll open it more.”
Again, he squeezed the bag, and this time, it was like a fart of frosting. How did she make this look so easy?
She scraped his mess again. “You need to grip the bag tight enough to avoid air bubbles. Then move in quick, gentle strokes.”
Moving closer, she put her hand over his and awkwardly tried to guide him. She hadn’t even gotten frosting on the cake before she realized the position wasn’t working. Tommy smiled because, for once, incompetence worked in his favor.
He spread his arms wide and said, “Show me.”
The puzzled look on her face told him she had no idea what he meant. He moved to stand behind her and circled her with his arms. He lowered the cake in front of her and held the bag for her to wrap her hand over his.
She sighed and he couldn’t tell if she was annoyed, but she took the hint and put her hand over his to guide him. “Small and gentle.”
He turned the cupcake and bobbled it a bit. She laughed.
“Slow down. Your first time shouldn’t be fast. You need to get the feel for it.”
She spoke quietly as she guided his hands. Her soft touch made his mind wander to things that could be slow. He enjoyed getting the feel of her body.
Oblivious to his thoughts, she added, “Once you get the hang of it, it’ll go faster.”
“Not always,” he said before he caught himself. He would definitely take his time with her.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you got it now?”
She released his hands and parted them to make way for her to step out of the circle of his arms. He concentrated on the cake and the frosting and moved slowly, turning the cupcake as he went. A few minutes later, he had something that at least resembled a flower.
“Nicely done.”
“Nowhere near as good as yours.” He set his sad cupcake beside her completed ones. On its own, it had looked much better.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “You should’ve seen my first attempt. No one would mistake yours for a hill. Mine was a mound of buttercream with little shape. This is quite good.”
He couldn’t deny that the praise from her felt good. He picked up another cupcake, determined to do better. “Where did you learn to do this? Did you go to culinary school?”
She huffed. “No. I watched a lot of cooking shows and videos online.”
He paused in making his rose. “You’re self-taught?”
She nodded and started setting cupcakes on a plate.
“Wow. We’re more alike than I thought.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t go to art school. Everything I learned about art is self-taught. Or on-the-job training.”
The front door closed, and moments later, Mrs. O’Leary stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “What’s all this?”
“I’m trying a new recipe,” Deirdre answered.
“It’s quite a mess.”
“I’ll clean it up, Aunt Eileen. I always do.”
But Mrs. O’Leary wasn’t paying attention to Deirdre. She was staring at Tommy. He put his cupcake down and extended a hand. “Hi, Mrs. O’Leary. I’m—”
“I’m aware of who you are. I changed your diapers when you were a baby, Thomas.”
Whoa. No one used his full name. Not ever.
“What are you doing in my kitchen?”
Cold didn’t begin to describe the attitude. Jimmy had underestimated her dislike of them. “I came by to have lunch with Deirdre, and she’s teaching me to decorate cupcakes.”
Mrs. O’Leary’s gaze traveled from his eyes, down his arm of tattoos to the cupcakes on the table. He held out his completed cupcake. “They’re delicious.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’ll have one with tea.” Then she turned to leave the room. “Be sure to clean the mess, Deirdre.”
“I will.”
Once Mrs. O’Leary was gone, Deirdre broke out in giggles. Tommy stared at her. What the hell was so funny? “A little help there would’ve been nice.”
“You did fine on your own.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. Why does she hate us?”
“It’s not hate. It’s more distrust, I think. And I’m not completely sure why. From what I gather, you’re all charming boys, but spent a good portion of your youth as hoodlums. She’s often mumbling something about your father.” She picked up the frosting bag and continued to cover cupcakes. “Now that she mentioned changing your diapers, though, makes me wonder. Is she friends with your mother?”
“My mother is dead.” The words sounded harsh even to his own ears, and he’d known they were coming.
Deirdre froze mid-rose. “I’m so sorry.”
“She was killed when I was really little. I don’t have too many memories of her. But I think she and Mrs. O’Leary were friends. Jimmy and Liam grew up as best friends.”
She worked in silence then and Tommy just watched. If he had the right, he’d wrap his arms around her again and kiss her neck while she worked just to see if he could distract her. But he didn�
��t have that right, so he shoved his hands back in his pockets.
When the last cupcake was done, she looked up at him. “It’s almost time for tea, so I better get this cleaned up.”
“Is that the not-so-subtle hint that it’s time for me to leave?”
“I thought it was subtle.” She looked over the table. “Let me give you some of these to take home.”
“That would be great. Thanks. I’ll have to hide them from my dad though. He has diabetes and doesn’t do a great job of watching what he eats.”
She put cupcakes into a plastic container and snapped on a lid. Handing it to him, she said, “I could try to find a low-fat, no-sugar recipe that would be good for him.”
Tommy chuckled. “Nah. Jimmy tried getting him to eat like that. He says it all tastes like cardboard.”
Deirdre waved a hand at him. “Of course it does if it comes from a package. This would be homemade. The appearance alone will fool him.”
“I don’t know if anything would fool my dad.”
One eyebrow arched. “Challenge accepted. What flavor?”
“What?”
“What does your dad like?”
“He’s not picky.” Tommy didn’t try to dissuade her because if she took on the challenge of feeding his dad, he was guaranteed to see her again.
“Thank you for the cupcakes.”
“Thank you for lunch.”
They stood awkwardly for a minute, and Tommy felt like an inept teenager again. He knew this was the point he would normally kiss a girl and say good-bye. He desperately wanted the first, but couldn’t have it and didn’t like the second.
He touched her hand and leaned in. He kissed her temple gently. “Hope that doesn’t break the rules. I had a really good time today.”
“So did I.”
Before moving away, he asked, “When can I take you out again?”
“I don’t know.”
“How about Sunday?”
“I’m working.”
“Bakery closes early on Sundays.”
“Okay.”
Tommy jolted back. He hadn’t expected her to agree so easily. “Really?”
“Was that a test of some sort?”
“No. I just . . . I thought you’d say no.” He stared into her light blue eyes, which were filled with uncertainty. He forged ahead. “Awesome. Think about what you want to do. Give me a call when you get home.”
Through Your Eyes Page 6