With the turkey and ham in the oven, Davy turned his attention to the vegetables and sauce. Heavy Christmas meals weren’t de rigueur in New Zealand because Christmas happened during midsummer, but his Irish family erred toward the traditions of the homeland. They loved New Zealand, but that didn’t stop his Mam from missing cold Christmases in Ireland.
As he began to peel parsnips, his playlist ended. He went to his phone, selected a new playlist, and was about to start the music when a strange high-pitched keening noise caught his attention. Frowning, he followed the sound into the hall. It was coming from the room Evelyn had claimed. Perhaps she was playing her own music.
But no, if she’d had her own sound system, she would have used it to drown out his Christmas carols.
Pausing outside the door, he put his ear to the wood and listened. The keening had stopped, but now he heard watery blubbering. Hell, she was crying. Absolutely bawling, if his ears could be believed.
What had he done? She hadn’t seemed upset with him during breakfast, but perhaps she’d taken his unwelcome and unexpected nudity harder than he’d thought. Could it be that he’d frightened her? God, he hoped not.
He chewed on his tongue. Dare he open the door?
If he’d truly upset her, he should make it right. But if this was his fault, wouldn’t he be doing her a favor by staying away?
Suck it up, boyo. Do the right thing.
Maybe it wasn’t anything he’d done. Maybe this was about her mother. He laid a palm against the door, reluctant to bust in on her, but with any other woman, he’d have entered already. He shouldn’t treat Evelyn differently because of their past. So thinking, he pushed the door open and peered around. She sat cross-legged on the bed, clutching a hardback book, a half-drunk glass of wine on the nightstand and a six-pack of donuts beside her. She looked up, and the miserable expression in her puffy red eyes hit him like a knife in the gut. Yeah, she was upset about far more than something stupid he’d done. This was raw grief.
“Go away,” she moaned, shutting her eyes as though she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Leave me be.”
He stepped cautiously into the room, his attention focused entirely on her. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that, Evelyn. Not when you’re hurting like this.”
“I don’t need your pity,” she mumbled, studying her hands.
He felt utterly useless. This was Evelyn. Usually flirtatious, always maddening, never one to dwell on the negatives. He wasn’t equipped to see her this way. He watched her dab her eyes with a fingertip, shoulders hunched. She drew her knees to her chest and hugged them, her gaze flickering to something on the nightstand. Davy crossed to her side, perched on the edge of the bed, and put an arm around her.
She didn’t shrug him off, which was telling in and of itself. From here, he could see the photograph displayed in a scarred wooden frame. It was of Evelyn and her mother. Sympathy twisted a knot in his gut. The women had always been close, and losing her must have been far more difficult than Evelyn ever let on.
“There, there,” he said awkwardly, stroking her silky hair. “Let it out. It will be okay.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered, then screwed up her face as she realized she’d shown weakness, not something she’d ever enjoyed. “You can go. I’m fine.”
Davy didn’t budge. “You’ll have to be more convincing than that.”
She shook her shoulders, dislodging his arm, then took a deep, uneven breath, dried her eyes on the sheet, and bared her teeth in a semblance of a smile. “I’m okay,” she said. “Completely fine.”
Welp, he was convinced. Convinced that she was anything but fine. He took her hand. “Sweetheart, please let me help. I know I’m probably not who you want to be with right now, but unless you want me to call Sophie or Aria, I’m who you’ve got.”
She sniffed. “Don’t call the girls. I just need…” She trailed off. “I don’t know.”
“How about you come and help me prepare lunch,” he suggested, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. “I know it’s not exciting, but it might take your mind off things. Then you can stay and eat with us.”
She groaned and covered her face with her free hand. “I don’t know if I can handle being social right now. Why would you even want me intruding on your family lunch? Won’t they think it’s weird?”
He understood her hesitation. Though they’d dated in high school, she’d never met his parents, despite his wishes to the contrary. Meeting the parents had been “a little too real” for teenage Evelyn.
Yeah, that had stung.
He shrugged. “My family won’t mind a bit. They’d love to have company, and you aren’t just some random person. You’re you.”
