Page 25 of So Bad It Must Be Good

But he hadn’t been home, and as far as Liam knew, hadn’t contacted Kayla.

And what do you know?

Not a whole lot. Except that he was an idiot.

He raked his fingers through his hair, which probably ruined any attempt he’d made to brush it. Which was fine, because he was not worried about his appearance. He was never worried about his appearance.

He muttered a curse, but it was cut off halfway through by his doorbell. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. You will not be an idiot. You will not be an idiot.

He opened the door and plastered his best customer-ready smile on his face. “Hey.”

She wore jeans and a thermal shirt with little printed . . . he squinted to try and figure it out. Owls? Purple owls. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, wisps of escaped red waving around her face.

“Here, I brought you something,” she offered, shoving a small tin at him. He took it, if only because he was afraid she’d jam it into his chest again if he didn’t.

“You didn’t have to—”

She waved a hand in an odd gesture, stepping inside as he moved out of the way. “It’s just brownies. I made a double batch as a, you know, thank-you for . . .”

He raised his eyebrows at her and she blew out a breath. “I don’t know. It’s a lot easier to be brave about shoehorning yourself into someone’s life via text.”

“You’re not shoehorning. It was an offer.” Her nerves settled his, ever the fixer.

“Right. Well, I . . . My cousin’s birthday is next week, actually, and I wanted to maybe buy something of yours and paint it for her, though I don’t know much about painting wood. But you could maybe show me?” Her blue eyes were both hopeful and concerned, and it would take a far stronger man than him to ever turn down that look.

“I could definitely show you. Let me just put these down and then we’ll head out to the workshop.”

She gave a sharp nod and he walked away, placing the brownies on the kitchen counter and grabbing his keys. When he returned to her, she was standing next to his fireplace, examining the short row of pictures there.

She looked back at him somewhat sheepishly. “I didn’t realize you had such a big family,” she said, pointing at the picture of the Patrick family reunion from the year after Dad’s heart attack when Grandma had made a big deal about everyone attending. Even Aiden had showed up from who knew where.

“Dad’s got nine brothers and sisters, and most of them have five-plus kids, then half of them have started in.” At her wide-eyed look, he shrugged. “Irish Catholic.”

She smiled. “So are we.”

“I haven’t seen you at mass.”

She narrowed her eyes, sizing him up. “You do not go to mass.”

He shrugged. “Not every Sunday, but Grandma Patrick has guilt trips down to an art form. Even Aiden graces a pew far more than you’d think to give him credit for.”

She laughed, the sound bright and sweet in his house, which was the strangest thing, really. It wasn’t as though he never dated, but he usually didn’t have women in his living room laughing about his church attendance.

“So, um, workshop?”

“Right. Yes. Let’s do that,” she said, clasping her hands together.

They walked out back and to his garage. He focused on unlocking the padlock and not staring at the rainbow polka dots on her flimsy tennis shoes as her feet shifted behind him.

He didn’t get why she was nervous when she was the one who’d suggested this whole thing, but he supposed it was better than him feeling like the awkward one.

He pushed open the garage door and glanced at the sky when a roll of thunder sounded. Fat drops of rain started to fall and Kayla hurried inside. Lightning flashed in the sky.

“Better close up,” Liam offered, pulling the garage door back down and then flipping on the lights.

Something about being in his workshop relaxed his whole being, even with Kayla there. Here, there was no problem he couldn’t solve, no thing he couldn’t create. He didn’t have to worry about his family, or Patrick & Sons. It was just him and what he could make out of a piece of wood.

And Kayla Gallagher.

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