Page 17 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
‘No way means maybe,’ Esme said. ‘And you can’t possibly know what’s going to happen. It’s only day three.’
‘Technically it’s day two,’ Thea pointed out, ‘because Saturday doesn’t count.’
‘You already love it,’ Esme said. ‘Especially now you’ve got Mr Irascible Hash Browns.’
Thea laughed. ‘I doubt there’s anyone else in the whole of history with that nickname.’
‘That’s because we’re too creative for our own good,’ Esme said. ‘I have to go – there’s a problem with our order of cuddly Gruffalos, and it’s theonething we need to get right.’
‘Theonething?’ Thea said, feeling a lot more settled now she’d spoken to her friend. ‘Good luck with the Gruffalos, Es. And thank you.’
‘Always,’ her friend replied. ‘Catch you later.’ She hung up.
Thea’s composure lasted as long as it took her to turn around and find Ben hovering in the doorway of Sunfish Cottage.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘All done,’ he called. ‘I put the mattress back on, made it as best I could, but you might want to …’
‘Sure. Thank you so much.’
‘So, how about breakfast? In your kitchen, because mine’s a building site.’
‘You honestly don’t need to,’ Thea said, walking back up the hill. ‘After all you’ve done—’
‘This is a one-time offer,’ he said. ‘Decide what you want to do, and do it.’ She raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged. ‘Indecision goes with apologies. If I wasn’t happy to make you breakfast, I wouldn’t have offered. All you need to do is decide if you want it. If you don’t, just say so.’
Thea exhaled. ‘You’re very direct.’
‘It helps,’ he said simply. ‘Don’t forget I have hash browns in the freezer. Except …’ he glanced at his watch. ‘They’re only there for genuine emergencies. I’ll make them.’
‘You’llmakehash browns? For real?’
‘For absolute real,’ he deadpanned, and Thea, rather than feeling irritated, grinned.
‘Yes, then. A big fat yes, with knobs on. What can I do?’
‘Another coffee?’
‘Simples,’ she said, and watched as he took his toolbox back to Oystercatcher Cottage. When she went into her kitchen, she found Scooter waiting for her, as if man and dog had already decided it was a done deal. ‘Emergency hash browns, eh?’ she said, and the dog looked up at her, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about.
Half an hour later, as the kitchen filled with the irresistible smells and sizzles of a fry-up being made from scratch, Thea told herself that just because she’d agreed to breakfast, it didn’t mean she had to say yes to the walk – Ben had already made that clear. Now he was moving around her kitchen as if performing a carefully choreographed dance. He made it look so easy, and he seemed relaxed – happy, even – while he grated potato and mixed it with herbs, got the eggs and bacon rashers ready, seasoned cut-in-half tomatoes ready to grill.
The conversation wasn’t flowing like the coffee, however, and Thea knew she was responsible. She leaned against the breakfast bar, feeling useless but content to watch him.
‘Do you do a lot of cooking?’ she asked eventually.
He glanced up, a cracked eggshell in his right hand. He’d offered her a choice of eggs and she’d said buttery scrambled were her favourite. She’d always envied people who could crack eggs in one hand: her attempts always ended messily.
‘Whenever I can,’ he admitted. ‘It’s a hobby of mine.’
‘Does that mean you’re working on your kitchen first?’ She wondered if she probed slowly, her questions small and incremental, she could crack him open like he’d just done with the eggs.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, checked on the baked beans that were simmering in a pan. ‘I’ve sort-of gone all in,’ he said. ‘I just want to get it done and dusted.’
‘Sounds pretty clinical, considering it’s your own house you’re talking about. I could understand if it was a job that you weren’t that keen on, but your new home?’
His sigh was quiet. ‘I just want to get settled. The cottage needed some major renovations, and after moving here—’
