‘Yeah, but Polly was a new disciple, a convert. There’s nothing my mam likes so much as people spreading the word, reinforcing the Killorgally success story. It’s all good PR and I let the side down by giving it all up.’

‘But surely your mum understood how you felt…’ Hannah, shocked at his harsh tone, couldn’t believe Adrienne would be so impartial where her own son was concerned. Her aunt might not be Hannah’s biological mother but in every other way she was her mother, and would have been the fiercest in protection of her chicks.

Conor lifted his chin and gazed over her head out of the window but she could see the hurt in his taut jawline.

‘Anyway, all water under the bridge now and I’ve no idea why I’m spilling my guts like this to you.’

‘Because you can?’ suggested Hannah.

‘Something like that. You’ve no preconceived notions of me and I don’t feel I have to explain too much, you’re sharp. Like a good knife. You cut away through the crap to the nub of things.’

For some reason being compared to one of his stock-in-trade tools felt like a high compliment.

‘Now, can you boil that kettle for me and make some stock?’ He slid a stock cube along the counter towards her.

She picked up the foil-wrapped cube. ‘Stock cube? I thought we were supposed to caramelise bones in the oven and boil them and all that malarky.’

‘And sometimes a common stock cube will do.’ He winked.

‘Thank God for that,’ said Hannah, with a heartfelt tone that made him smile.

Chapter Sixteen

The rest of the week passed rather amicably between her and Conor which was just as well because there was just no way of getting away from him; he worked in the kitchen every day and was at home in the cottage every evening.

He had a fund of funny, self-deprecating stories about his days in New York and LA, about celebrities and famous people behaving badly, and he shared them with wicked humour. Despite the growing awareness that he was a lot more down to earth than she’d first thought, she still knew that she had to keep her distance. It was getting harder and harder, especially when he was so easy to be with. However, the same thought kept coming back to her, if something more did happen between them where could it possibly lead? A broken heart? She couldn’t take that risk.

One night after dinner at the farmhouse with the others, she came home to find him in the kitchen frowning over a set of plans. The sight of the unfurled rolls of paper piqued her interest and she tried to squint at them without appearing to.

‘You look fed up or cross or something,’ she observed.