Love from Scratch

Chapter Seven

Hazel checked the time again, glowering at her phone. Harry was snoring on the couch, Kevin was asleep on his cat tree, ignoring the dog as expected, and Ethan James, the never-late actor, was late. He’d said he’d pick Harry up by 6 p.m. Then he’d texted to say it would be more like seven. It was now 8.15, the movie star was still a no-show, and Hazel had transitioned from hungry to hangry. She got that it was part of the job to be at his beck and call, but she hoped this wasn’t how the next few months were going to be. She had things to do – like catch up on international week on The Great British Bake Off. Then again, what did she expect? He was probably used to people doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Her stomach rumbled.

‘That’s it,’ she said, pushing off the couch. She wasn’t going to sit around all night waiting for the movie star to honour her with his presence. She was going to make herself dinner, and this time it wouldn’t be toast.

It seemed the miracle she’d been hoping for may have finally come. That morning, her passion had been reawakened, and she was jittery with anticipation, anxious to find out if she could still work her magic in the kitchen, and if that magic still filled her with the joy it once had. She’d visited the organic market, stocked up on vegetables, fresh pasta, herbs and spices, olives, butter and cream and a loaf of crusty bread. She was going to make herself a big plate of spaghetti, just like the one she’d described in the surf that morning. She might even eat it at the table instead of in front of the TV, possibly with a serviette instead of a paper towel.

She diced two tomatoes, smiling at the sound of the knife hitting the chopping board, a familiar warmth that she vaguely remembered as pride filling her chest. As she scraped the roughly cut chunks into the pan, there was a light tap at the door.

‘Finally,’ she muttered, her eyes turning skyward. She lowered the heat on the stove and padded across the floorboards.

‘This better be your dad,’ she told the stretching Harry as she opened the door.

Ethan’s body filled the entire doorframe, and all of Hazel’s vision.

She looked him up and down before she could stop herself. He wore faded jeans and a tight white T-shirt, his clothes hugging him like a second skin.

He smiled broadly, his dimples deep.

‘Sorry, first day and I’m late.’ He leaned an arm against the doorjamb, his bicep popping as if someone had stuffed a large round gourd up his sleeve.

‘I wasn’t sure whether or not to feed Harry,’ she said, ‘so I did.’

Ethan scrunched his nose, a sheepish look replacing his smile. ‘I should have kept you across what was happening. The schedule changed because…’ He waved dismissively. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He bent and patted Harry, roughing up the dog’s fur.

‘Hey little dude. Did you have fun with Hazel today?’ The dog tip-tapped happily around his feet. ‘How’d he go? Did he behave?’ he asked her.

‘He did great,’ she said. In truth, he’d done a number on a throw pillow when she’d dashed to the market. But she had been warned and, as it was their first day together, she and Harry had agreed it would be their secret.

Ethan straightened up, his gaze drifting past Hazel into the room behind her.

‘This is nice,’ he said, stepping through the doorway.

Hazel frowned, looking from the open front door to Ethan’s broad back as he brazenly stepped into her home. Who did he think he was, inviting himself in? She slammed the door shut, watching him as he studied the small space, nodding in what she took to be appreciation. Her entire house could fit on the back deck of his place, but she adored it. It was beachy and cute and though the kitchen was small, it was perfectly functional.

He turned and smiled, hurling dimple hand grenades in her direction.

‘Where’s Kevin?’ he asked. ‘Now that I’m here I have to meet your demon cat.’

‘He’s on his cat tree, sleeping.’ As she spoke, Kevin appeared, treading softly along the back of the couch. ‘Oh, no, there he is.’ He dropped to the ground and casually strolled towards Ethan, his tail held high.

Ethan bent over, his arm outstretched.

‘He won’t let you pat him because… Oh. Um.’ Her eyes widened in surprise. Ethan was scratching the base of Kevin’s tail and the cat was enthusiastically arching into Ethan’s touch.

‘I was going to say, because he doesn’t like being touched,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him let anyone do that.’

‘Yeah?’ Ethan grinned. ‘Well, then I’m honoured.’ He kept on scratching. Hazel kept on staring.

‘Have you always been a cat person?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know that I am a cat person,’ she said, her eyes still fixed on Ethan’s fingers, mussing up Kevin’s always-perfect fur. ‘Kevin’s my first cat. Maybe that’s why he’s so weird. Have you always been a dog person?’

