Chapter 21
Very incompetent minions
Rafe
“I don’t know, Rafe. I’ve never cooked a roast in my life,” Poppy said, throwing her hands up.
“I thought you were coming over to help, you numpty,” I shot back at her as I glared at the massive beef joint that was sitting on my granite work surface.
“Brother of mine, I bring the vibes. You know this. I do not bring culinary expertise. I can’t even remember the last time I turned an oven on if I’m honest with you. Even the microwave confuses me slightly.”
“Great, we’re buggered then.”
I heard the door creak and looked over to see Clara’s face peeking around it into the kitchen and I smiled. “Hi, Clara.”
She gave me a small, tentative smile in return and a low wave.
We’d been together now for two weeks, but Clara still wasn’t happy for my family, or anyone else for that matter, knowing about us.
It was beyond frustrating to have her in my arms most nights but have to keep my distance in front of anyone else.
And right then all I wanted to do was just take her in my arms, kiss her and hug her to me.
But, as always, my sister had no such qualms about embarrassing anyone in any given situation.
“Clara, darling!” she shouted, dancing over to where Clara was standing, throwing her arms around her. “You’re always so bloody gorgeous in the morning. I’m literally green with envy.”
Clara was stiff for a moment in my sister’s arms before she hugged her back. I did catch a small eye roll as she said, “Poppy, you know perfectly well that you’re the most beautiful girl in any room, you daft article.”
My eyebrows went up. Clara was gradually getting braver.
I knew my sister had won her over and the shyness was retreating.
I suspected that deep down, Clara wasn’t actually that shy.
We still weren’t at the stage where she would tell me everything, so I couldn’t know what exactly she’d been through.
But somehow life had made Clara feel like she needed to make herself smaller, quieter, lesser than she should be.
And that shit was ending very soon if I had my way.
But the first step of the plan was to integrate her just that little bit more into my world, hence Sunday roast at my house.
Normally, we all went to Mum and Dad’s, considering it was a bloody huge country mansion and staffed twenty-four-seven.
However, I knew there was very little chance of me persuading Clara to come with us to meet my entire family.
And this way, if they came here, then she was a captive audience.
The only fly in the ointment was my inability to cook.
I’d attempted to solve this by roping in Martha, who had prepared a roast for me, including batter for Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes, a beef joint and vegetables, all of which apparently I just had to “bung in the oven.” What Martha failed to do was leave me very specific instructions on exactly which oven, what temperature and how long, or in fact how to switch the oven on. So, I was somewhat at a loss.
“Save us!” Poppy cried dramatically as she rocked Clara from side to side in a tight hug. Clara was giggling now, which I took as a very good sign. Clara’s giggles were few and far between, but they remained, other than my son’s laughter, my very favourite sound in the world.
“Help!” Poppy cried again as she pushed Clara over towards where I was standing by the granite. When she was within reach, I risked a short side hug and a very soft kiss on her temple. She flushed bright pink but didn’t actively push me away – another encouraging sign.
Clara looked at the beef joint and all the other prepared trays and then blinked. “It looks like you’ve done everything,” she said in confusion. “What do you need my help with?”
“Martha did everything,” I told her.
“We are merely her minions and, unfortunately, very incompetent minions,” said Poppy.
“Well, just turn the oven on to one-eighty, and, well, the beef will take the longest so put that in first.”
“Right,” I said, looking at the oven, then back at Clara. “Turn on the oven, you say?”
“Uh, yes.”
I scratched the back of my head. “But the problem is, I’ve got three of the blighters and zero clue which one cooks beef.”
Clara let out another small giggle. This time she even snorted, very softly, but it was there. I’d embarrass myself with my shit kitchen skills all day if it could invoke this kind of reaction.
“Well, there’s not a specific oven for beef, Rafe.” Her casual use of my first name was another step forward, especially in front of Poppy. “Most people just have one oven total. Not meat ovens and vegetable ovens.”
“Right, yes.” I paused. “As for actually switching the confounded thing on? Is there a specific...?”
Clara let out another little snort-laugh and moved to brush past me to get to the largest oven, turning it on then moving the inner trays around to make room for the beef which she put in. “We can cook the roasties in the same one.”
