“Thanks,” Sloan said, a fraction too late.
Matty glanced back over her shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
The look lasted a second too long—long enough to leave Sloan standing there, absurdly aware of herself.
Then the smell hit her—butter…garlic for sure. Rosemary and cooked tomatoes, maybe? Something savoury and rich enough to make her realise she was starving.
She looked past Matty towards the kitchen, sniffing the aromas.
“What’s that?”
Matty followed her gaze as if she’d forgotten. “Oh. Dinner.”
Sloan stared at her.
“Well, Gloria was watching one of those films where everyone looks miserable in their stately home and nobody says what they mean, so I had a bit of time on my hands.” She bent to zip up her bag. “I made pasta bake. Did a bit of cleaning. Thought I may as well make myself useful.”
Sloan said nothing.
Matty straightened, bag in hand, and seemed to register her expression properly. “I hope that’s alright. I know it’s your house. I just... There wasn’t much else to do, and she’d settled, so...”
“No,” Sloan said quickly, “it’s fine. Really.”
Matty’s face eased.
From the lounge came Gloria’s voice, dry as old paper. “If you two are done loitering in the hall, some of us are trying to hear this.”
Matty bit back a smile.
Sloan followed her into the kitchen.
The table had been laid. Nothing elaborate, just plates, cutlery, glasses, and a dish in the middle with the pasta bake still gently steaming under a tea towel. The scene should not have done what it did to her. It was just a table. In her own kitchen. Set for dinner.
And yet...
Matty put her bag down by the back door and reached for oven gloves. “Sit down. You look like you’ve had a day.”
Sloan rested a hand on the back of a chair. “This is...lovely.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
Matty peeled back the tea towel, and Sloan stepped closer before she could stop herself.
“It smells good,” Sloan said.
Matty looked up at her then. “Thanks.”
Again, with that look—direct, warm, entirely too steady.
Sloan reached for the serving spoon at the same moment Matty did. Their fingers knocked together. Neither of them moved straight away.
“Sorry,” Matty said, though she didn’t sound sorry.
“Go on,” Sloan told her.
Matty’s mouth twitched, and for a moment, neither of them looked away.
Then Matty drew her hand back and turned to the plates. “Right. Well. Since I’m cooking, I may as well dish up, too.”
