Chapter Twenty-Seven
Garett
I haven’t spoken more than a hello to Ruby since she bolted from the pub last week. I’ve led a few classes, but she only stayed long enough to ensure they ran smoothly. The rest of the week, I was at the local college, showing them a range of skills. It was something Ruby organised and gave me a bit more money.
I nearly texted her a load of times, but we don’t text. We never have. And the regret covering her face both at the pub and the times she looked at me since suggests there’s nothing to talk about.
I’ve seen her parents a lot, though. They said to visit whenever I wanted. I’ve visited Cookie most days this week after the community college. The third time, they insisted I stay for dinner and talked to me about my dreams.
I can’t do anything to destroy the family who’ve taken the time to give me a chance, which means Ruby and I are a no-go. Not that she’s interested.
I’ve considered my future in other ways, too. Cookie and I have had several long, muddy walks. The fresh air and endless throws of the ball have filled me with the space I’ve missed. I need to find a job and somewhere I can move to, but instead, on those walks, I’ve deliberated recipes and designs for a restaurant.
I want to run a restaurant, but I can’t do it without earning head chef money for a while. I’ve put some feelers out with old contacts around the country and as far as Scotland and Ireland. There’s one possibility: the owner of a Michelin Star restaurant in Ireland said there might be a job after Christmas. She can’t tell me more for a few weeks, though.
As I walk into the school, music plays. My gaze darts right and left before air escapes my lungs.
“Hey, champ,” Kath says, making me smile. I’ve not had a nickname since I worked as a minion in the kitchens. “How is Cookie?”
I give Kath a bear hug that knocks her off her feet, and she does the same to me, although mine is an emotional knocking. This place has seeped beneath my skin, and as much as I need to pull back, I can’t. “Thank you again for everything. You were amazing.”
Kath squeezes me back. “Anything for family.”
I recognise Ruby’s clumping heels behind me. She has unusually stompy feet sometimes, but I don’t turn. I’ve thought about that kiss all week. The warmth of her skin against my hands and the moans she made when she took the kiss deeper. I can’t give her any promises for the future or be the reason for her family’s trouble. They’ve given me the world.
But eventually, I turn, and she’s staring at me like she wants to talk. The change from barely noticing my existence this week causes a tightness in my chest.
“Is there anything I need to know about today’s class?” I ask Kath.
She looks from Ruby to me, squinting. “No. It’s a normal Italian class, but please push the wine and wreath making on Monday night.”
There’s been a chill in the air all week, and as much as it reflects the mood I’m trying to instill in myself, it’s more from the change in seasons. Winter is here. In less than a week, it will be the first of December and the run-up to Christmas.
“Are we still baking later?” I ask Ruby. “I’ve got some ideas.”
She’s worrying her hands, and I pop a stick of gum into my mouth so I don’t grind my teeth. I want to make things better and hug her, but I’ve sat through a meal and several coffees where her parents talked enthusiastically about her return.
“No. I’m going to do the whole baking thing on my own,” she replies flatly, her stare focused on the floor. “I don’t need your help.”
I stand back. A pain hits my chest, and air whooshes from my mouth.
Her eyes meet mine. They’re wide as she stutters, “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” I say, cutting her dead. Did I do something wrong, or is this about her family? She could just talk to me. The peppermint bursts in my mouth as I chew slowly. I miss the taste of strawberry that lingered after my kiss with Ruby, but from the brusque way she’s rejected my help, I guess we’re done. Maybe she doesn’t even want me as a friend. “I have plans.”
Ruby’s brow furrows. “Like what?”
Kath continues to stare at us with her lips squeezed to the side.
I shrug. I’m being pigheaded, but her rejection is triggering some stuff from Clive and my parents. I should walk away or smile and be kind, but my grumpy chef persona is rearing its head. “It’s just stuff.”
Her face falls briefly. Shit, I did that. I’m an arsehole. I need to apologise.
“Right,” she says.
I clear my throat, readying myself to tell her that if she ever changes her mind, I can help, but she’s forcing a fake smile and turning to Kath. She says breezily, “Let’s get through today. I’ve had a late night, and the sooner I can get home, the better.”
“That’s probably for the best. It’s going to snow tonight,” Kath replies. Her beady eyes monitor me.