‘Absolutely not.’ He chuckled. ‘Harry’s my first. Maybe that’s why he’s so weird.’ He gave her a lopsided smile. ‘Kevin doesn’t like you touching him?’

‘Not unless he wants me to. Which is rarely. Basically, I think I’m his owner, but I’m pretty sure he sees our relationship the other way around.’

‘That sounds very cat.’ Ethan’s hands slid under Kevin’s sleek belly as he picked him up and nestled him in the crook of his elbow.

Hazel bit her lip. Kevin didn’t wriggle or try to escape. He didn’t even meow in protest. None of the things he would definitely do if she’d tried to give him a cuddle. When he rubbed his cheek against Ethan’s cheek, Hazel’s nostrils actually flared.

‘You’re sweet really, aren’t you, Kev?’ Ethan said.

‘No, he’s not sweet at all,’ Hazel countered. ‘This is… unusual for him.’ Who did this guy think he was, marching in there and declaring that her cat was sweet? Her cat was an arsehole.

‘Well, then I’m doubly honoured.’ He grinned, and Kevin headbutted his chin.

Hazel pressed her lips together. Even her cat swooned when this guy flashed his smile.

‘It smells amazing in here,’ Ethan said, stepping into her kitchen. ‘What are you cooking?’ He lifted Kevin to his shoulder where the cat perched happily.

Hazel had to press her knuckles to her lips to stop a pained squeak from escaping. Her cat on that man’s shoulder was both the cutest and most depressing thing she’d ever seen. Maybe Ethan was right; maybe Kevin had only been pretending to be a furry little sociopath, when really he’d just been waiting for the right moment to blossom. Or the right person. She swallowed over a sudden lump in her throat. Was she seriously getting emotional because her cat liked Ethan James more than her?

‘You can put Kevin down if you like,’ she said, trying to sound breezy and not snappy. ‘And after our conversation this morning, I thought I’d throw together some spaghetti. Nothing special.’

Ethan gently returned Kevin to the floor with one final scratch, then closed his eyes, tipped back his head and inhaled deeply. The scent of tomatoes and fresh basil filled the air. Hazel studied the curve of his throat, taking in the glimpse of taut muscle that led from his neck to his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and she quickly dropped her gaze to Kevin, who was rubbing himself against Ethan’s legs.

‘It smells special to me,’ Ethan said.

‘Thanks,’ she said, as Kevin strolled past without a glance in her direction.

She watched her cat slink across the room, jump up onto his cat tree and start to groom himself, utterly ignoring her existence as usual. Traitor. She was so busy pouting at Kevin that she hardly noticed when the words ‘You’re welcome to stay for dinner’ somehow slipped from her mouth.

She froze, her eyes darting from side to side. What had she just said? Her head snapped towards Ethan. His blue eyes were fixed on her, intense and wide.

‘Sorry,’ she said, quickly backtracking. ‘Of course you don’t want to stay.’

‘No, I’d love to. If you’re sure?’

She absolutely wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t exactly say ‘No I’m not’. Instead, she said the only thing she could. ‘Of course.’

‘I’ll go ask my driver if he can swing back in an hour or so,’ he said. ‘Will that work?’

‘Mm, yeah, um, uh-huh.’ Great, now her words were stuck in her throat.

She swayed slightly as it dawned on her that he probably went to all the best restaurants owned by the most famous chefs, and she was about to serve him up a simple spaghetti arrabbiata, the first she’d cooked in ages. Ugh. She did not need that kind of pressure.

‘This is all your fault,’ she hissed at Kevin once Ethan had ducked outside. ‘You bamboozled me by being cute and tricked me into inviting your new crush to dinner.’ Kevin just stared at her, unrepenting.

Hazel diced three extra tomatoes and tossed them into the sauce. Her stomach was bubbling along with the pan on the stove. All she’d wanted was to enjoy a little cooking again, and then relax in front of Bake Off. Absent-mindedly, she grabbed a shiny pan and checked her reflection, fussing with her hair. A horrified yelp left her lips as she realised what she was doing.

What the fuck, Hazel?

She returned the pan to its hook, missing on the first try in her fluster and clanging the metal against the splashback. It was still swinging angrily when Ethan came back.

‘Tony’s going to grab something to eat.’ He smiled and leaned against the small kitchen island, his solid arms folded over his chest. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘I don’t know. Can you grate cheese?

‘Believe it or not, I can. Show me to the grater.’

