Love from Scratch

Chapter Eighteen

Kevin grumbled as Hazel pinned him to her chest. She was sitting on the floor, one hand securing the cat while the other was attempting to get him to swallow his monthly worming pill.

‘I’m sorry, buddy,’ Hazel said. ‘But you hate going to the vet and we both know if I put it in your food you’ll only eat around it.’ He grumbled again, his throat vibrating against her fingers as she squeezed the pill past his teeth.

He sat stiffly in her arms.

‘Is it down?’ She peered at him and gently rubbed his throat, encouraging him to swallow. When he didn’t spit the pill out, she relaxed.

‘Okay, good.’ She released him from her vice-like grip and he instantly spat the pill onto the floorboards.

‘You sneak! I don’t know why you always do this. We’re just going to have to try again later. You’re torturing us both.’

Wiping a layer of black cat hair from her shorts, she went to the pantry.

‘Here.’ She held the treat out for Kevin. ‘Even though you don’t deserve it.’

He snatched it from her hand and scoffed it. Then, turning with a twitch of his tail, he leapt onto his cat tree and began rearranging the fur she’d so rudely disorganised.

Her phone dinged. Hazel grabbed it from the kitchen counter and dropped onto the couch with a huff.

Meredith: CHECK ETHAN’S INSTA STORIES NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!

She fumbled to open Instagram, all fingers and thumbs. She’d followed Ethan after he’d posted the photo of Kevin, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but he obviously had because the first thing she saw was a notification that Ethan James, complete with verified blue tick, had followed her back. She opened her messages to find herself tagged in Ethan’s stories. He’d posted the photo of the two of them after their run, all sweaty and windswept at the lookout, with the caption MY FAVOURITE CHEF along with tiny GIFs of a flame and a plate of spaghetti. Her phone rang.

‘You’re calling me again!’ she said to Meredith, laughing. ‘That’s twice in fourteen years!’

‘Tell me again how you’re not hanging out with Ethan James?’ Meredith asked pointedly.

‘Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s only been a couple of times.’ More like five, but who was counting.

‘The flame, though.’ Meredith sighed. ‘He totally thinks you’re hot.’

‘A flame and a plate of spaghetti. I made spaghetti for him. It’s a cooking thing, Mer, nothing else.’

‘It’s sooooo not a cooking thing, Nut,’ her friend said. ‘Look at his pretty face beaming. Right. Next. To. Yours. You look good together. You look like a thing.’

Hazel studied the photo. They did look cosy – his arm casually slung over her shoulder, her tucked into him, fitting perfectly against his side. That grin of his that used to be irritating now somehow looked one hundred per cent genuine instead of one hundred per cent movie star.

‘Hey, have you ever heard anything about him having an accident?’ she asked, wanting to distract Meredith from their very coupley appearance. ‘He’s got some scars on one leg.’

‘Somehow, that makes the guy even sexier,’ Meredith said. ‘Hang on, I’ll google it.’

‘No, no, don’t, Mer, I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘Too late. It says he had a childhood accident but doesn’t say what kind. Mysterious. I’ll see if I can find any photos.’

‘No, Meredith, don’t.’ Googling private things about him was definitely crossing a line now that they were friends. Or jogging buddies. No, they were friends. They’d said they were friends. Flirty friends, apparently. Argh!

‘Hey, I meant to tell you,’ Hazel said, still trying to distract Meredith. ‘It looks like I might have a three-day shift at a local restaurant on Main Beach. They want me to do a trial run to make sure I don’t suck.’

‘Oh, thank god. I mean, I’m sure it’s fun looking after dogs, but it’s not what you do. Violet and I thought we were going to have to stage an intervention. Did you call Molti Pesci yet? Violet told me there might be something there.’

Hazel took a breath. She’d been wondering when that would come up again.

‘Not yet.’ She had thought about it, but that was as far as she’d decided to go. ‘And I don’t need an intervention. I’m happy here.’

‘Nut—’

‘Please don’t, Mer. Not you too. For the first time in ages, I feel like me again.’