She huffed, reclaimed her hand, and hugged her knees again. “Why do you call me that?”
He paused, caught off guard. “Evelyn? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but nobody besides Mum ever used it. To everyone else, I’m just Evie.”
“I like the way ‘Evelyn’ sounds,” he said. “It’s a nice name. And you’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re beautiful and smart and intriguing, but I guess you already know that.”
“Never hurts to hear someone say it,” she replied, a ghost of a grin on her face. “Okay, I’ll join your lunch. I appreciate you inviting me.”
“You’re very welcome.” He stood, offered her a hand, and hauled her to her feet.
“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes glimmering with the remnants of tears. “For being so nice to me. I know it can’t be easy.” Then, to his complete astonishment, she planted a kiss on him. It was over nearly as soon as it began and she ducked around him and scurried away. He touched his lips wonderingly.
If he was sensible, he’d want nothing to do with Evelyn. She was the kind of trouble that could break his heart. But damn, she had the softest lips he’d ever kissed.
Why had she kissed him?
Evie’s mouth tingled where it had touched Davy’s. A mistake. She’d been overcome by gratitude toward him for being so kind, and it had just happened.
On top of that, it seemed she would be joining the O’Connors for lunch. Never mind that she wouldn’t add much to the holiday cheer, he seemed almost eager to have her there. While she hadn’t appreciated his interfering at first, now she was relieved she’d have something to do other than wallow in grief all day.
“Where are you going?” Davy called after her.
She turned. He stood in the hall, looking baffled. And strangely adorable. Not sexy at all, she reminded herself. For his sake, she couldn’t afford to be attracted to him. She didn’t want to risk hurting him again just because she didn’t know what she wanted out of her life anymore.
“We’re making lunch,” she reminded him, padding up the carpeted hall to the kitchen and dining area. Heavy footsteps told her he’d followed.
He tapped her shoulder. “What was that?”
She didn’t turn. “Nothing. Now let’s get cooking. Don’t worry, I won’t mess anything up. I’ve worked in a few cafes and restaurants over the years.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the space. “Where do you want me?”
A pregnant pause came on the heel of her words. She winced. She should have phrased the question differently. Fortunately, he didn’t make the obvious joke.
“Can you finish peeling the parsnips and carrots?” he asked, coming around to stand beside her. “I’ll focus on the sauce.”
“Easy.” She grabbed the discarded peeler and set to work. “Is this what an Irish Christmas lunch looks like?”
“Traditionally, the Irish celebrate with Christmas dinner,” he said in his pleasant lilting accent as he moved to the stovetop to check the sauce. “We changed it to lunch, but otherwise yes, this is more or less what a traditional Christmas meal would include.”
She scanned the kitchen. “Where are the potatoes?”
He grinned. “Believe it or not, we’re not all about the potatoes. Although you can’t deny, they’re a versatile vegetable. They make chips and crisps, you can roast them or bake them, and they’re the key ingredient to vodka. Potatoes are a bloody good time.”
“Okay, Mr. Potato Head.”
“You laugh,” he said, grabbing a spoon from a drawer, “but it’s true. I challenge you to name one other vegetable you can do all those things with.”
Evie thought for a moment, then with a smug grin, replied, “Kumara.”
“Aha! Otherwise known as sweet potato.”
The smile vanished. “Completely different thing.”
“One and the same,” he countered.
“Does anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?”
“Only when they know I’m right.”
She rinsed the parsnips, then turned her attention to the carrots. “How big is your family? Seems like there’s enough here to feed a small army.”
“Not that big. Just big eaters. There will be four and a half people coming over.”
She laughed. “A half?”
Davy laughed with her. “My nephew. He’s only two, so I don’t think he qualifies as a full person yet.”
“That’s Angus’s kid? He’s younger than you, right?”
“He’s twenty-two.”
Young to have a two-year-old, but old enough to be a good parent. She tried to recall his face. He’d been a kid himself last she’d seen him. Gangly and ginger, with a big mouth and a chip on his shoulder, willing to take on anyone who mocked his hair or accent. Hard to imagine him as a father.