“What about the Yorkshire puddings?” Poppy asked. “I bloody love Yorkshire puddings. I don’t want to miss out on Yorkshire puddings.”
She smiled at Poppy. “They only take around twenty minutes, so two hours might be overkill.”
“Oh wow, I’d have bunged everything in at the same time and called the job a good ’un.”
“Right, well,” Clara said in an unsure voice after she’d turned the oven on and put the meat inside. “I’ll just get a cup of tea, and then I guess I should...” She glanced nervously at the door to the kitchen, then back at us, and then straightened her shoulders. “I guess I’ll be popping out.”
I frowned at her. “Clara, you’re not going anywhere.”
Her eyes went wide, and when she took a small step back, I realised I might have come on a bit strong. I gentled my tone when I spoke again. “I just meant, it’s Sunday, and you don’t want to traipse all around London on a Sunday. Stay and have lunch.”
She pulled her lips between her teeth to bite them as she looked between me and the roast potatoes, clearly tempted. “Um, it’s just I think I said to Lily that I, um...”
“Oh, Lily’s coming,” Poppy said, and Clara’s head jerked in her direction.
“Lily’s coming here?”
“Oh yes and she’s bringing someone called George?”
“George the goldfish?”
Poppy laughed. “Ah! That makes more sense. She said she was tired of feeding him and cleaning him out. I thought it was a bit of a bizarre intro. Anyway, it’ll be a laugh. Mum and Dad will get a kick out of her.”
“What? Your mum and dad?”
“Yeah, of course. They should be here after the wicked witch brings Ozzie back.”
“Poppy,” I said in a warning tone.
“Ugh, calm down, Rafe. Clara must know what a mega-bitch your ex is.”
“You know I try to keep it civilised for Ozzie,” I gritted out.
“Well, Oz isn’t here yet, so I can say what I like. You met her yet, Clara? As Ozzie’s teacher, I mean.”
Clara shook her head in sharp jerks. “N-no, I don’t meet the parents.”
“Oh? You met my brother though?”
“Er… well, Rafe sort of...”
“I bulldozed my way into meeting Clara,” I told Poppy.
“Standard,” she replied with an eye roll.
Clara’s smile was strained now. “Listen,” she said as she looked at me. “Rafe, I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to meet your parents or your ex-wife.”
I stepped closer to Clara, wanting to take her in my arms but very aware that she wasn’t comfortable with PDA in front of my sister.
“It’s just Sunday lunch, darling,” I said softly. At the endearment, Clara’s eyes flew wide, and she glanced at Poppy, then back at me. Poppy, always intuitive, winked at me and took this as her cue to leave.
“Oh, just remembered we don’t have any mint sauce,” she said in mock horror.
“You don’t eat mint sauce with beef,” Clara replied.
“I eat mint sauce with everything. Back soon.” Poppy skipped out of the kitchen, and we heard the front door open and shut.
I moved to Clara then and did what I had wanted to do since she poked her head around the kitchen door – took her in my arms and kissed her mouth very softly. After I was done, she blinked up at me with the look of wonder in her eyes that I didn’t think I would ever get used to seeing.
“Honestly, I really think that––”
“Mum and Dad want to meet you, darling,” I said gently as I lifted my hand to brush her hair behind her ear.
“They know what you’ve done for Ozzie, and they want to meet the amazing teacher who’s helped him.
They feel like they let Poppy down, and they’re so grateful that history’s not repeating itself with Ozzie. ”
“Yes, but it’s not—”
“Appropriate?” I cut her off with another soft kiss.
It took a few seconds, but eventually her mouth opened under mine, and she was melting against me.
When I pulled back, her eyes were glazed as she blinked up at me.
After a moment, she cleared her throat, the glazed look melting away into a frown.
“Don’t think that you can just kiss me and get your way, Rafe Sterling,” she said in an attempt at a stern tone.
I grinned down at her. “I don’t,” I said before pressing my lips to hers again. Then my mouth moved from the corner of her lips, across her delicate jawline to her ear. “I wouldn't dream of it,” I said with mock affront. “Now let me make your tea. That I can do.”