She wasn’t lying. She was bouncing out of bed instead of hunkering down under the sheets watching old Bake Off episodes, and she was cooking again, every day. She’d be back in a restaurant soon and she was actually excited about that. Hazel felt good. Really good.

‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go shower; I’ve got a day out planned.’

‘I’ll look forward to the next photo of you and Ethan.’ Meredith laughed.

Hanging up, Hazel rested her head against the cushions. She really didn’t need both her sister and Meredith nagging her. Maybe when she finally told them she’d confronted Logan Grant they’d accept that she wasn’t hiding anymore. Though that could also be why she hadn’t told them. Because once they knew, they really would start hassling her to come home.

She opened Instagram again, chewing on her lip as she looked at the photo. They were kind of cute together. She checked over her shoulder, as if worried she was being watched, then took a screenshot of the photo. Then the feed refreshed, and the two of them disappeared, replaced by a photo of a man. He was standing at a barbecue, a serious expression on his face. He could only be Ethan’s brother, Chris. She could see the resemblance. He wasn’t stunning in the way his brother was – his hair was darker and his body more lean – but he was still a head turner.

As she stared, Chris disappeared and was replaced by a photo of an older woman laughing, holding a salad bowl. Hazel guessed that she was Ethan’s mum. She was petite, with a silver-grey bob and a smile that Hazel could see her son in. This was followed by three shots of Harry, including one of him sitting in front of a heavily damaged chair, with the caption Get a dog, they said. ‘Oh Harry,’ she whispered, chuckling.

The next photo was of Ethan with his niece and nephew, gaming controllers in their hands, focusing on something she couldn’t see. He appeared casually dishevelled, dressed in a tight blue tank top and pale pink Hawaiian shorts, leaning forward with a frown of concentration, his hair sticking out at odd angles. He looked real and normal. Ridiculously good looking, but normal.

But it was the final photo that really got to Hazel – his long legs stretched out with his bare feet crossed at the ankles, propped up on the balcony railing, the moon shining on the sand out in front of him. There was something so sexy about that. Something so commonplace. She was busily zooming in on Ethan’s naked thighs when Kevin leapt onto the couch, casually stepped onto her lap and curled up.

Hazel froze, her fingers still pinched on the screen of her phone. The cat was on her lap. She blinked. THE CAT WAS ON HER LAP.

Very slowly, she turned her phone towards him and took a photo. Just as slowly, she posted the photo to her seldom-used Instagram account, which was mostly just images of food. Then she gingerly placed her phone on the edge of the couch with her arms awkwardly held out to her sides and sat there, trapped, because her indifferent cat had deemed her worthy of his attention.

One of her legs was tucked under the other, and it wasn’t long before her foot went to sleep. Her knee ached and her hip throbbed, but she didn’t move, because the cat was on her lap. Instead, she watched him breathe, his furry belly rising and falling as she winced at the pain that shot up her leg. She flipped her phone over and checked the time; she’d been sitting like that for nearly twenty minutes. She was supposed to be on her way to the hinterland. Hazel had planned a day of solo exploring to check out all the touristy shops, but with Kevin on her lap, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Eventually he stretched and yawned, revealing a mouth full of needle-like teeth. And then he cracked open his yellow eyes and breeped at her.

‘Oh! Hi,’ she said.

Kevin extended his front leg and a velvety paw lightly dabbed her cheek. She held perfectly still, his toe-beans soft on her skin. Then, as if embarrassed by what he’d just done, he sprang up and jumped down onto the rug. She touched her cheek where his paw had gently patted her, then she pulled her leg out from under her with a groan, put her foot on the rug and stamped it up and down to get the blood flowing again. She was just hobbling up the hall to the bathroom when there was a knock at the front door. Kevin ran straight to it and looked up, waiting.

‘Who is it, Kev?’ She shooed the cat out of the way and swung back the door to find a sweaty, puffing Ethan on her doorstep.

He smiled. She blinked.

‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ he said. ‘I went for a coffee, then a spontaneous run, then I was here.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘I could do with a water?’

‘Of course, come in.’ She stepped aside and Ethan brushed past her. The first thing he did was pick up the cat. Kevin affectionately headbutted Ethan’s longer than usual stubble.

