Chapter 27
Iwoke up in my bed, tangled in Eliza’s limbs, her hair tickling my shoulder and the smell of her skin making me want to bury my face in her neck and never come up for air.
Last night, we’d submerged ourselves in each other; so much so that this morning, I was still underwater, drowning in a warm Eliza sea.
My whole body ached, but it was the sweetest ache imaginable.
“Morning.” Eliza turned her head to me. We’d ended up in bed together on June’s first and last weekends. Could that almost be construed as a relationship? I shook myself and gave her a sad smile.
“Morning.”
She rubbed her eye with her knuckle. “I’m not gonna lie, I’ve had more enthusiastic greetings.”
To make up for it, I leaned in and kissed her. When I pulled back, the smile on her face was wide.
“Much better. You should have led with that.” She kissed me again, then rolled onto her back. She exhaled before she spoke, keeping her eyes to the ceiling.
“I want you to know, whatever this is between us, I’m not sorry. I know it’s complicated, but I don’t care. It’s too good to ignore.”
The fierce certainty in her voice made something flutter in my stomach. “Good,” I replied, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Because I’m not sorry either.”
I glanced around the room, half-expecting to feel that crushing presence on my chest again. Was my mother watching this? The thought should have been mortifying, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Just so you know, I’ve got things planned today.” Eliza stretched in a way that made her breasts sit up and beg for attention. “We’re nearly at the end of our initial three months, and I’ve got meetings about what might come next.”
Three months. Our working relationship had an expiration date, and it was approaching faster than I wanted to think about. After that, I wasn’t sure what might happen.
Could we try to make a go of it if we weren’t working together full-time? I wanted to ask, but I was afraid of the answers. So I did what all good Voss women had for decades before me. I swallowed my feelings and painted on a smile.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Eliza slid out of bed, all graceful limbs and golden skin. I temporarily lost the ability to form coherent thoughts.
Watching her get dressed was its own form of torture. The way she moved, the little smile she threw over her shoulder when she caught me staring. I was pretty sure she knew what she did to me.
“Stay for brunch,” I told her, having a flash of inspiration. I wanted to make the most of this moment, whatever it was. “I’ll make scones. With my gran’s proper recipe.” Now I had the quantities written down, it was easy.
Eliza paused, reaching for her jeans. “Like when we were kids?”
“The very same.” I sat up, desperate to stretch this bubble of intimacy as long as I could.
Her smile was tight, and I could see the war between duty and desire playing out across her face. “I really should—”
“An hour. Two, tops. It is Sunday, after all.”
Something in my voice — the barely concealed pleading, maybe — convinced her. “Nobody has ever made me scones before.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in my kitchen, me in shorts and T-shirt, and Eliza in one of my oversized sweatshirts that somehow looked better on her than it had ever looked on me.
The sight of her padding around my space in my clothes made my heart do crazy gymnastics.
She made us both a mug of tea while I got the rolling pin and mixing bowl, then she slid onto a stool opposite me.
“When my gran made these, I used to sit on her stool and watch, just like you’re doing. When I was old enough, she let me help.” I started to pull ingredients from cupboards.
“What’s the next project? I know you’ve had meetings with your dad over the past couple of weeks, but you haven’t divulged much.
” I chopped the butter into small cubes, then tipped flour into my large mixing bowl.
I had no idea what Eliza was up to once we were done.
Her work life was a mystery outside of Voss Watches.
“However, if you’re riding in on a white horse to help another damsel in distress, maybe I don’t want to know.”
She grinned, then moved behind me, sliding her arms around my waist, placing her mouth next to my right ear lobe. I melted back into her warmth. “No rescuing. I’m a one-damsel-at-a-time kinda woman.”
She placed gentle kisses on my neck, the vibration sending shivers through me. My fingers stopped kneading the butter and flour, as my brain short-circuited.
“It’s nothing exciting. Just boring business stuff. Another company my dad’s looking at helping.” Her hands settled on my hips possessively. “But I don’t want to waste what little time we have today talking about my dad.”
