Just a Taste (2 page)

“I thought so.” Jimmy took off his coat and hung it in the closet. “Your sister's too picky.”

“I am not,” Moira retorted.

Before the discussion could go further, Eileen called from the kitchen, “Moira, come help with the vegetables.”

She shot Liam a dirty look.

He shrugged. “Don't look at me. I offered to help when I got here. She doesn't want my help.”

Moira moped out of the room. Liam knew it wasn't fair that their mother assigned traditional gender roles.

“What was the hug about?” Jimmy asked when Moira had left.

“I don't want to talk about it. Tell me about the house.” Anything to keep his mind off his plans for later that afternoon. He and Jimmy didn't have long to talk alone. Before he knew it, Ryan and Quinn arrived with baby Patrick, and Michael and Brianna came in. Colin arrived solo.

Moira came out of the kitchen as Colin sat on the couch beside Liam. “Where's Elizabeth?”

“At the bar.”

“Why do I get the feeling she's avoiding family dinner? Doesn't she know it's a requirement? Shoot, if I have to be here, she should too.”

“You're blood. No escaping it. She likes to point out that she's not an O'Leary and is therefore not required to be here.”

Moira headed back to the kitchen, but shot over her shoulder, “Then maybe it's about time you made her an O'Leary.”

Liam watched Colin and smiled. He recognized the look on his big brother's face.

“What are you looking at?” Colin asked.

“Did you already buy the ring?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You go ahead and play it cool around Moira because we know she'll flap her jaws to everyone, but I saw your face change when she suggested marriage.”

Colin leaned closer. “Is it that obvious?”

Liam shook his head. “Probably not to everyone. But you don't get nervous and that's what I saw.”

“The damn thing has been burning a hole in my pocket for a couple of weeks now. I can't figure out when to ask. Or where to ask. It seems like it would be a big deal for a woman, you know? I don't want to screw it up.”

“I've got nothing for you there, but let me know if there's anything I can do to help.”

Colin picked up the remote and turned the TV on to a football game. The Bears were losing to the Packers as usual. Within minutes, all four O'Leary men along with Jimmy O'Malley were sitting in the living room, screaming at the television at football players who couldn't hear them.

Hours later, Liam drove through the Humboldt Park neighborhood, dreading his destination. He'd missed the viewing at the funeral home intentionally. He didn't want to see Gus like that. The thought alone brought too many memories of his own father's funeral. The street in front of the Delgado house was filled with bumper-to-bumper cars. He drove around the corner and searched for a spot.

The flowers he bought wobbled in the passenger seat and part of him wanted to leave. But he couldn't. It wouldn't be right. Not for Gus and not for Carmen. At the end of the next block, he squeezed into a spot. As he stepped from his car, a blast of cold air hit him. He pulled his jacket tighter around him with one hand while he cradled the flowers in the other.

He walked into the harsh wind down the block toward Gus's house. He hadn't been a guest at Gus's house often, but he'd eaten dinner there a few times. Of course, he'd been there when Gus's wife had died. He hadn't stayed long. His own grief had been still too fresh and he couldn't stand it.

It had been years and he thought by now it would be easier, but with each heavy step, his doubt increased. He climbed the steps to the porch and knocked. No one answered. The noise from the other side of the door was loud. He knocked harder and then turned the knob.

He entered the house and looked around. People packed the entire living room. He stood still for a moment, allowing the air of the room to warm him. He studied the faces and realized he didn't know anyone. No one approached him, but many looked in his direction with open interest.

Then he spotted Carmen. She bustled around, taking plates and delivering coffee to older men and women around the room. He crossed to her and followed until she went into the kitchen. He waited in the doorway.

The kitchen was empty of guests. She put the dishes in the sink and then braced her arms on the counter and released a breath that shuddered through her. Guilt poked at him. He was interrupting a private moment and he should leave, but his feet wouldn't listen.

He cleared his throat. “Carmen?”

She straightened slowly before turning to face him. A slow smile formed on her face. “Liam.”

He hadn't been sure she would remember him. “How are you holding up?”

She lifted her shoulders in answer. The question was dumb. That was one of the worst parts of dealing with people after his father had died. The dumb questions from people.

