‘That’s life, I guess.’ Amy sighed, then frowned as she laid a hand against her ribs. They were clearly more painful than she was letting on.
Tad paused, deciding to ignore his earlier self’s sense of propriety as he leant into her and lowered his voice. ‘Can I just let you know – in case it’s of interest, for your ribs you understand – I hold a first-aid certificate. And I’m as good at rubbing in liniment as the next man. Maybe better.’
Amy’s mouth dropped open, but her eyes danced with amusement. ‘Did you really say that?’
Tad lowered his voice further. ‘Aye. Rubbing is one of my specialities.’
‘Oh my God, that’s outrageous,’ she added, starting to laugh.
‘I do my best,’ he added.
‘Taddeo, you’re very naughty.’ Her focus on him was absolute, and Tad let the warmth from her gaze flow over him like the early-morning sunrise.
‘Say that again. Slowly.’
‘Taddeo,’ she said, her voice dropping to no more than a whisper. ‘You are very naughty.’
‘Do you want any salad?’
Malcolm passed the bowl of salad leaves to Amy. Distracted, she took a few, then passed the bowl on to Tad. Once he’d got rid of it, he turned to her again, but the spell had been broken.
* * *
Amy’s heart was pounding loud enough to relegate the clinks and clatter of cutlery on plates, and the chatter of the other guests so far into the background as to be non-existent. The pounding from her heart was so loud in her own ears she felt sure Tad would be able to hear it, too. But he didn’t seem to have noticed. Instead, with the electric moment created by Tad’s outrageous comment about liniment broken by Malcolm and the salad bowl, Tad cut into his baked mushroom and wrapped the stringy bits of melted blue cheese around the breadcrumbs on the top of the segment before he popped it into his mouth and began to chew.
When he turned back to her, a single breadcrumb had taken up residence at the corner of his mouth and Amy didn’t know which action was higher up in her conscious thoughts – to laugh at his inability to eat properly, or to offer to lick it off.
‘You’ve got some of it…’ She pointed to his lips. ‘Breadcrumbs.’
He licked at the corner of his mouth, and Amy was grateful her cheeks had already reached peak colour as she concentrated on her breathing.
‘My mother always told me I was the messiest eater she’d ever known. Thanks.’
‘Welcome,’ she said, her throat tight with the effort of sounding normal.
‘Are you trying not to laugh at me, Amy?’ he said.
I’m trying not to tell you how much I wish I was that breadcrumb,she thought, squashing the words between tight lips as she shook her head.
‘Listen, do you fancy going for a drink later? I know a lovely little?—’
‘Yes. Yes Tad, I would like that very much.’
* * *
Hugh was faffing around making coffee when Amy shot past him. She’d whizzed upstairs after the meal, cleaning her teeth and generally staring at herself in the full-length mirror as she gave Tad the time he needed to clear the dishes and be ready to leave. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone else, hadn’t wanted to feel compelled to explain to Billie where she was going. She’d fidgeted, told herself to get a grip, then had skipped back downstairs, eager to get out of the cookery school and head to whatever was going to happen next.
She didn’t give Hugh time to say anything, threw him a smile as she crossed into the kitchen and peered through the doorway.
Tad had swapped his chef’s coat for a lightweight jacket on top of a fresh, clean white tee. As she leant against the doorframe, pretending her heart wasn’t still banging like a drummer on speed, she aimed for a nonchalant expression.
‘You OK?’ Tad said as he rounded the counter and headed in her direction. ‘You still good to go?’
Amy gave up on nonchalance and smiled. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Do you mind me dressed like this?’ He pointed at his trousers. ‘I keep a fresh T-shirt or two down here in case I throw food over myself, but I can’t match up to you and that sensational dress.’
‘You like it?’ she said.
