Chapter Eight
Hazel awoke to her phone buzzing furiously on her bedside table. She rolled over and snatched it up, glaring at the intrusion. There were five text messages from Meredith, each one shoutier than the last.
Meredith: OMG. Ethan’s Insta!
Meredith: Nut! Why are you still asleep? Look at his insta and call me!
Meredith: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WAKE UP!
Meredith: You’re driving me crazy. Are you ignoring me?
Meredith: LOOK AT ETHAN’S INSTAGRAM STORIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hazel pushed herself up in bed, opened Instagram, searched for Ethan’s profile and checked his stories. The first photo was of the back of his chair on set with his name emblazoned across it and the caption ‘It’s on!’ The next was of a dog: ‘Zoe!’. When she saw the next photo, her jaw dropped. It was Ethan with his cheek pressed against Kevin. Her Kevin. Her cat. The caption read: ‘New bestie’. Hazel’s first reaction was Aww. Her next reaction was When did he take that? And then… Fucking Kevin!
She didn’t even have a photo of Kevin like that. She slumped in her bed, her anger returning as a pout. She supposed she should be happy that Kevin was happy, even if it wasn’t with her. She looked at the photo again, allowing a tiny smile to lift on her lips. It was kind of adorable the way Ethan and her cat cuddled into each other.
Another text from Meredith.
Meredith: I’m starting to worry! Do I need to actually call you?
Hazel chuckled. Meredith hated phone calls. It was text messages or a pre-arranged FaceTime or nothing. A phone call to Meredith was like an uninvited drop-in.
Hazel: It’s an hour earlier here. I was sleeping!
Meredith: Shit. Forgot. Did you look?
Hazel: Yes.
Meredith: Yes? WHEN did he meet Kevin?
Hazel winced. Mer’s next message was going to be in all caps for sure.
Hazel: Last night when he picked up Harry… and stayed for dinner.
Her phone rang. ‘You’re calling me?’ Hazel said, laughing.
‘You cooked for him?’ Meredith screeched.
‘I was cooking for me, so technically, no.’
‘But you cooked.’
‘I cooked.’
‘Nut! YOU COOKED!’
‘I COOKED!’
Meredith knew Hazel hadn’t been cooking, and how hard that had been for her.
‘How was it?’ Meredith asked. ‘I know what making food for a man does to you.’
‘For a man I like,’ she corrected.
‘You don’t like him? Your cat sure does. Obviously, Kevin has good taste.’
‘Hey! Are you saying I’m bad taste?’
Meredith cackled. ‘I don’t know why you put up with that cat.’
‘Don’t pick on Kevin. He loves in his own way.’
‘Which is not at all. Unless you’re Ethan James. They do say animals can sense a person’s character in a way we can’t. Maybe Kevin senses that Ethan is a good guy.’
‘Are you saying my cat senses that I’m not good?’
‘Of course not!’ They were both laughing.
Hazel kicked away her bed covers. ‘Well, this has been a delight, but I have to go pick up Harry.’
‘You didn’t tell me how it felt cooking for Ethan. Was it hot and fiery? Sizzling and delicious? Were your loins flambéed?’
‘Stop it!’ Hazel’s hand went to her mouth to smother a giggle. ‘I’m going! Let’s organise another FaceTime.’
‘Wait, before you go… How big is your kitchen counter?’ Meredith cackled.
‘Oh my god. Remind me to never tell you anything ever again. Goodbye!’ She hung up with Meredith still laughing.
Tapping on Instagram, she looked at the photo of Ethan and Kevin once more, then took a screen shot and saved it to her phone.
Ethan sat perched in the make-up chair while Ava, the make-up artist, touched up the bags under his eyes.
‘Didn’t you sleep last night?’ she asked. ‘You’re so puffy.’
He grimaced. ‘I had a massive plate of spaghetti last night. I had to get up super early to work it off.’
‘Haven’t you got a shirtless scene today? I’ve got you down for body make-up after lunch.’
‘Don’t worry, the rest of me isn’t puffy.’ He laughed. What a conversation. His life was ridiculous.
‘I’ll get some ice,’ she said.
He stared at his reflection. He did look tired, unsurprisingly – he’d slept like shit. He’d tossed and turned half the night thinking about his conversation with Hazel. About Sera and dating and Eddie, and the fact that Hazel obviously saw him as some shallow celebrity type. He hoped he’d managed to show her that he wasn’t. Though did it really matter? They didn’t have to be friends. That’s why he’d left her a key, so she could come and go without him having to see her. That was the best way to handle his attraction to her. To ignore it. He had enough going on.