“Here.” He held the flowers out to her. “I know it doesn't help or ease the pain in any way, but I couldn't come here empty-handed.”

“Thank you. They're beautiful.” She took the vase from him and looked for a free space on the counter. The entire kitchen table and the length of the counter held trays and bowls of food. The smells made his mouth water even though he wasn't hungry.

“Can I get you something to eat?” she offered after she stashed the flowers in the corner near the refrigerator.

“No. Can I help with some of this? Do something for you? You look like you have your hands full with all of your guests.” He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, prepared to help.

She blinked a couple of times. “Uh . . . In all honesty, I'll probably end up throwing most of this out. There's just too much.” She turned in a circle. “Coffee. I need to make more.”

Liam moved forward. The girl looked dead on her feet. How could her family not see this? He pulled a chair out from the table. “Sit. I'll make it.”

“No, it's okay.”

“Carmen, sit down. Take a break and relax for a minute.” While not harsh, his tone was firm and she sat.

He remembered when Gus's wife, Inez, died and the house had been filled like this. Gus loved having the family here, but Carmen had hidden in the kitchen, overwhelmed. Liam had joined her then too. He moved around the kitchen making coffee and then washed the dishes that were in the sink.

“You don't have to do that, Liam.”

“I know. I like to feel useful. And I don't think anyone in your family wants to chat me up.” He rinsed a dish and put it in the drain. “I came here to see you, Carmen. I don't know anyone else. Your dad was my friend.”

He heard her hiccupping breath. When he turned, he expected to see her crying, but she just stared off at nothing. Drying his hands quickly, he squatted in front of her. “What do you need, Carmen? I watched you run around here, taking care of everyone. What can I do for you?”

Her focus shifted until her eyes met his. So much sadness. He wanted to wrap her in a tight hug, but they had never had that kind of relationship. They'd had a teasing, laughing one with minimal contact. And that had been years ago.

“Could you take the coffee into the living room? I just need a few minutes.”

He patted her knee before rising. “Take all the time you need.”

Of all the people to see her, really see her, no way had Carmen expected it to be Liam O'Leary. She had called him out of respect for her father, but she hadn't thought he'd come. Maybe to the funeral home, but certainly not to the house. She'd escaped to the kitchen because she needed to get away from the looks and comments, the rubs against her hand meant to reassure her that things would be okay.

So many people filled her small house. The air became oppressive and she couldn't breathe. When Liam caught her in the kitchen, she felt her nerves unraveling and he'd seen it.

“Who's the white boy pouring coffee? Tia Rosalie wants to know,” Rosa said.

So much for a minute of peace. Carmen turned to face her cousin. “It's Liam O'Leary. He stopped by to pay his respects and offered to get the coffee for me.”

Carmen pushed away from the table. If Rosa was in the kitchen, others would surely follow. Especially if Liam drew attention. And how could he not? He didn't exactly blend with her family. Once on her feet, she swayed.

Rosa caught her arm. “Hey now. Are you all right?”

She nodded weakly. “I'm fine. A little worn out. It's a lot to take in at once, you know?”

Liam returned with the coffeepot, still half full, which was a good sign. Maybe people were planning to leave soon. She took the pot from him. “Thank you.”

“What else can I do? Want me to wrap up the food?”

She glanced at Rosa. If she mentioned throwing it all away, Rosa would get nosy. “Why don't you make yourself a plate to take with you? I'll never be able to eat all of this.”

“Rosa,” someone called from the living room.

Rosa waited, looking at Carmen's face. “Are you sure you're okay? Mom and Dad are probably ready to go.”

“I'm good. Thanks.” She forced a smile that she hoped would pass the test for her cousin.

“Call if you need anything.” She grabbed Carmen in a hug and added in her ear, “I mean it.”

“I will,” Carmen whispered back. The brief respite she'd taken had to be enough. She followed Rosa back into the living room to say good-bye to her family and walk them out. Luckily, when Rosa's family decided to leave, the rest of the family followed suit. It had taken another hour, but Carmen closed the door on her last cousin and sank against the door.

Blissful quiet.

Except not. Water was running in the kitchen. Who? Then she remembered Liam. She'd completely forgotten about him. She shoved away from the door and walked to the kitchen. In the doorway, she froze. The entire room was clean. Dishes stacked neatly on the drain and counter. Liam hadn't noticed her presence and she watched him for a moment.

