”How was I supposed to stay asleep after the racket you made? Besides, what are you making? Because something is definitely burning.”

“Nothing.” Brendan wore a self-conscious expression, not unlike a thief. In fact, he quickly put the blame on Mrs. Engel. “It was Mrs. Engel! She forgot to turn off the stove before she left, and I smelled it burn. It’s basically coal now.”

Deirdre was skeptical. Mrs. Engel would never do something so careless. “Oh, really? Or were you trying to play chef again?”

Brendan knew his lie was coming apart in real-time, so he just told the truth. “Fine. I asked my mom for the recipe for the chicken soup she made for you yesterday because you seem to like it. I thought maybe I should make one for you every day. But… I didn’t expect cooking to be so hard.”

Deirdre was stunned. Amusement crept into her face. “Why are you so obsessed with something you’re not cut out to do?”

Brendan looked down, his eyes transfixed on her slightly plump lips. “It’s not an obs