She turned back to the cooktop. ‘There’s fresh parmesan in the fridge, and a grater in that cupboard.’ She pointed with her foot.

As he shimmied behind her, Ethan leaned in over Hazel’s shoulder and took another deep whiff of the sauce. His breath tickled her neck, and the warmth of his cheek heated hers. A gentle shiver fluttered down her spine and the air around them stilled, filled only with the sound of their soft breath and the sizzling sauce in the pan. A bead of sweat trickled down her back as she groped for the oregano and sprinkled a little into the sauce. The on-edge sensation from that morning was back, buzzing like bees in her veins.

Ethan stepped away and pulled open the fridge. He grated cheese and cut a few slices of the sourdough loaf while she chopped herbs, their elbows occasionally bumping in the small space.

She tasted the sauce, nodded to herself, then threw in a pinch of salt and tasted it again.

‘May I?’ Ethan asked from behind her. She fumbled for a clean spoon, dipped it into the sauce and, without thinking, lifted it to his lips. He took the spoon into his mouth, his eyes closing softly.

‘Holy shit,’ he whispered. His eyes opened and locked on hers. ‘Is this what you described to me this morning? Because I’ve been thinking about it all day, but this is even better than I imagined.’

‘I guess I got inspired,’ she said.

He dimple-bombed her and she smiled tightly, then turned back to the stove and quietly blew out a slow breath, willing the heat building low in her gut to cool the fuck down.

To her, being in a kitchen was about more than just making food. It was a sensuous experience, and food was her love language. She adored feeding people – creating dishes that made their mouths water and their senses ignite. It was a powerful sensation, and with the right person beside her it could also be incredibly sexy. But Ethan James wasn’t the right person, and she hadn’t expected to feel this distracted while throwing together a simple spaghetti.

‘Enough salt?’ she asked, stirring the sauce so vigorously it sloshed over the edge of the pan.

‘Perfect.’ He glanced around her home, then rapped on the small kitchen island. ‘Do we do it here? Eat it, I mean,’ he hastily corrected. ‘Do we eat it here?’

Her eyes widened.

‘Ah, there’s a table on the deck, we can eat out there.’

She pulled a strand of spaghetti from the pot and blew on it before dropping it into her mouth. From the corner of her eye she caught Ethan watching her, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He abruptly looked away and began opening cupboards, asking, ‘Where are the plates?’ Then, ‘Got ’em. I’ll set the table.’ He headed outside, juggling plates and cutlery, glasses, a bottle of water and a roll of paper towels.

Hazel blinked at his disappearing back, then blinked again. She shook her head and returned to her cooking, tossing the pasta through the sauce. This was what happened when she didn’t cook for a while. All her suppressed feelings bubbled to the surface, and she needed to put a lid on them before they boiled over.

Ethan laid the table, cursing his self-sabotaging stupidity. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have accepted her invitation. He should have gone home. He was a fucking idiot. His heart had nearly leapt from his chest when she’d opened the door, her hair messy and her cheeks rosy from cooking. She was so fucking sexy. And the cooking, Christ. He’d never been a foodie. He was always too busy balancing protein and carbs, making sure his body stayed movie-ready. But watching Hazel cook made food far more interesting. The sizzling sauce, the heat from the burner, the way she’d held that spoon to his lips. He should have just gone home, worked out and ordered sushi.

Hazel stepped onto the deck, placed the large bowl of spaghetti in the centre of the table and gave it one last toss, making sure each strand was covered in the rich, red sauce.

He pulled out her chair for her. ‘Chef at the head of the table.’

She sat with a breathy ‘Thank you’, which settled somewhere in the middle of his chest. It was just dinner with his dog minder. That was all it was.

‘It’s me who should be thanking you,’ he said as he filled their glasses with water. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. No, wait, I can. I was dating Catie Strum, and she cooked for me.’

Hazel’s brows pulled into a frown.

‘She was in that spy series on Netflix,’ he explained.

Her frown deepened.

‘The tiny, gorgeous red-head?’

‘I still don’t know her,’ she said. ‘But it makes sense that she’d be tiny and gorgeous.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t gorgeous people stick together?’

‘I don’t know, you tell me?’ He grinned. She smiled tightly, but didn’t respond.

‘Anyway it was one of those box delivery services where they send you all the ingredients chopped and ready to go. That’s cheating, right?’