Ethan chewed on the inside of his cheek and pulled his phone from his pocket. He should probably just message her to thank her for such a great meal. He did kind of crash her evening. Then no further contact, unless it was Harry related.
He quickly typed out a text message.
Ethan: Just wanted to say thanks for dinner last night. Though apparently I’m puffy from all the carbs.
He stared at the words, rolled his eyes, deleted the entire message and started again.
Ethan: Thanks for dinner last night. I’d offer to cook next time but
With a drawn-out groan he deleted that, too. His finger tapped the screen as he thought.
Ethan: Can you check I locked the door to the rooftop garden when you pick up Harry? Also, thanks for dinner last night.
He read the message back, and with a nod and a grunt hit send. ‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered, then tossed his phone onto the make-up counter, shut his eyes, and waited for his icepack.
There was a loud click as Hazel unlocked the door to Ethan’s house. She slowly nudged it open with an unsure, ‘Hello?’
Harry looked up from the couch, yawned and jumped onto the floor, tip-tapping over to her.
‘You’re not much of a guard dog, huh?’ She closed the door and bent to ruffle his fur.
In the kitchen she hung her backpack on a chair, marvelling as she looked around the impressive space. It was Michelin-star magnificent, and obviously created by someone who loved to cook. She eyed the kitchen island, her breath catching, just as it had the first time she’d seen it. Her hand gently rested on its surface, and she smiled at the coolness beneath her touch.
‘Hello beautiful,’ she said, her fingers skimming back and forth across the black marble. ‘I could really put this to good use, Harry.’ Her lips quirked as her heartbeat kicked up a notch.
She moved to the brand-new cooktop and matching oven and gazed at them longingly, chewing on her bottom lip as she stroked the sheen of stainless steel and jet-black glass. They were top of the range, sparkling and spotless.
‘You’re so pretty,’ she told the cooktop, then tenderly rubbed the glass with the edge of her T-shirt to clean off the smudge her hand had left.
She grasped the handle to the oven door, its silky metal shape fitting perfectly in her fingers, and pulled, the door silently sliding open. Crouching down, she peered inside and a soft moan left her lips.
‘I don’t think this has ever been used. What a crime.’ She straightened up again, a little dizzy.
‘Has your dad even stepped foot in this kitchen, Harry?’ she asked the dog. She found herself picturing it. Ethan, wearing an apron and stirring risotto at the beautiful cooktop. She gulped.
In the industrial-sized fridge she found two six packs of beer, a carton of almond milk, two bottles of water, three bananas and half an avocado. Closing the door, she shook her head and sighed.
‘Well, that’s just sad.’ She looked at Harry, who’d crawled back onto the couch and yawned as he stared back at her.
‘Your human asked me to check the door to the rooftop garden.’ She repeated, ‘Rooftop garden’ with a roll of her eyes. Then, in a posh voice, she said, ‘So I’m going to the upper level of your mansion.’
Hazel jogged up the pale timber staircase and along the hallway. Her feet came to an abrupt halt outside the master bedroom, the soles of her sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor. The door was wide open, and the soft scent of Ethan’s aftershave hung in the air. She lingered for a moment, peering around the door, battling indecision. She looked left and right and over her shoulder to the stairs below before her curiosity got the better of her. She stepped through the door.
‘Wow.’ The word came out on a long breath.
A wall of windows looked out over a ribbon of white sand and the ocean stretching in every direction. A king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room, the thick white doona roughly pulled back over the mattress, and pillows piled high against a grey quilted headboard. The bed looked soft and comfy and long enough to accommodate Hazel’s lengthy legs, and it took everything she had not to sit on its edge and bounce. On the bedside table was a remote for a TV she couldn’t see, and nestled beside it was a book, face down and open. She shuffled forward to see what Ethan was reading, her eyebrows lifting at the title: Good Human, Good Dog: Tips for the Nervous Owner. Ethan was nervous of Harry? The terrier was the least terrifying dog she’d ever met.
Stepping further into the room, she shuffled around a yoga mat laid out in front of the sliding doors, with a medicine ball in the middle of it and a pair of runners cast off to the side. Her bedroom, bathroom and at least part of her lounge room would probably fit in this one room alone. But even though it was huge and everything was pale colours, clean lines and glass, it appeared lived in, with what she considered a normal amount of mess. There were three T-shirts tossed over the arm of a pale-blue chair, and an empty beer bottle rested atop the glass fencing on the balcony. Other than the sheer size, it looked like a normal bedroom. Not all perfect like Ethan, which surprised her.