He was bigger now than he'd ever been. Broader. But his red hair and freckles hadn't changed. And those blue eyes still had the ability to mesmerize her.

A flash of memory struck her: Liam, elbows-deep in the stainless sink at her father's restaurant. Physically he'd always stood out in that kitchen, the one white guy among a bunch of Mexicans, but he fit in somehow. His love for her father's food brought him into the fold.

“Everyone gone?” he asked without turning around.

“Yes.” She walked to him and leaned against the counter. “Thank you for cleaning up. You didn't have to do that.”

“It didn't look like anyone else was going to help.” He winked at her. “Besides, it was like old times.”

“I had the same thought when I saw you standing at the sink. You're far from being a dishwasher now, though, right? My dad was always bragging about what a great chef you are.” She crossed her arms over her middle. For all the details she'd handled over the days, she'd spoken very little of her father.

“I wouldn't be where I am today if your dad hadn't fostered my love of cooking.” He dried his hands on the towel at the edge of the sink, then picked up a glass dish filled with food. “My to-go container. I'll return it when I'm finished.”

“No problem. Thank you for your help. Really.”

“I know you said you were going to throw the food away, but I broke it up into meal-sized portions and put it in the fridge. If you freeze some, you probably won't have to cook for weeks.”

She shook her head with a smile. This man, who was a virtual stranger, had helped in ways that her family couldn't. They meant well and she couldn't hold that against them. But Liam let her be. She briefly recalled her dad talking about Liam's father dying. It had been while Mom was sick and Carmen had been overwhelmed. She hadn't even really paid attention.

“I'll see you tomorrow.” He gently touched her shoulder with his free hand and gave a little squeeze.

Tomorrow. At the funeral. She offered a weak nod, not trusting her voice. He grabbed his coat and left without a sound. Carmen locked up and stood in her living room, a room she'd grown up in, and the silence assaulted her.

She'd wanted the silence, the peace, but now she felt like it would swallow her whole. She turned the TV back on, found the telenovelas her mother loved to watch, and then she curled up on the couch.

CHAPTER 2

D
ays passed and Liam poured himself into work. Jonathan had been riding him harder than usual and Liam didn't know why. Maybe another critic had stopped by. It would serve Jonathan right if it had happened on Liam's night off. He didn't need to see the receipts to know that service was down when Jonathan was at the helm. Liam had thought focusing on work would soothe him, but it hadn't.

He'd gone to Gus's funeral, suffered through it. He didn't stay after the service. The family's grief was palpable and Liam couldn't stomach it. Carmen had looked unflappable, which he found more alarming than the women crying loudly.

Brief moments of sadness and grief stole across her face, but she'd covered it well. Now he stood in his kitchen staring at the Pyrex pan he'd borrowed the night of the wake. It had been sitting on the counter taunting him. He knew he had to return it, should return it, but he was afraid to face Carmen. He knew from experience that it was easy to hold it together for the funeral, but later, sometimes days or weeks later, the grief and sorrow would catch up.

Chances were good that she would never even notice the missing pan. But he knew that would eat at him.

He grabbed the pan and bundled up against the cold night air. Just over a month until Christmas. These weeks would be especially hard for Carmen. Then the start of a new year. His personal deadline to figure out what he wanted for his future.

As he drove across town, he didn't think of Carmen, but of his own family. They'd questioned him plenty over every family dinner about whether he planned to open his own restaurant. They knew he'd been considering it. Jimmy pushed more than his siblings had, but that was Jimmy's way. Part of him wanted his own place. Being able to make his own decisions. Hiring people he knew would work well as part of his team. Trying new menu items just because he had the idea to.

But along with all the fun came the responsibility, not only for himself and his success, but people would be counting on him for paychecks. Gus's death was a reminder of the burden that came with being an owner. Even as a lowly dishwasher, he'd been aware of the lean months when Gus didn't know if he'd be able to pay the utilities.

Liam parked on the street, noting that it was much more empty than it had been on his last trip. He stared up at Gus's house. Yes, Gus had struggled, but then he'd found success. The restaurant had been thriving when Gus sold it because Inez had gotten sick. He hadn't thought he could run the restaurant without her.