‘You know he ran straight to the door when you knocked,’ Hazel said, handing Ethan a glass of iced water.

‘At least someone wants to hang out with me.’

He took a long drink. A drop of water trailed down his jaw to his neck, where it slowly trickled along the smooth skin of his throat, meeting with the sweat around the collar of his T-shirt. A deep sigh of appreciation left her lips before she could stop it. Ethan’s eyes caught hers, locking fast. Hazel looked quickly away.

‘Hey,’ she said, needing to cover her embarrassment. ‘Can you do me a favour?’

‘What do you need?’

She grabbed another worming pill. ‘I need you to hold Kevin while I get this down his throat.’ She held up the pill.

‘Easy,’ he said, shrugging.

Five minutes later, Ethan was lathered in more sweat than when he’d arrived.

‘Fucking hell, this cat can squirm. Do you do this every month?’

‘Believe it or not, it’s easier than trying to get him to the vet.’

Ethan didn’t look convinced.

‘But at least we got him to swallow it,’ she said.

Ethan grunted. ‘Sorry buddy,’ he whispered as he placed Kevin on the floor. ‘I hope you don’t hate me now.’

Hazel had to smother a laugh.

He brushed cat hair from his T-shirt then looked up, his gaze slowly drifting over Hazel’s body.

‘Did I get you out of bed?’ His voice rumbled.

‘I was up,’ she squeaked.

‘I like your pyjamas.’ He nodded. ‘And I happen to agree with them.’

She quickly folded her arms across the slogan on her pyjama top, which read, I cook as good as I look.

He smirked and leant against the kitchen island, his hands gripping its edge. His escape-artist biceps were, as usual, trying to break out of his tight T-shirt.

She stared at his thumb drifting across the laminate top, back and forth, back and forth. Heat sizzled up her neck, filling her cheeks. Oh shit. She wasn’t prepared to see Ethan, and she certainly wasn’t prepared to have him standing in front of her, possibly checking her out. Not in her kitchen, of all places. She shuffled her feet awkwardly.

He straightened up, closing the gap between them.

‘I should go,’ he said. ‘Leave you to your weekend.’ Her brain blinked back to life.

‘What did you mean before when you said at least someone wants to hang out with you?’

A ridge formed between his eyes. ‘My family all made plans for today that didn’t include me.’

‘But aren’t they here to see you?’ She frowned.

‘That’s what I thought.’ He shrugged, giving her a wistful smile.

She took a deep breath. Meredith would never let her hear the end of this.

‘I’m going for a drive up to the mountains today,’ she said. ‘That can include you, if you like.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘I’m a bit sweaty,’ he said. ‘I probably stink. Do I stink?’

‘You’re not asking me to sniff you, are you?’

A laugh burst from him, and it made Hazel laugh, too.

‘I’d love to come,’ he said. ‘If you’re sure?’

‘I am.’ She was the surest she’d been about anything in a long time. It felt good to be sure about something again. Even if it wasn’t a sensible something.

He smiled at her, and her skin erupted in tingles. So not sensible.

Ethan waited for Hazel to sit, then pushed in her chair.

‘You really don’t have to keep doing that,’ she said.

‘Yes I do,’ he said as he dropped into the seat opposite her and handed her a menu. He looked out at the view. ‘Shame the day turned out so soggy.’

When it became obvious that the sunshine from the coast was not shining in the mountains, he’d booked them a place for an early lunch. The restaurant was supposed to have a spectacular view across the valley and out to the ocean. But with bad weather closing in, all they could see was mist. Not that he cared. The view from where he was sitting was even more spectacular.

‘So much for wandering around the shops,’ Hazel said, turning from the mist-shrouded outlook with a disappointed pout. Ethan tapped her under the table with his foot.

‘We can still wander,’ he said. ‘I bet the chemist sells those disposable ponchos.’ She smiled at him, and he was suddenly very glad his family hadn’t wanted to hang out with him.

‘How’s the menu?’ he asked. ‘Does it meet with your approval?’

