He’d laughed. ‘I was going to say drunk. But yes, I think rude too. What can I say, he is older and grumpy. Ignore him.’
It hadn’t been that reassuring.
Post-shower and clothed in a burgundy shift dress, she made her way down to the kitchen to grab a slice of toast to eat on the walk to the station. But opening the kitchen door she realised that, for once, she was not the only one up.
Brad was standing by the cupboard, holding a box of tea leaves, sniffing the contents. Next to him on the counter was a familiar-looking box, its lid open.
‘Oh,’ she said, involuntarily.
He turned and looked at her, and she realised for the first time that he was eating. A cookie. One ofhercookies – the first batch she’d made since moving.
‘Hey, it’s Bella!’ he said, his mouth stretching wide into a chocolatey grin. ‘Wanna tea?’
‘Do I want one of my own teas?’ she said, wondering why she was being quite so arsey. She didn’t mind at all who used her tea ordinarily. It was something about the assumption of it. The fact he’d helped himself to her cookies and stuck his nose in her tin without so much as a by-your-leave.
His face fell. ‘Aw, shoot, is that your tea? Henri lets me help myself to his stuff, and I thought— But of course, he’s a coffee man. Sorry.’
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I’m being— it’s fine, actually. And yes please to tea.’ Her gaze wandered again to the open box of cookies, Brad’s hovering hand.
His eyes followed the same direction. ‘Oh man. These are yours too, right?’
She nodded. ‘’Fraid so.’
‘Man. I hope you weren’t saving them for something important. I just thought—Well, Henri’s always got some fancy snacks with that father of his sending hampers and such. I just assumed?—’
‘It’s fine. I can always make more.’
His eyes widened. ‘You made these?’
‘Yeah,’ she shrugged. ‘No big deal.’
‘Man alive. If I could bake like this, I’d weigh four hundred pounds! You’d have to winch me out of that attic with a frickin’ crane!’
Unexpectedly, she found herself laughing. ‘Well, I would offer to teach you, but it sounds like I wouldn’t be doing you any favours.’
‘You’d teach me?’
Oh shit. ‘Well, I guess. If you really want to learn.’ The last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with Brad. Their first encounter had been less than great, sure. But it was more than that. He was messy, his hair needed a cut, he hadn’t bothered to shave for a few days. Forget hairnets, she’d practically have to wrap him from head to toe if they started cooking together. He was probably an OK guy – Henri seemed to like him. But there was something about him that really irritated her.
Only she was in it now, wasn’t she?
‘Yeah, yeah I do.’ He absent-mindedly helped himself to another cookie, closing his eyes as he bit through its crispy outer layer and into its soft centre. ‘Mmm mmm.’
‘Don’t you have, like, work to go to or something?’ she asked suddenly. Hadn’t Henri said he was some sort of businessman?
‘Not right now.’ He flapped his hand. ‘Let’s say I’m taking a bit of time out.’
She nodded. ‘OK.’
‘One of the perks of working for yourself,’ he added, turning towards her with a grin.
She snorted and his brow furrowed.
‘What?’
‘Sorry. Not you. But I have some… experience of being self-employed, and time out wasn’t really a thing I ever got around to taking.’ She leant against the counter, then realising that was actually really uncomfortable, went to perch on the kitchen table.
‘Oh?’ He was looking at her. ‘Really? Your own business? Aren’t you like at university or something? Or, no, hang on, doing a work placement, right?’