She stared at him blankly. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

He ladled a serving of spaghetti and sauce onto Hazel’s plate, then loaded up his own. She quickly tore off a paper towel and wiped the edges of their dishes, then sprinkled a garnish of parsley across the top.

‘It’s like you’re a professional or something,’ he said, grinning again.

‘That’s because I am.’

‘Right.’ He took a breath and twisted a strand of spaghetti around his fork. ‘Catie and I dated briefly, but she wasn’t who I wanted to be dating, so I broke it off.’

‘I’m guessing it was the risotto woman who you wanted to be dating,’ Hazel said.

Ethan frowned, confused.

‘You mentioned her in the surf this morning.’

He grimaced. ‘Sorry about that. I was all over the place this morning and I get chatty when I’m nervous.’ He quickly added, ‘It was a big day on set.’ The whole morning had been a blur of dog anxiety, boardshorts issues and awkwardness. Kind of like now. ‘But yep, it was Sera. The risotto woman. She fell for someone else, so I knew what it was like to be Catie and I knew it didn’t feel good.’

‘And there’s no chance with Sera the risotto woman?’

‘Nope. She’s in love with her best friend. He’s Harry’s vet.’

‘You’re kidding.’

He shook his head, then laughed because it really was hilarious.

‘It must be difficult taking Harry to see him,’ said Hazel, ‘when you have feelings for his girlfriend.’ She looked up, a deep crease between her dark brows. ‘I’m sorry, that was way too personal.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I’m the one who dumped my shit on you this morning. It’s okay. I’m still friends with her, and sometimes I hang out with both of them.’ He chuckled at her deepening frown. ‘Yeah, I know how sad that sounds. I’m trying not to have more than friendly feelings for her. It’s part of the reason I’ve decided to relocate to LA for a couple of years. Mostly for my career, but it’ll also give me a bit of space to…’ He shrugged. ‘Get my shit together, I guess.’ He tore a slice of bread in two and dipped it into his sauce.

‘I’m kind of looking forward to it, actually. I can put down some roots and catch up with people I never get to see. Take meetings I might otherwise miss out on. Really focus on my career. I think it’ll be a good move, both personally and professionally. A fresh start. I could do with one of those.’ It didn’t matter how many times he said it or how he phrased it, he always sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. Probably because he was.

She took a long swallow of water. ‘Do you always talk like this?’ she asked, putting her glass back down.

‘Talk like what?’

‘So openly.’

He rested his cheek on his fist. ‘Are you saying I’m an oversharer?’

She choked on her food and took another mouthful of water to wash it down.

‘Chilli caught in my throat,’ she said, a smile twitching on her lips as if she was laughing at a private joke. ‘And what I meant was, it’s unusual for guys to talk about their feelings the way you do. Particularly with someone they hardly know.’

‘Maybe it’s easier to talk to people you hardly know.’ He looked down at his plate.

The truth was, he didn’t have a lot of people he could talk to. But he still shouldn’t be dumping his baggage on Hazel.

‘I thought it might be because you’re so used to always talking about yourself,’ she said.

He glanced up. ‘You mean in interviews and stuff?’

‘I just figured it came with the career choice.’ She shrugged. ‘People must ask to hear about you all the time.’

He smiled, but he got the feeling he was being judged – and not favourably.

‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘I’m always working. But you’re welcome to tell me to shut up next time I… overshare.’ He grinned, but she frowned.

‘What about you? Are you and Eddie an item?’ he asked, keen for a topic change.

Her eyes narrowed.

‘Spill the tea, Hazel Conor. I told you mine, you tell me yours.’

Hazel was silent for a moment before saying, ‘If Eddie was a few years older, or I was a few years younger, maybe… But he’s twenty-two and I’m twenty-seven.’

‘That’s not a big age gap.’

‘Would you date a twenty-two-year-old?’

‘Possibly if I was twenty-seven. But I’m thirty-three so, no. At least not intentionally.’

‘Not intentionally? Interesting.’ Her head tilted to one side. ‘I guess that would be very movie star.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean it wouldn’t be unusual for a celebrity your age to date a twenty-two-year-old. It happens all the time.’

He humphed; he was definitely being judged. He was used to it, everyone was always judging him on some level, but not usually over dinner. Unless it was his mother. He took a swallow of water.

