“Oh, he’s right, Miss McKinnon! I just remembered that I have a lot of work cut out for me. I guess I can only try your cooking some other time.”

With that, Sam left. Brendan turned to Deirdre’s deadpanned stare and said placidly, “He knows he’s too busy to quietly and slowly enjoy these simple things in life. I’ll have to do.”

Of course, Deirdre knew Brendan had threatened Sam into leaving. “It’s a big pot of soup, for crying out loud. Can you finish it by yourself?”

“I can,” Brendan replied under his breath. “If you’re the one who made it, then I’ll drink it all.”

Deirdre thought Brendan was exaggerating, but it turned out he made do with his promise, after all. It even shocked Mrs. Engel by the time she returned to the mansion. Brendan was not known for his appetite, which had only grown smaller after his injuries.

Deirdre drank about half of her own portion and believed that there was nothing especially delicious about her soup, anyway.

Brendan pulled her into his arms when