She tutted at herself for skulking around the movie star’s bedroom and made her way back to the hall, but as she did, a glint of white caught her eye. She turned towards the master ensuite and stuck her head inside. Her gaze fell on the enormous bathtub.
‘Oh. My. God.’
The sunlight streaming in through the windows bounced off the smooth white enamel. She walked straight up to it and ran her hand over its glossy surface. It was breathtaking, shiny and deep, and long enough even for her. She hadn’t had a bath in years because she never fitted in them. She’d fit in Ethan’s bathtub, though. Even Ethan would fit in Ethan’s bathtub. They’d probably both fit in there together…
When she spotted a pair of his black boxer briefs hanging out of the washing hamper, she slapped a hand across her eyes. What was she doing? She walked out of the bathroom and found the door to the rooftop, which was already closed and locked. Huffing, she jogged back down the stairs.
‘Come on buddy,’ she said to Harry as she grabbed her backpack. She clipped a leash to his collar.
‘Are you ready for the park? Then when we’re done I think I might do some baking. If you’re lucky, you might get to lick the bowl.’
‘Harry?’ Ethan called as he stepped through the front door. It was nice to be home in time to catch the last light of the day, go for a swim and take his dog for a run. Harry scurried towards his owner, all sliding feet and wagging tail.
‘How are you doing, little dude?’ He scooped the dog into his arms. ‘Did you have a good day with Hazel? Do you like her? I like her,’ he said, then muttered, ‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’
He’d tried not to, but he’d been thinking about her all day – about how good it was to talk to her, how comfortable he’d felt, and how he could convince her that he wasn’t the superficial dickhead she seemed to think he was. It would be nice if she liked him at least a little. Most people liked him. Except maybe his family.
Not that they didn’t like him exactly, he just didn’t think they understood him. Ethan’s family had decided he lived in a different world to theirs – out every night at glamorous parties, dating ten different women at once. Every Hollywood cliché he wasn’t. His mum had never been able to accept that he would give up a good education and prestigious career in law for a life of ‘make believe’, as she liked to call it. Ethan had been due to start a law degree when he was ‘discovered’ jogging on the beach. He instantly ditched the uni plans and jumped at a job on TV. His mother went ballistic and, in hindsight, he probably should have discussed the decision with his parents first. But he’d never really been interested in law. He only went along with the idea to make everyone happy and in the hope that it might bring him closer to his brother, Chris. Maybe if they were both solicitors, they’d have something in common.
Ethan tossed his bag by the base of the stairs, strode across the room and folded back the glass doors to the pool.
‘What do you think, Harry? Swim first or run first?’ Scratching the dog’s head, he popped him onto the floor and headed for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
Two Tupperware containers were perched on the end of the kitchen island.
‘What’s this?’ he asked as he wiggled a note out from underneath one of them.
I baked today. Limoncello muffins. All organic. I thought you might like some, seeing as you have NOTHING in your fridge. I looked, sorry. I also baked dog biscuits for Harry (fit for human consumption, too, in case you want to try one). I know you’re used to people feeding you, butif you do decide to get some groceries, which you really should because you should be using your breathtaking kitchen, there’s a local farmers’ market on Saturdays. Google it and go and buy some food.
Hazel.
P.S. You’d already locked the door.
He winced at her comment about the door, then laughed at the not-so-subtle shade her note cast. He put the paper aside and peeled back the lid of one of the containers. A zesty waft of lemon filled his senses. His mouth instantly watered and he broke off a chunk of muffin and popped it into his mouth.
‘Oh my god,’ Ethan moaned. His tastebuds burst to life, the muffin practically melting on his tongue. He took a larger bite, crumbs tumbling down his chin and the front of his T-shirt. ‘Wow.’ He looked down at Harry. ‘Sorry bud,’ he murmured around his chewing. He opened the second container and handed Harry a homemade dog biscuit in the shape of a bone. Harry crunched it eagerly.
Ethan dropped into a chair, taking another huge bite. If Hazel kept cooking for him, he was going to get fat. Not that he was complaining about her cooking for him. He dusted crumbs from his stubble, pulled out his phone and took a photo of the crumbs on the countertop, then sent it to Hazel.
Ethan: I didn’t like it. Kidding Best muffin ever. Harry loved his biscuit, too. Thank you.
He smiled as three dots appeared at the bottom of his screen, then laughed at Hazel’s reply.
Hazel: You’re welcome, movie star.