Did I catch something in her expression when I glanced back? A flicker of guilt that made my stomach clench with worry? The uncertainty screwed with my mind, but I pushed it away. Not now. Not when she was here and warm and mine, even if only temporarily.
“Where’s the baking powder?” I muttered, opening the cupboard above the microwave, then the big larder shelf. It wasn’t on the baking shelf where it should be, but I recalled Amina had baked a Victoria Sponge last weekend. She had a habit of not putting things back where they belonged.
I was still searching when I heard my gran’s voice, clear as day: “Middle shelf, behind the honey, love.”
I froze, my heart hammering. I glanced around the kitchen, but could see nothing.
“You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Concern dotted Eliza’s voice.
I reached up behind the honey and found the baking powder, my hands trembling.
“My gran used to help Katy find things in her house after she died. Katy told me, and I thought she was being kooky. Then you told me about your mum’s experience, too. I think Gran just told me where to find the baking powder.”
Eliza’s smile broadened. “I hope I’m this useful when I’m dead.” She paused. “I loved your gran. Remember we were going to set up a stall in front of Loch Cottage selling her scones?”
Our childhood dreams were so innocent.
“I remember she wasn’t like other grans,” Eliza added. “She went to work, ran her own company, which was kinda badass.”
“Badass is right,” I replied, regaining my voice. “But she was also kind, and always had time for me. There was never a problem she couldn’t solve with tea and a scone. She was far from a traditional grandmother, but her scones were the one thing she held tight.”
I resumed rubbing butter into flour, the familiar motion soothing my racing heart. When I breathed in again, I could smell my gran’s favourite lavender perfume. There was nothing lavender in this kitchen. I didn’t freak out. Rather, it made me smile.
“Scones were her thing, but she didn’t share the recipe with outsiders.
Said it was a family secret.” I smiled, thinking of her telling me this as a kid.
“It turned out, the secret was soaking the fruit, then sprinkling flaked almonds on top. I made them throughout my childhood, but I recently found the full recipe. This is the first time I’ve made them properly again. ”
“I’m glad you think I’m trustworthy enough to share it with.”
I snagged Eliza’s gaze. “Me, too.” This wasn’t just breakfast; this was me letting her into something precious, something I’d never shared with anyone else. This was me being vulnerable. Something I could never have imagined when we first met.
“Do you want to help?”
“I would love to.”
I guided her through the process, our bodies moving around each other with surprising ease.
When I needed to reach past her, she’d shift just enough, her hand brushing my back.
When she needed something, I’d hand it to her before she asked, like we’d been doing this dance for years instead of minutes.
“It’s great doing this with someone else.”
“Anyone would do?” she replied, bumping my hip.
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.” The feelings I had for Eliza sloshed inside me, but they were always at war. I changed the subject to stop them bubbling up.
“How are things with your dad and Margot?” I tried to keep my voice casual, while grabbing the cutter for the scones.
“Still going strong, as far as I know. Margot’s on a spa weekend with her girlfriends, hence Dad snagging me for work.”
Her meeting up with her dad was normal. They worked together. But the phone conversation from yesterday flicked through my head. Had that been Max? Was it about Margot? Or worse, me?
I ground my teeth and focused on the here and now.
As I cut the scones, Eliza glazed, then we put them in the hot oven.
“Make sure it’s hot, that’s the secret,” my gran always said, tapping the side of her nose.
Once the door was shut, I put a pot of coffee on, and we chatted about Roka and how well the deal was going. Pre-sales were pouring in, and she’d agreed to wear our watch in her next music video and on tour. The ad was already on her socials, and it was driving a ton of sales.
But after a while, our chat stopped. Then, Eliza pressed me against the worktop, slid a hand up my arse, and kissed me for so long, it felt like I was imprinted on the counter.
When we broke apart, her thumb traced a line down my cheek, and I stared into her eyes. It was such an intimate gesture that something inside me cracked open.
This felt real in a way that terrified me. It wasn’t just about our chemistry, it went deeper than that. She made me want to tell her about my fears, about the way I felt like I was drowning most days, but I was faking it until I made it.
