Page 53 of Her Irish Boss

“I didn't realize a messy room would actually keep you from sleeping in my bed.”

“Not much of anything would keep me from doing that with an open invitation.” He flipped the light off. “Now, which side do you sleep on?”

13

Bacon.

The first thing he smelled when he opened his eyes. The second, a sweet wildflower scent that lingered in Selena's bedsheets. He rubbed a hand over his face. Had he overslept?

It was 5:00 a.m.

Her side of the bed was empty, and it disappointed him. He'd held her most of the night, not pushing anything between them physically. He'd never want that memory to come on the heels of what'd happened at the bar.

He grabbed his shirt, tugging it down and padding down the hallway to seek out the source of both delicious scents.

She stood at the stove, barefoot, muttering to the food like she needed to help it cook.

“Good morning,” he said, hoping not to scare her.

She barely glanced his direction. “Oh. Good. You're up. Can you grab the plates out of that cabinet?”

He opened the cabinet she'd indicated. The kitchen was small. Smaller than the one his Ma had back home.

“How many?”

“Three.” She started flipping off burners. “And it's ready. I was going to try and keep your plate warm.”

“Selena,” he nuzzled her neck from behind, finding the wildflowers again. “You didn't need to cook me breakfast.”

She swatted at him. “I probably wouldn't have if Mimi didn't wake up twenty minutes ago, asking for food.”

He straightened. “Where is she now?”

“I set her up in her room watching television. She can watch infomercials all day. At least until the soap operas come on.” She pursed her lips together. “Can I leave you to plate these and I’ll go grab her?”

“Sure.”

Selena wiped her hands on a towel as she scurried out of the room. He stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment. The kitchen. Cooking. Selena rushing to make sure her granny got food. Surreal.

“Here she is,” Selena announced.

Brogan hustled to plate the food. Rashers of bacon, eggs, and toast. He set a plate on the table, watching her granny the same way she watched him.

Uncertainty.

Did she know he'd stayed over in her granddaughter's bed? He'd been run out of a house or two in the mornings back home while still a teenager. Those memories didn't leave.

“I'm Estella Chapman.” She held out her hand.

“Brogan O'Keeley. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He held her thin hand lightly, aware of every bone. The only resemblance between Estella and Selena were their eyes.

Selena helped her to sit. “I'm glad to have some male company for a change. I keep asking Selena to find out if George Clooney kept any of his medical scrubs from histime on TV and might want to take over the nursing duties, but she won't.”

Brogan grinned. “I'm no George Clooney, but I'm glad to have your company as well.”

“What do you do, Brogan?”

Brogan paused before setting his plate down and sitting across from Estella.

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