Page 76 of You, As You Are

“Do you have ale? Or beer?”

“There should be a bottle in the fridge. Why?”

“Have you ever had rarebit before?”

Maisie’s lips pulled in a grimace. “We don’t typically eat rabbits in London.”

Iain laughed that rare, hearty sound. Why couldn’t he ever do it when she had her phone in her hand ready to record, just for some proof that she hadn’t made it up?

“No,rare-bit,” he enunciated with a thicker accent. “It’s essentially cheese on toast with more alcohol involved.”

“Oh.” Maisie’s cheeks coloured at her misunderstanding.

Iain disappeared into her kitchen, and the sounds of cupboard doors being opened and shut made both her and Ted intrigued. Maisie rolled out from under her blanket and onto her feet, giving herself a few seconds for the protesting pain in her abdomen to dull to something less intolerable, before shufflingin her bed socks to see what Iain was looking for. Sometimes things hurt so much, especially all through her lower back, that she couldn’t even catch her breath, couldn’t stand straight or move her legs like normal.

Ted beat her to the kitchen and sniffed at the air where groceries and ingredients were spread across her countertop.

“What are you doing?” Maisie’s tongue lazily dragged through the question.

Iain didn’t pass her a glance as he searched every nook and cranny of her tiny kitchen that he took up most of the space of. “Breaking your rarebit virginity.”

“How do you figure that?” It was a great assumption to make – though her brain might’ve skipped therarebitpart.

“You called itrabbit.” He sent her a stern brow around a cupboard door. “You can’t even blame it on your accent.”

“I don’t have anac-cent.” Maisie copied his intonation … or at least attempted to. Her Welsh was terrible even when her nose wasn’t blocked.

“Around here, Daffy,” Iain said with a bag of plain flour getting white powder all over his hand, “you do.”

Maisie glossed over discussing the fact that she was a Londoner through and through who certainly wasn’t in London anymore, trying to rake her mind for if she’d ever had a man cook for her before, unprovoked.

It wasn’t likely.

“Why do you keep on calling me Daffy?” The first time had been at Vera’s party, and she’d heard it at least ten times since.

Iain grabbed a frying pan from the drying rack beside her sink and inspected it. “That’s something for you to think about while I cook.”

“You can cook?”

“I subscribe to the general practice of staying alive.”

Maisie rolled her eyes and went back to the settee for a nap.

Alcohol didn’t go with the pain medications she’d taken, so to Iain’s dismay he made her a sober Welsh rarebit. She didn’t have much in the way of functioning taste buds, either, but she welcomed the food to appease her gnawing stomach nonetheless. When she finished her plate, he went out to her kitchen and came back with more.

“Dank you.”Her nose blocked every sound from her mouth.

“Eat as much as you want.”

She would. And the fact that he encouraged it did wonders for her confidence. If only more people would be that thoughtful at the dinner table with a plus-sized girlie.

Maisie could’ve kissed him for keeping her plate full – she didn’t care how inflamed her body might feel in the morning because of it. All the cheesiness of the sauce and the oozing oils were delicious, combined with the sourness of the bread. The diced spring onions must have come from the bags her grandma had brought.

The dining table that she did have she used as an extension of her desk where she created her jewellery and packaged them, so there wasn’t much space for Iain to sit other than the opposite end of her sofa with Ted’s arse shoved against his side. Maisie didn’t have the concentration to focus on the television so let him scroll through the guide. It didn’t pass her by that he scrolled towards the sporting channels as he wiped cheesy sauce from his moustache and beard.

He hadn’t said anything about leaving, yet.

Puzzled, Maisie outrightly stared at his profile. Why was he being so … caring? She already established that he wasn’t here for their fake date thing. He was under no obligation to coax herthrough her cold and ill-timed cramps. And honestly, seeing a mountain be as gentle as a stream made her want to crawl into his lap and be held tightly.

---