The intensity in his deep brown eyes was unsettling. He looked like a man dying of thirst who was standing before an oasis. His expression was an odd mixture of disbelief, joy and longing, and she suddenly felt as if he were speaking volumes to her, though he said nothing. Cora took a tiny step back, shocked to realize how eager he was to be there. Clearly, he’d anticipated this meeting far more than she had. He must really need a place to stay.
“Liam, this is Cora,” Hugh said with forced cheer. “Cora, meet Liam O’Connor.”
She waited.
Liam stepped forward and began to raise his hands, almost as if he were going to reach for her, then thought better of it. “Hello, Cora. I’m pleased to...meet you.” Something flashed across his face. Frustration? She had no idea. This guy was handsome, yes, but something felt off. Suzette would probably love him. She had a thing for the weird ones.
“Hi,” Cora said, holding out her hand. She wasn’t thrilled that her father brought him to breakfast, but she could rally. She’d just have to find a good way to make it clear she had no intention of taking him on as a roommate. Unfortunately, he seemed even more eager than her dad.
Liam stared at her outstretched hand, then his mouth curved up at the corners. When he closed his large, calloused hand around hers, Cora felt a sudden whoosh of vertigo.
She stumbled back a step, then straightened. Damn the uneven sidewalk. “Should we go inside?”
Liam was scowling down at his palm in confusion, muttering something under his breath.
She spun and hurried toward the house, trying to shake off her ridiculous reaction. She was slightly hungover from the night before. That would explain the momentary dizziness. All she needed was breakfast and everything would be fine. She glanced over her shoulder at the dark highwayman. Totally fine.
They followed her inside the old tract house. Like the rest of the homes in her neighborhood, it was built in the late ’70s with the dark wood paneling and harvest gold kitchen counters. She’d tried to spruce the walls up by painting them a soft, sky blue, and adding colorful art prints, but Cora had no love for the place. It was just a rental, and she had her sights set on something far better.
“This is a lovely home,” Liam said as he stood in the middle of the tiny living room. He turned in a circle, and if Cora didn’t know any better, she’d say he looked completely charmed. Huh. Either he was a fantastic actor, or he was into La-Z-Boy furniture rejects and glittery popcorn ceilings.
Her dad began telling Liam about the neighborhood, the easy access to the highway and how Cora’s roommate moved away a few months ago. He glanced at Cora a few times to try to rope her into the conversation, but she pretended not to notice. She knew exactly what her dad was doing, and it was almost laughable, at this point. Didn’t he know her by now? The harder he pushed, the harder she’d push back. She was Hugh McLeod’s daughter, after all, so she knew all about stubbornness and standing her ground. She’d learned from the best.
“I hope you guys are up for waffles,” Cora said, walking into the kitchen. She pulled the pan from the oven where she’d kept them warming. “I made enough to feed an army.” She placed the pan in the middle of her kitchen table, along with maple syrup and a pitcher of orange juice.
Liam was staring at the pile of waffles with an odd expression on his face.
“What?” Cora took a seat at the head of the table as they joined her. “You don’t like waffles? There are Pop-Tarts in the cupboard. And bagels.”
“No, this looks great.” Liam took the seat to her right, and her dad sat across from him. “It’s just a lot of food.”
She shrugged. “If you guys don’t finish it, I’ll just feed it to the ducks when I go running tomorrow morning.”
“Feed the ducks?” Liam grinned. “You’re funny, Cora McLeod. I love that about you.”
When he smiled at her like that, she felt a familiar warmth bloom inside her like a caress, spiraling through her limbs until her toes curled. It was completely unexpected, and unsettling as hell. She didn’t like it. “You haven’t known me long enough to love anything about me,” she said sharply.
Liam looked startled, and then...sad, for some reason.
Guilt washed over her. She shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. But it was true. He didn’t get to just breeze into her life and say he loved things about her within the first twenty minutes of meeting her. Whatever the odd sensation was inside her, it made no sense, and she didn’t trust it. She cast a guilty glance at her dad. He gave her a disappointed frown.
“Yes, of course. You’re right,” Liam said carefully. “I only meant that I enjoyed your joke.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she mumbled, pouring some orange juice. “But okay.”
“So, Liam,” Hugh said brightly. “Are you looking forward to starting work tomorrow? Protect and serve.” He smiled and handed Liam the syrup. “The Providence Falls police force will be a lot smaller than you’re used to in Raleigh, but it’s a great group.”
“Sure.” Liam was holding the syrup like he didn’t know what to do with it. Weird. He set it down in the middle of the table.
“You must be looking forward to working with your old friend,” Hugh continued. “How long’s it been since you’ve seen each other?”
“My old friend?” Liam looked confused. “It’s, uh, been a while.” He lifted his waffle and absently took a bite.
Weirder. Cora watched him from beneath her lashes. Who eats waffles with their hands?
“I was surprised to learn Captain Thompson was a buddy of yours back in Ireland,” Hugh said. “And now he’s going to be your boss. Such a small world.”
Liam choked. Coughed. She reached over and thumped him on the back, then she poured him some juice and handed it to him. When her fingertips brushed his, he jerked his hand away, nearly spilling it. He muttered something under his breath with a shocked look on his face. Cora thought she heard him say angels and killing me. She narrowed her eyes. Something was up with this guy.
“Boyd doesn’t even have an Irish accent,” Hugh continued, “so I just assumed he was born in the US. Apparently he moved here when he was still young, so that’s why he sounds like a regular American.”
“But your own accent’s pretty faint, Liam,” she pointed out. “Practically nonexistent. What’s up with that? My dad says you were raised in Ireland and only moved here after you turned eighteen.”
“Uh, yes.” Liam took a drink.
Was he stalling?
Suddenly his eyes flew wide and he stared in wonder at the orange juice in his glass. “This is bloody marvelous!”