‘Actor,’ he corrected. ‘Not celebrity.’ He rolled his glass between his palms. ‘And maybe that’s true of other actors, but they’re not me. It would be pretty unusual for me to date someone that much younger. But hey, you can’t always help who you fall for. Sometimes it’s the person you never saw coming.’

She looked up, studying him, her teeth tugging on her bottom lip. Then she shrugged.

‘Okay,’ she said.

‘Okay,’ he said.

‘But I’m still not dating Eddie, because I think he’s too young for me.’

‘If he was older?’

‘Maybe. He’s a nice guy. I do like him, and he’s quite nice to look at.’

‘Ah-ha. Now we’re getting somewhere. So you’re into tattooed, arty types?’

Hazel looked down at her plate and wound spaghetti around her fork so many times it crept up the handle.

She lifted her eyes, narrowing them as they briefly caught his, then looked down again before saying, ‘Sadly, yes. Tattooed, dark-haired, brooding and completely disinterested in me has always been my thing.’ She shoved the spaghetti into her mouth.

Ethan took a beat, then lifted a brow. ‘So… the opposite of me, then?’ Her eyes narrowed again.

‘The complete opposite,’ she said.

He slowly nodded, his gaze glued to her lips as she sucked up the last of her spaghetti. The humid air hung heavy around him, the chorus of cicadas momentarily receding, leaving an echoing silence in its wake. When his phone rang, Ethan jumped with a whispered, ‘Shit!’

He pulled the phone from his pocket and saw Sera’s name glowing on the screen. He hesitated for a moment, his finger hovering over ‘accept’. Then he sent the call to voicemail, put his phone facedown on the table and looked back up at Hazel.

‘So, tell me about Harry’s day,’ he said.

Hazel waved as Ethan walked up the path with Harry tucked under his arm. That had not been the night she’d planned. How had she ended up making dinner for the movie star? It was Kevin’s fault for simping over the guy and scrambling her brain.

She closed the front door and stared at it for a long moment. It was nice to be cooking for someone, even if it was a little more arousing than she’d been prepared for. She hadn’t realised the joy of rediscovering cooking would be quite so stimulating. It would definitely have been better to have discovered that piece of information while on her own. But she had missed cooking and the buzz it gave her. Which probably explained the bees in her veins.

She glanced at Kevin. ‘You liked Ethan, huh?’ she said to the cat.

Her cat had never shown any interest in anyone before. Even when he was a kitten he’d steered clear of people. He was never nasty, never scratched or bit, he just lived his life in his own Keviny bubble. Until Ethan James walked through the door.

‘What is it about him?’ she asked. ‘Have you got a thing for unrealistically perfect men with neon eyes and biceps the size of watermelons?’

Kevin opened one eye a slit, then shut it again and curled into a ball. Her gaze narrowed as she glared at his sleek back, suddenly angry all over again that her cat had taken a liking to this movie star he’d known for five minutes and not her, the person who’d fed, loved and cared for him every day for three years. She scuffed miserably to the kitchen.

‘It’s a bit cliché to fall for the handsome actor guy, isn’t it? I expected better from you, Kev. I thought you were more selective.’

She stared at the house key Ethan had left for her on the kitchen counter. At least that meant she wouldn’t have to wait around for him anymore. In fact, she’d probably rarely see him, which meant no more awkward overshares. She could pick up Harry and drop him off around Ethan’s filming schedule. That would make things so much easier.

Hazel pulled on her hot pink rubber gloves with a snap, filled the sink and noisily piled the dishes into the bubbly water. She was surprised Ethan hadn’t had plans for the night. She was sure he had one of those massive circles of gorgeous friends that went boating around the Greek Islands together and posted bougie photos to their Instagram feeds. They couldn’t be more different. She’d much rather curl up with The Flavor Bible than go to a party, and she hadn’t been on a date since early man discovered fire. Her height appeared to be a turn-off for ninety-nine per cent of men.

‘And just so you know,’ she called over her shoulder to Kevin, ‘I’m not going to make a habit of inviting your new boyfriend over, so don’t get used to those pats you liked so much. In fact, you’ll probably never see him again.’ She stopped and pressed her lips together, her shoulders sagging. Pulling off her gloves, she tiptoed over to the cat.

‘Okay, sorry, that was mean. Of course you can see Ethan. I guess he’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll invite him around again just for you. I’m glad you found someone you’re comfortable with. I only wish it was me.’

Kevin looked up and held her gaze, studying her. Then he stretched, claws popping, rolled over and went back to sleep.