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“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “He’s actually back in Ireland visiting family right now.”
“And your mom?” I asked, curious.
“My ma died when I was just a little girl. I never really knew her.”
Bronagh’s face took on a look of longing, mixed with sadness that I understood all too well. I placed my hand on top of hers and said, “I’m sorry, I get how you feel. I lost my parents too.”
She brought eyes, wide with sympathy flashing in their green depths, to mine and asked, “Both of them?”
Now it was my turn to feel sadness creep in.
“Yeah,” I responded, needing to clear my throat to get the lump out. “They died in an accident when I was fourteen. Both died on impact. My oldest brother Brock took us on and has been our father figure ever since.”
Bronagh made sympathetic sounds and turned her hand under mine so that she was holding on.
“It’s crazy … They’ve been gone now for twelve years. I’ve been without them almost as long as I was with them.”
“You were lucky to have had your brother,” she said softly, then asked, “How old is he?”
“He just turned thirty,” I answered, so caught up in thinking about my brother, and how much he’d sacrificed for Brady and me, that I didn’t notice the change in Bronagh’s demeanor right away.
“Wow,” she said softly, and I realized that her hand had stiffened beneath mine, right before she let go. “That’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young.”
“He was barely eighteen at the time, so, you’re right, it was, but Brock’s the most headstrong, hardworking, loyal man I’ve ever met. He never made us feel like having us depend on him was a chore.”
“No, of course not,” she said, lost in thought. “It’s just hard to fathom. I’m thirty-five, and I’ve never had to deal with anything like that; it’s hard for me to imagine. Your brother must be an incredible man.”
“He is,” I replied, then frowned at her. “What’s going on in that mind of yours, Freckles?”
“I don’t think this is going to work,” she said, her eyes a little wild.
“Why?”
“Because … You said it yourself, your father-figure is a thirty-year-old man, and I’m thirty-five, so what would that make me?” My eyes narrowed as she spoke, and I had to clamp down the anger that was threatening to overcome me. “And you’re, what … twenty-six? Still in culinary school and playing in a band on the weekends. We just don’t make sense … We’re in different places in our lives.”
“Are you seeing someone?” I asked, my mind working overtime as I tried to figure out the best way to approach this.
“No,” she answered, then blew out a deep breath. “But that’s not the point.”
A customer called out and waved to her. I watched as she waved back and waited until her attention was back on me.
“Then what is the point?” I asked, my frustration evident. “I think we have a lot in common, and I’ve never felt a pull toward someone the way I do with you. I’d like to explore that and see where it goes. I know you feel it too, can’t you give it a shot?”
“What could we possibly have in common?” she asked, throwing her arms in the air.
The music had changed and gotten louder, so I leaned in, crowding her a bit as I gave her a minute to calm down and bring her focus fully to me. I could see I had her attention when her pupils dilated and her breathing grew heavy.
I ran one finger down her forearm, thrilling when her pulse jumped beneath my touch.
“We have this,” I said, leaning down to nuzzle her slightly. Her breath caught and I leaned back, pushing her hair back behind her ear as I looked her square in the eyes. “Chemistry. Heat. A natural reaction to each other that’s hard to come by … But that’s not all, it’s just the foundation.” I knew I only had one shot to convince her, so I laid it all out. “We both love food. Regardless of what stage of our careers we’re in, we share a passion for cooking, for creating … We both love great music,” I added with a smile, pleased when her lips turned up, then I grew more serious. “We both know what it’s like to lose parents. To grow up feeling like something’s missing, and being envious of people who had both parents at their birthdays, graduations, and holidays.”
Bronagh’s eyes filled. Unable to help myself, I touched my lips softly to hers, wanting to offer us both comfort.
When I pulled back I added, “And that’s just what I know after being with you for a handful of hours over a couple days … Give me a shot. Give us a shot. Age doesn’t matter, don’t let it stand in our way.”
“But my job,” she argued.
“When we’re at school we’ll keep things strictly professional. No one will know that we’re seeing each other,” I promised. “But, if you’re that concerned about it, and you want me to leave you alone, I will. I’ll walk out of here and when I see you in the kitchen, you’ll be just another instructor. I don’t want to ruin things for you, or make things difficult, I just want to see what we have here,” I trailed my fingers across her neck. “Because I’ve never felt anything like it.”
