He grabbed the box from my hands and leaned in. “I could still spank you for misbehaving,” he teased, his eyes glinting with challenge. I could tell right away he was trying to catch me off guard. Too bad for him, two can play that game.
“Not with that big box you can’t,” I replied, lightly tapping his cheek while he was defenseless. I walked past him, catching a chuckle. Inside, Ava was already unloading bags onto the kitchen counter.
“Did you buy some beer?” Alex asked, crouching to help Ava unpack the bags while the others crowded around the counter, poking through the snacks.
“Luke’s bringing it in.” As summoned, the door swung open and Luke walked in, a box of beer in one hand like it weighed nothing, an open bottle in the other. His bicep pulled at his sleeve when he adjusted his grip, and I had to tell myself to look away, to focus on the pretzels Alex had just pulled out of a bag.The box hit the counter with a dull thud, and Luke gave a casual grin, completely at ease.
As I unloaded groceries onto the table, Luke reached into the bag and plucked out a bruised apple, holding it up like it had personally offended him. He turned it over in his hand, brow furrowing before glancing at the rest of the fruit with exaggerated suspicion.
“What’s wrong with these?” he asked, as though I’d dragged home a sack of rotten produce.
“Nothing’s wrong. Don’t insult my fruit,” I said in full defense. “It’s not bad—just a little older than the shiny young ones. It’s still in great shape.”
Luke’s mouth quirked in a grin as he leaned against the counter, clearly enjoying the show. I clutched the fruit closer to my chest like a parent shielding a child, refusing to give him the satisfaction of winning this ridiculous argument. I decided to change the subject.
“How can I help?”
“Oh no, Hazel, this is my thing, you’re not obligated to help here,” Ava said, starting on the veggies.
“Yeah, listen to her. She rarely lets anyone into her kitchen. And she doesn’t let you snack either,” Alex said, grabbing an apple from the counter, and Ava slapped his hand. “See?”
“That’s because you eat all my ingredients. Now shoo!” she scolded, waving him off.
“I’m not trying to take over,” I said, laughing. “Just thought I could help with something simple—peeling, washing... keeping Alex out of your way, apparently.”
Alex gave me an exaggerated offended look, and I continued, “It’s not fair for you to cook for eight people alone. I promise not to mess anything up.” I placed a hand on my heart in solemnity.
Ava tossed me an apron. “Fine, newbie.”
“Good luck,” Ethan teased from the doorway. “Hope Ava doesn’t make you flee the country if you scrub a cabbage wrong.”
A peanut flew across the room, bouncing off his head.
“Who washes them with soap, you dipshit?! Go, or you’re skipping dinner,” Ava snapped, and everyone scattered. Luke winked at me, leaning in to whisper, “You’re bold.”
I answered with a dismissivePshh, and he chuckled, grabbing his beer. He and Alex headed off to light a fire in the fireplace.
“Alright, here’s the plan,” Ava said as I slipped off my jacket and tied my hair into a bun. I found myself stealing glances at Luke, laughing with Alex, his hair a mess from the wind. For a moment, I imagined running my fingers through it, his arms around me like in the bookshop, those amber eyes locked on mine. There was something in those moments, in the way his eyes found mine sometimes. Like something was there.
But not for me. Not really.
* * *
“Oh God, you’ve done it again,” Norah said to Ava, putting her hands on her belly and rubbing her food baby. “You’d think we’d be used to your cooking by now, but it still gets me every time.”
“Hazel too; we both prepared the dinner,” Ava generously included me in the equation.
“Oh no, it was all you. I just peeled, washed, and chopped.” I was basking in the memory and missing the food already.
“Wow. You let her cut things? Unbelievable,” Luke teased, savoring his last bite of ravioli.
“She sliced perfect apples for the pie. Oh, speaking of which—”
“I’ve got it,” I said, standing to clear the plates. In the kitchen, I pulled the pie from the oven. The sweet scent filled the room,and the apple slices looked every bit as good as promised. I smiled, giving myself a mental high five—I had sliced them, after all.
I brought out the pie and grabbed eight plates and forks. Luke watched me, puzzled, but I ignored it. He always looked at me like that, and I never knew why.
What else? Napkins. Maybe drinks.