More like he didn't want to.

Shoving morose thoughts from his mind, Liam stepped from the car and breathed a lungful of cold air. It felt like an early winter. Icy wind slapped at him and although no snow lay on the ground, everything was frozen.

No lights brightened the house, but he saw the blue glow of the TV, so he rang the bell. It wasn't late, so he was sure Carmen would be awake. He waited patiently, but the tip of his nose quickly numbed.

She swung the door open with a look of surprise. “Hi.” Her smile was only a little forced.

“Hi. I came to return your pan.” He held it up as if that somehow made a difference.

“Thanks.” She paused, looked over her shoulder, and then added, “Come on in. It's freezing out there.”

He followed her into the dark room and noticed the moving boxes. Was she moving out of her family's home? She clicked on a table lamp and then he saw. Gus's clothes were scattered around the furniture. She was clearing out her dad's stuff.

“I'll take that.” She reached for the pan and he handed it over. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink? I don't have much here, but—”

“I'm good.” He sat on the couch, avoiding the armchair he knew had been Gus's. When she returned empty-handed, he asked, “How are you doing?”

She nodded. “I'm okay, I guess.”

“Why are you doing this by yourself?”

“I want to.” She sat slowly on the chair. “My cousin offered to help, but her solution would be to toss everything. My aunts would spend too much time crying.”

He stared at this young, incredibly strong woman and his heart went out to her. “How about you take a break? Let me take you out for a drink and we can catch up.”

Her eyebrows came together and she tilted her head as if he'd spoken a foreign language.

“I can see you've been at this for a while. It's my night off. Let's go out.”

She stood, but tugged on her sweatshirt. “I'm not really dressed to go out.”

“I wasn't thinking about taking you clubbing, just a quiet bar to talk. I think you look great, but I'll wait if you want to change.”

“You know it doesn't say much for your social life if this is how you spend your night off.” Her smile was small, but cocky, the same one she used to toss at him when she sped through the kitchen hoping her mom wouldn't catch her and put her to work.

“I don't know. I think I got the better end of the deal here.”

Her smile broadened and she went from a grief-stricken daughter to a beautiful woman.

“Let me grab my jacket.” She ran into another room and reappeared a few minutes later with a jacket on and if he looked closely, it seemed like she might've applied some makeup. Whatever she'd done, she already looked lighter, happier. Yeah, a break might do them both some good.

Liam led the way to his car. “Any place you prefer to go?”

“Nope. I don't have a preference. I don't get out much.”

He pulled away from the curb and away from her house. Carmen immediately began chatting. “Where are you working now?”

“Porter's downtown.”

“Swanky, huh?”

“It's okay.”

“That's not a resounding endorsement. Don't you like it? It seems like just the kind of place you always talked about working at.”

He focused on the street and tried to remember when he had ever mentioned plans to Carmen.

She smacked his arm. “You don't even remember, do you?”

He slid her a look but didn't answer.

“One day when my mom caught me trying to sneak out the back door, she made me help you with the dishes. As if you needed help. You were like a machine.” She paused and he heard the smile in her voice. “You actually did all the work that day while I sat my butt on the counter.” She laughed quietly. “Getting you to talk was like . . . I don't know. Except that day. I don't know what happened, but you talked about your plans for after culinary school. I was really impressed.”

He suddenly remembered the conversation with her. He'd aced his courses at school and it had been the first time he knew being a chef wasn't just a silly dream, but something he would excel at. He'd scrubbed pots and pans that day and allowed his mind to wander to the possibilities.

Then he had a cute girl wanting to talk to him and speaking those dreams aloud hadn't seemed like a bad idea.

“Yeah, well, I felt sorry for you. Your mom forced you to hang out with me in the one place you seemed to hate.”

“I didn't hate the restaurant. I just didn't want to work in the kitchen.” Her voice faded and he knew they'd crossed into a topic she didn't want to discuss.

She stared out the window for a minute before speaking again. “You still didn't tell me why you don't like your job.”

“I like it.” He paused, searching for the words to explain. “It doesn't feel like it's enough anymore. When my boss hired me, I was so excited to have my own kitchen. At least that's what I thought I was getting. I didn't bother to ask why the last chef left, or any of the others before me.”