I chew the gum harder. Ruby dismissed me. I cancelled extra work to help her tonight, and although I don’t need money for Cookie anymore, I’m still nowhere near earning enough to get out of my present situation. Did she have a late night because she was on a date?
“But it’s November,” I say grumpily. I shouldn’t take things out on her, but the rejection still stings. I didn’t realise I was so easy to dismiss, at least not so easy for her.
“But it’s going to snow. I’ve got one of my snow headaches,” Kath replies.
“And we’re less than a week away from December,” Wicksy adds as he walks in the door. “We’ve been known to get a flurry every so often, and based on how my chickens are acting, it’s going to be more than a flurry.”
Ruby yawns as she side-eyes Wicksy.
“Your chickens?” Ruby asks.
“Yes, Princess Pickle Pants and Lord Fairmont of Londinium.”
“Fucking hell,” I reply.
Wicksy pushes his waves out of his face and throws aprons at us.
“There’s no one like you, Wicksy.” Kath shakes her head with smile.
“Thank fuck for that,” I add as Ruby yawns again. I’m returning to who I used to be because of one little rejection. I shake my head. I need to get it together. I walk towards my demonstration counter. Maybe if I prep, I can reset and bring back the version of myself I was starting to like, and then maybe I can talk to Ruby like a friend. She understands me better than anyone else. Maybe if I apologise and—
“Oh great. Garett is being his grumpy bastard self. It’s going to be a long day,” Ruby snaps.
I stare at her, my mouth wide as she puts her apron over her head. It hurts more coming from her. “Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed up doing whatever you were doing. Was it fun?”
“More fun than you can imagine.” She sucks her lower lip into her mouth in the way that she does when she’s turned on. She must be remembering a date.
I chew my gum harder. I should walk away and get on with the day, but my voice lowers as I reply, “I’ve imagined you can have a lot of fun. I’ve imagined it all week.”
The desperation to have the last word and to get a reaction out of her is like chilli flakes under my skin.
“Shame,” she replies. I tip my head as she sidles past me. The scent of passion fruit causes my body to respond instantly. “Because you’ll never have more than imagination when it comes to me.”
And then she walks away, leaving me huffing as I push up my sleeves.
◆◆◆
The day continues like that. We push each other’s buttons or back-chat whenever people are out of earshot.
When I was bent over checking the oven, she leaned in and whispered, “Shame that your personality is ninety-five per cent arsehole and five per cent chef.” And then she hit me on the bum.
I took my opportunity for payback when I caught her sorting ingredients in the pantry. “At least my arse isn’t the most interesting thing about me,” I grunted in her ear before tapping her butt. The whoosh of air out of her mouth was satisfying as hell as I swaggered away.
She got me later, though, as I led a section on how to season focaccia. “Your shirt isn’t tucked right. Let me get that for you.” She yanked the shirt so tight that I braced myself against the countertop. Her nails scraped the hint of my naked back when she tucked the shirt in. Arousal zipped through my body. I gripped that countertop so hard my hands hurt.
What started as trying to piss each other off was quickly becoming ways to turn each other on. She would prowl around the kitchen, sliding between me and the counter, her bum across my groin. I’d stroke her neck with the tip of my finger every time I was close when she retied her hair.
But later, when we were alone in the dining area, I stood close to her. “Your apron isn’t tied. Let me get that for you.”
I flipped her around quickly and held her hands up against the wall. I slowly tied a bow in the strings of her apron as she pushed her butt against me. My hands paused at her hips as she moved against me. Goodness knows where it would have gone next if I hadn’t heard Wicksy telling one of the students about his chickensoutside the room.
The whole day was unprofessional. As I was teaching the class, she stood at the back and slowly began to undo the buttons on her blouse. Sweat dripped down my back as she bit her lips and gradually revealed the pink flowers edging the top of her black bra. Maybe she didn’t like that I shrugged and continued explaining pasta preparation, because then she stood in my eyeline and slowly lifted her skirt. Inch by inch, she pulled the hem higher until I was gifted the image that had played in a loop since the moment Cookie floored her. Lace black hold ups highlighted the white skin of her upper thigh.
Suddenly, I was choking on my words. The class rushed to check on me and get me water. Ruby dropped her hem, winked, and then sashayed past me with a smirk.
