She’d never made Puffcake, and, truth be told, she wasn’t exactly sure what they were. She was just excited to get stuck with anything that involved baking.
“Call me if you need a taste tester,” Lachlan said. “I’ll be here reading about the rising interest rates, if anyone needs me.” He gathered his laptop from the counter and headed toward the living room.
“Sounds great,” Eliza gave a little sing-song as she rinsed her hands at the sink. “But just so you know, I won’t need you.”
Finally, she thought.Finally, I get to bake alone. Or at least, almost alone.
The cabinet door flew open and slammed into Lachlan’s kneecap. Acracksounded, and he grumbled under his breath, trying not to curse from the impact.
Puffcake and Eliza exchanged a glance. “A-are you okay?” Eliza asked, shocked.
“Never better.” Lachlan turned around, jaw set tightly.
“I swear neither of us did that.” Eliza held her hands up in innocence. Puffcake followed suit, but let out a little snort.
Lachlan narrowed his eyes at Puffcake, but said nothing, only slowly turning around again to cross the threshold into the living room. Again, he was met with the cabinet doors stopping him from exiting.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s giving me a cheeky ‘not-so-fast.’”
Eliza’s shoulders slumped. She looked about the house like it had eyes and could see her displeasure. “Can you try again? This time, just try walking really slowly so the door doesn’t hit you hard.”
Lachlan tried a third time. The cabinet seemed to swing open harder than before, knocking into his other knee. “Ow!” he howled, and Eliza cupped her hand to her mouth.
“Sorry.” She winced. “I feel like that was my fault.”
“No worries.” Lachlan waved her off. “I’m just going to sit right here, if that’s okay.” Lachlan half-walked, half-limped over to the island and took a seat again. He opened his laptop—or at least tried to—but the top wouldn’t unlatch from the bottom. It was like the laptop had been glued shut.
They all stared down at it, amazed. Lachlan raised an eyebrow at Eliza. “Is this some sort of cruel joke to get me to leave?”
“What?” Eliza choked out. “You think I’m behind all this?”
He just shrugged, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms.
“I was halfway across the room when the cabinet went berserk. And I’m not cruel enough to glue your laptop closed.” When Lachlan still didn’t look convinced, Eliza placed a hand on her hip. “Look, I didn’t want to share this cottage with anyone this week. Why would I purposefully try and keep you in the same room as me?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Eliza raised her brows at him, expectant.
They locked eyes, neither of them willing to back down as the grandfather clock marked every painful, heavy second. The house seemed to chuckle its delight at the cruel little irony of the scene.
Lachlan finally raised his hands in surrender. “By all means, don’t let me, or the house, try and keep you from your baking.”
“Fine,” Eliza said, lips tight. “Butdon’texpect me to keep you company. Soon, I’ll be in my zone, and I won’t want to chit-chat with you about interest rates or fancy beach houses. Got it?”
Lachlan gave a silent salute. In response, the kitchen began pulling ingredients from the recipe card. Eliza never had to lift a finger and instead just watched the magic of the cottage unfold around her.
Eliza sighed contentedly to herself, tying off the mint green apron around her waist. Already, the butter was softening on the counter, the cupboard doors splaying open to reveal more baking goods with handwritten labels.
Puffcake turned out to be the perfect companion to be snowed in with. Unlike Lachlan, Puffcake hardly took up anyspace; he didn’t mind if Eliza retreated into the safety of her own thoughts, and, best of all, he didn’t speak.
“So ...” Lachlan sighed. “Do you have any family back home?”
Eliza didn’t answer. She tried to ignore the feeling that she was being closely watched as she pulled back her long hair into a loose topknot before setting off to work. She searched for a lighter in every crust-filled drawer, to no avail. Then she got an idea.
“Puffcake?” she called out. “Do you mind blowing fire onto the cooker while I turn the gas on?”
Happy to be of use, he did as she requested. She turned the knob on the hob, the fire-starter clicking in protest. Puffcake blew a line of fire onto the cooker, and the gentle flames erupted in a low purr.
“A sister? Cousin?” Lachlan tried again. “Once or twice removed?”