“So your boss is a dick.”

Her assessment made him chuckle. “Yeah. That's one way to put it.”

“So what do you plan to do?”

“I don't know.” He pulled into a parking lot of a neighborhood bar. He had no idea what the place was like since this wasn't his neighborhood, but it looked like a sports bar, which should be safe enough.

The inside of the bar was warm with the press of bodies. He'd forgotten about football on Thursday nights. Most people were huddled around the bar and the two big TVs there, so he led Carmen farther back to a small table. A harried waitress came by quickly. He ordered a scotch for himself and looked at Carmen.

“A beer?”

“Are you not sure?”

“I told you I don't get out much. Rosa always orders beer.”

“What brand?” the waitress asked.

Carmen shrugged.

“Why not try something new? A margarita? A martini?”

Something lit in Carmen's eyes. “Yes.”

“Which one?”

“Let's start with a margarita. I know I like that.” She slid her jacket off and hung it on the back of her chair.

Liam realized that she'd changed her shirt when she went to her room. Gone was the oversized sweatshirt. She wore a black top that wrapped in some crazy crisscross over her chest, emphasizing her breasts.

Whoa. He had never thought about Carmen as a woman. At least not one whose chest he'd ogle. She was only three years younger than him, but when he'd worked for Gus, she was still in high school, which made her off limits.

“I don't think I've had a margarita since college, but I vaguely remember having a really good time while drinking them.”

He wanted to know about her time in college and what she'd been doing since, but he didn't want to bring up a subject she didn't want to discuss. Tonight was about her having a good time, a chance to escape the sadness for a little while.

Carmen studied Liam's face. Always so serious. He had a permanent pinched line that ran between his eyebrows. Even when he smiled, it was just a lift of the corners of his mouth. She wondered if he ever laughed.

She couldn't remember ever hearing him laugh. The thing she remembered most about Liam was how quiet he was. He watched everything, but said little.

Except that night in the kitchen of her dad's restaurant that had come like a flash to her brain. She hadn't thought about those days—or Liam—in a long time. He'd been different that night. In truth, she'd thought he was flirting with her. Not that she'd had much experience with guys flirting.

The waitress returned with their drinks and placed them on small napkins before asking if they needed anything else. The odd yellow color of her drink made Carmen question if she'd ordered correctly. She turned the glass before picking it up.

Liam raised his glass. “What should we drink to?”

“To old friends.” She clinked her glass against his. Her lips touched the salted rim before the cold citrusy taste of the margarita slid onto her tongue. Yeah, she'd ordered right. This was a drink she could get drunk on. Her gaze slid to Liam. He'd let her get drunk and take care of her, take her home.

That was more than she could say with Rosa. Rosa drank in bars to find men. If she found one, Carmen was on her own. But not tonight.

“Something wrong with your drink?”

“Nope. I was remembering how much I really like margaritas.” She sipped again. “The first time I got drunk was on margaritas. I was seventeen and the busboys snuck a pitcher without my dad knowing. By the time cleanup was done for the night, I couldn't stand straight.”

Liam smiled, as much as he seemed to do anyway. Lines bracketing his mouth were the only sign that it was a genuine smile. Now she really wanted to hear him laugh.

“Where was I when this happened?”

She shrugged. “It must've been your night off.”

“Did your dad find out?”

“Of course he did. He had to practically carry me to the car. He asked who gave me the alcohol, but I wouldn't tell.” She sipped again. She'd refused to tell because she'd liked the one boy, whose name escaped her now. He'd shown her attention and back then, she'd been desperate for attention from boys. “It was one of the few times I remember Dad being furious.”

“I think I would've paid to see Gus yell at perfect little Carmen.”

She laughed. “He yelled a lot.”

“Not at you. You could do nothing wrong in his eyes. The rest of us, however, got used to the yelling. The only other choice was to quit. Gus was good practice for being a chef. We all like to yell.”

“No way. Are you telling me that behind this quiet exterior lurks Chicago's very own Gordon Ramsay?”

“I'm not that bad, but most chefs are particular in how they want things run.”

“Now I'm tempted to spy on you at work. I can't imagine you even raising your voice a little. You're too quiet.”

“Yelling isn't always about an increase in volume.” He was so calm and cool.