◆◆◆
As the class finishes for the day, we wave the happy and oblivious clients goodbye. I growl in her ear, “I’m going to get you back for earlier.”
The sky is darker now, but it doesn’t have that glowing grey look that it often has before a heavy snowfall. Besides, it’s November. Snow is rare at this time of year, especially in the Cotswolds. It’s Kath’s old wives’ tales.
“Of course you are,” she replies with a teasing smile. “It’s a shame you must get home for your fun night of activities.”
I glare at her. She shivers in time with me as a gust of cold wind lifts the hem of her skirt. “Nice hold ups, by the way.”
“I thought you’d like them.”
“You wore them for my benefit?”
She grumbles, “If that keeps you hard at night, then sure, you can believe it.”
Her eyes travel down my body and back up. She’s eye fucking me as she lets her hair out of its bun before securing it into a ponytail. I grit my teeth and imagine lightly winding that ponytail around my fist as she’s bent over in front of me.
I need a cold shower. My blood has boiled all day, and the sooner I’m away from her, the better.
A second stronger gust of wind draws us quickly inside.
Wicksy and Kath are finishing up. We’re all leaving soon, which means no more time with Ruby until tomorrow when we’re decorating the school in preparation for the cooking and wreath making classes. That has to be a good thing, as she hasn’t contacted me, her brother doesn’t want us near each other, and she doesn’t want my help with baking ever again.
“Anyone fancy going for a drink?” Why did I say that?
“I will,” Wicksy replies quickly.
I fold my arms across my chest and look at Ruby.
“We all need to get home. It’s going to snow,” Kath states. “My headache is worse. It’s a sign.”
“And you have somewhere to be, remember? Isn’t that what you said this morning?” Ruby snaps.
I curse my earlier petulance. “Oh yeah.”
“Date, is it?” Wicksy leans against the countertop. “I need to learn your moves. All the women in the course love you. Another one left me a number for you.”
Ruby slams her handbag down.
“Enough of this chat. We need to go before it snows.” Kath practically shoves us out the door. I grab my stuff as we’re turfed into the car park.
“I’ll lock up,” Ruby shouts.
“Thank you,” Kath replies as she strides away. “I’ll see you all on Monday to decorate the school. I’ll be in early.”
“Aren’t we doing it tomorrow?” I fumble with my words. I want to see Ruby tomorrow.
“It’s going to snow heavily. You need to listen to me. We won’t be going anywhere tomorrow morning.” She’s in her car and reversing before we can argue. “Now get home while it’s safe.”
Wicksy leaves just as quickly. He’s more scared of Kath than he lets on. We all are.
I turn to speak to Ruby, but she’s already waving me off. “Best get to your date before you’re snowed in and away from her. They don’t grit these roads, and I’d hate for you to be late.”
I get into the van, huffing. I need to tell her that I’m not going on a date, but she isn’t bothered, and if she were, it wouldn’t matter. She’s not available, and soon, she could be working with Clive.
I recheck the weather forecast because Kath has panicked me, but it says light rain. Ruby sits in her car, looking away from me.
As I depart the car park, something niggles me. I run through all the things I saw before I left, but I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong. The sky has a weird grey glow, but it’s not going to snow.
That’s when a couple of flakes fall. But as soon as they’ve fallen, it stops again—Kath’s panic was for that?
I’m halfway home when I facepalm. Before Ruby leaves for the day, she always pulls her hair out of the elastic that’s held it up and leaves it fully down. She also didn’t lock the door or change out of her apron. Kath shoved us out the door, but Ruby said she’d stay to lock up.
She’s still intending to bake!
I roll my tongue around my mouth. I should leave her be. She’s already told me she doesn’t need my help. Besides, I can’t be around her and embarrass myself with how horny she makes me, especially after a day of teasing, but if it snows more, she won’t get out.
I want to chat with her and laugh with her. I need some joy today but can’t see Cookie because I’ve bothered her parents enough this week.
I yank my steering wheel and turn in the middle of the road. Drivers that I didn’t know were behind me beep their horns loudly.
I can’t resist the pull of her.
Her car sits in the car park, and the lights on in the cookery school glow from the windows. I should leave. She must make her own decisions. Yet I still park beside her car.