She finished with the carrots at the same time Davy took the sauce off the stove and set it aside to cool. She leaned over the pot and sniffed. It smelled good. Sweet, yet tart.
“What next, Chef?”
“Can you whip some cream for the trifle?” he asked. “It’s in the fridge, and there’s vanilla paste and confectioner’s sugar in the pantry.”
She pulled a face. “I should have known you’d be one of those people who pollutes their cream.” Nonetheless, she searched for the ingredients he’d specified. As she reached for the vanilla paste on the top shelf, it struck her that her tears had dried and, however unlikely, she was having a good time.
“Too short, pipsqueak?”
She bounced off the floor and closed her hand around the tube. “I’m Goldilocks,” she said, waving her fist in triumph. “Just right, smart ass.”
He glanced over his shoulder and down at his backside. “Why, thank you for noticing.”
She hid her mouth behind her hand so he couldn’t see her smile. “Oh, the gems keep on coming.” After emptying the ingredients into a bowl, she searched the cupboards until she found an electric beater, and started it up.
Davy, who’d begun chopping a collection of summer fruit, jerked in surprise. “Give a guy some warning.”
She pointed to her ear and mouthed, “I can’t hear you.”
“Sure you can’t.”
She shrugged helplessly.
“Evil Evelyn, that’s what they should call you.” Turning away, he continued dicing fruit. Evie finished whipping the cream and shimmied across the kitchen, bumping him with her hip. She swiped a piece of strawberry, popped it between her lips, and licked the juice from her fingers.
“You sneaky little thief.”
She sashayed away and stored the whipped cream in the fridge. “I feel no shame. Custard next?”
“That’s right.”
They worked in tandem for the next couple of hours, putting lunch together bit by bit, exchanging sarcastic comments as they went. The mood slowly improved, though to be fair, it couldn’t have gotten worse than sobbing alone in her ex’s spare bedroom on Christmas day.
But then someone knocked on the door, and her stomach plummeted like she’d dropped twenty vertical meters.
“Come in,” Davy yelled. “It’s open.”
Evie heard the swish of the door over carpet and a woman’s voice with a thick Irish accent called, “Too busy to greet your Mam, are you, boy?”
“I’m taking care of the holiday meal you’re about to enjoy,” he said.
“Cheeky boy. I didn’t raise you to give me lip.” Mrs. O’Connor came around the corner. She had a rigid bearing with good posture and hair that matched her son’s, topping out no more than an inch above five feet. Freckles dusted her face, making her cheeks look almost tan, and blue eyes beamed like lasers from beneath hooded lids.
“Oh.” She came to a stop, her gaze settling on Evie. “And who might you be?”
Evie immediately rethought her plans to stay for the meal. She didn’t belong here. “I’m just le—”
“Evelyn,” Davy interrupted, when she’d been about to politely excuse herself. “This is my Mam and Paps.” A gray-haired gentleman with bushy brows followed Davy’s mother into the room. Behind him came a lanky redhead and a petite Japanese woman with a toddler clinging to her leg. “I think you know Angus,” he continued.
“From a very long time ago. He probably doesn’t remember me.”
Angus’s eyes widened in surprise, but he shook his head. “I remember you, Evie. You’re kind of hard to forget.” He took the Japanese woman’s hand. She smiled warmly, her dark eyes twinkling and thin lips curving into a smile. “This is my partner, Mariko, and our son Reo.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Evie said, and then the entire O’Connor clan watched her curiously, as if waiting for an explanation for her presence. She gave them one. “My car broke down and the mechanic isn’t open until tomorrow, so I’m stuck here. Davy and I know each other from school. He let me crash in his spare bedroom. I should say, one of his many spare bedrooms. This place is massive.”
Davy’s father glanced between the two of them, taking in the food stains on their clothing, and the tension in the air. He raised an eyebrow. “A pleasure to meet you, Evelyn.” His accent was less pronounced than his wife’s. “Call me Hugh. My wife is Eileen.”
“Merry Christmas, Hugh.” She turned to Davy. “Are you okay to finish lunch?”
He nodded.
Evie smiled at everyone. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go clean myself up.”