The timer saved me from examining that feeling too closely. I pulled out golden, perfect scones while Eliza poured the drinks, and we ate them warm with butter and jam, sitting at my kitchen island in morning light that made everything soft and easy. Eliza closed her eyes with the first bite.
“Your gran knew what she was doing, and so does her granddaughter,” she said, licking butter from her thumb in a way that made me forget my own name.
“Thank you.”
She sipped her coffee. “You must really miss her. Your mum, too.”
“More than you can possibly imagine. But the way to keep them alive? Bake scones. And keep Voss Watches in the family.”
Eliza nodded, picked up her phone, and winced. “I really do have to go now, though.”
“I know.” I didn’t want her to. I wanted to keep her here in my kitchen forever, eating scones and looking at me like I was something worth staying for.
When she finally went to leave, we bumped straight into Amina coming home. I’d clean forgotten they hadn’t met before.
“Amina, this is Eliza,” I said, trying to sound casual and probably sounding anything but.
“Good to meet you.” Amina shook Eliza’s hand, keeping an admirable poker face. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope.”
“A-stars all the way.”
“Sorry it’s short and sweet, but I have to run.” Eliza’s gaze lingered on me. “Thank you for brunch. The scones were perfect. See you at the airport, if not before?”
After she left, I flopped onto the sofa like a deflated balloon, still able to smell her perfume on my top.
Amina settled into her armchair opposite. “How’s ‘keeping it professional’ going?”
I honked out a laugh that sounded slightly hysterical. “Absolutely acing it, as you can see.”
“What happened to ‘this won’t happen again’?”
“During the week, we’re completely professional.” I knew how ridiculous it sounded.
“And at weekends, you’re completely unprofessional? Goddit.”
“It seems that way.”
She flopped down beside me, her expression softening. “You seem to actually like this woman. Hence I want to point out that you could work together and have a relationship. Office romances happen all the time.” She tilted her head. “What am I missing? Because you look terrified.”
The concern in her voice made something in my chest loosen, and I filled her in on Sage’s visit and my mother’s warning about not trusting someone close to me. I didn’t tell her about the phone call yet. I hadn’t fully processed that.
“She might not have meant Eliza,” Amina replied. “Did she say a gender? She could have meant Max. Or maybe you just had a bad dream and Sage isn’t all she’s cracked up to be.” She paused. “And I heard an airport being mentioned? You’re going somewhere with her again?”
“To Switzerland. But it’s work, and it’s during the week.”
Amina rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.” She paused, her brow furrowed. “But are you okay, going to Switzerland? You’ve got a lot of history there. Plus, you haven’t been since your mum asked you to join the company and you told her no. Isn’t that going to stir emotions?”
I was determined to squash that particular fact very far down. I already had enough emotions brewing without adding more to the pot. “It’s going to be fine. Two days, get the job done, come home.” I was such a good liar when I wanted to be.
She shook her head, but her eyes were kind.
“How is it really? Because you look thoroughly ravaged, but also... relaxed. More so than I’ve seen you in ages.” She glanced over to the kitchen counter. “And you baked scones. You haven’t done that since your mum died, either. These are big steps. Maybe Eliza is good for you.”
How could I know? I could only trust what I felt in the moment.
When I was with her, it felt like flying.
“Our connection is off the charts. We get each other in ways I didn’t know were possible. Like she sees parts of me I didn’t even know existed. I honestly never expected this to happen, and it’s scrambled my brain.”
Amina’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, honey. This is so much more than just a shag. That’s what I said when I met Noelle.”
“It’s not that simple." But even as I said it, I knew she was right. The thought of losing Eliza made me feel physically ill.
“If her intentions are good, it might be that simple.” Amina paused. “Plus, if you’re going to Switzerland overnight, your weekend rule is about to be comprehensively destroyed.”
I groaned and pulled a cushion over my face. Despite everything my mother had tried to warn me about, despite the fear and uncertainty, I had no intention of stopping it. I was already in too deep, and the thought of stepping back felt impossible.