‘It’s okay. Pretty standard touristy stuff. I’m going to have the beef short ribs with mashed sweet potato and heirloom tomatoes.’

‘What are heirloom tomatoes?’ he asked. ‘I’ve always wondered.’

‘They’re grown from stored seeds, which can be fifty years old – or even older,’ she said. ‘And they’re farmed the old-fashioned way.’

‘So, they’re old tomatoes? Okay then. Well, I’m going to have the summer salad vegetable bowl, with new tomatoes, and I’ll pick out the cucumbers, because gross.’

‘You could always use the cucumbers on your eyes.’ She grinned.

‘Cucumbers do nothing for puffy eyes, but I do recommend under-eye patches. My make-up artist puts them on me when she’s getting me ready for set. They’re great for bags and fine lines.’

Hazel laughed, unhindered and beautiful. The sound rang through the restaurant and filled his heart with happiness. He rested his chin on his fist, waiting for her to stop.

‘Oh, sorry,’ she said. ‘You were serious.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with a bit of self-care, Hazel.’

‘I guess. But is a salad self-care? That isn’t a very exciting lunch.’

‘My abs find it exciting. They have to be shirtless most of Monday.’ He frowned as her lips quirked. ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ he said. ‘You’re the one eating fifty-year-old tomatoes.’

After lunch, Ethan went to the counter to pay. They’d argued about it, but in the end she’d let him win. He was leaning on the counter waiting for the bill when he turned to see her freeing her hair from its perpetual ponytail, the pink tips falling to the smooth skin of her shoulders. Her long legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankles, and one strap of her baggy denim overalls hung loose, the bib folded down to reveal her white tank top, which perfectly hugged her lean frame and small, pert breasts.

Ethan knew that he was free-falling, unrestrained, his heart tumbling with every moment they spent together. He blew out a soft breath, watching her inch her strap back up her arm. He had to pull it together. Even if she was interested in him – and he was fairly sure that she wasn’t – nothing could happen between them. He was moving to another country in a few months. Been there, done that, not doing it again. He scratched his chin. But, if they were both on board with it being something short-term and casual…

Fuck.

Nope. Nothing was going to happen between them.

Hazel glanced up, a smile bursting across her face as she caught his eye. She tilted her head and mouthed ‘What?’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and grinned back with a shrug, not concerned at all about being caught watching her.

After a photo with the restaurant staff, one with a family huddling under an awning, another with the woman serving in the chemist, and a gentle reminder from Hazel that he didn’t have to say yes to every photo with every person who ever walked the earth, they donned their clear plastic ponchos and dashed through the rain from store to store.

‘How many photos of you are out there do you think?’ she asked. ‘A bazillion? The internet must be wallpapered with you.’

‘Maybe this poncho will deter people.’ He shook out his hair, droplets flicking everywhere. They were standing outside a cuckoo clock shop designed like a Swiss chalet, trying to shake themselves off before stepping inside.

‘Why do you think it will deter people?’ Hazel asked.

‘Because I look ridiculous.’ He spread out his arms to prove his point.

‘Ethan, I think that poncho hits different to how you think it does,’ she said. He dropped his arms, his eyes locking on to hers.

‘What?’ she asked when he didn’t respond. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ She pushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

‘Nothing. Just… I’m glad that Cash guy didn’t work out. Really fucking glad. This may be me oversharing again, but I can’t imagine being up here on the coast without you. I’m pretty sure I’d be stressed out and miserable. But having a… friend here…’ He shrugged. ‘It’s nice to have people in my life like you and Lena. People who are utterly unimpressed by me. It keeps me grounded.’

She stared at him, biting her bottom lip. Her cheeks were pink from the dash down the street, her hair was stuck around her face and her ocean-coloured eyes were vibrant and sparkling with life. She couldn’t have looked any more beautiful, and all he wanted to do was kiss her. The rain tapped on the awning above them, as if trying to keep rhythm with his frantic heart.

‘You’re right,’ she eventually said. ‘That was a massive overshare. But you were wrong about one thing.’

‘Oh yeah?’ he asked. ‘What was that?’

‘I might be just a little impressed.’