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“Slainte.”
He nodded in response.
“You’re a good student,” he said.
“And you’re not a bad teacher.”
I sipped my wine which was delicious, of course. Once the first little sip was down the hatch, I turned my attention to the salad, spearing a bit of it with my fork. The greens were a melody of lettuce and colorful veggies, and when I popped it into my mouth and crunched, the freshness of the flavors was almost overwhelming.
“This… wow. I’m trying to remember a salad that tasted this good andfresh.”
Connor dabbed his mouth after taking a bite. “Before we go any further, I have to make a confession.”
My heart skipped a beat after he said the words. “A confession?”
What was he going to tell me? That he wasn’t a one-woman man, that there was no room in his life for romance with his obligations? That he was making this evening so special because it was the last time we were going to see each other?
“Yes. The truth is… I didn’t put all of this together on my own. I had a little help with dinner tonight. Well, more than a little help.”
Relief washed over me, and I allowed myself an easy smile. “Well, this place is big enough that you could have an entire kitchen staff stored away somewhere and I wouldn’t be able to notice.”
“Not quite like that. My ma helped me a great deal with everything.”
“Your ma?” It was strange to hear Connor talk about his mother. A man like him, so one-of-a-kind, you almost expect that he came out of nowhere fully grown.
“That’s right.”
“Oh, so she cooked all of this?”
“Not quite. I cooked it all, but she helped. These vegetables are from her garden, and the recipe that we’re going to be enjoying tonight is a personal one of hers. One of her best-kept ones, actually.”
I took another bite of my salad. “So… this is pretty secret stuff, huh?” I grinned, feeling like I was being let in on something special.
“Very secret.”
My eyes flicked to the Dutch oven in the center of the table.
“In that case, you can no longer keep me in suspense.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough.” After having another bite of his salad, Connor enjoyed a quick sip of wine before getting up from the table and making his way over to the Dutch oven. He lifted the top, revealing a hearty-looking stew, the color a rich, deep brown.
“This is a traditional Irish stew,” he said. “Well, mostly traditional… my ma’s made more than a few tweaks over the years to really call it her own.”
I closed my eyes, letting the scent drift over to me. As I sat enjoying the bouquet of smells, the rain that had been on the verge of arriving broke out.
“This is fitting,” he said. “Irish stew is the perfect meal for a night like this.”
I popped the last bit of salad into my mouth, chewed, then grinned.
“Now,” he said, placing the nearby ladle into the stew. “Ready for a taste?”
“You have no idea.”
Chapter 28
Connor
The evening had gone wonderfully, more so than I’d been anticipating, even. Over big bowls of Irish stew and thick slices of soda bread, not to mention a bottle of wine, Claire and I chatted the night away, the endless rain pattering on the windows.
