Chapter 17 #2
“If I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to start on the mouldy sandwich I saw in the back,” Jess said, sitting in the passenger side as Nate drove her back to her car.
Nate screwed up his nose. “Is there a mouldy sandwich back there?” He twisted his head to get a better look in the back of the borrowed car and frowned. “I’d hate to think how long that’s been there. I don’t want to be cleaning more vomit, so let’s get you fed quickly.”
“What about everyone else?” Jess asked, realising they hadn’t quite finished for the day. “At least half won’t be up to making their own dinner, but should eat something. And if Monica is out, no-one’s cooking.”
Gratitude for Nate being there when she was sick rose up in her for the second time that day. When the toast and packet soup stayed down, he’d cooked her a beautiful, simple meal of chicken and vegetables. Exactly what she’d needed to get her strength back.
“Good point,” Nate said. “I have the perfect soup recipe, if you’re up to a stop at the supermarket?”
Brilliant, kind man. She couldn’t help herself. Nate had won her over, and now, like a stupid teenager, she had a full-blown crush.
“I’m feeling up to it. I definitely need to eat something before we cook though, so I don’t eat all the ingredients before we’re done.”
“Of course,” Nate said, pulling into the Rangiora supermarket carpark. “Your stomach is my number one priority.”
Unprovoked, her thoughts instantly went to Nate’s hands on her the night they’d kissed.
Caressing her shoulders gently. Running his fingertips down her arm.
She’d wanted to yank off her pyjama top and feel his skin against hers.
To feel it burn with his touch. She bit back the urge to groan, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“All good?” Nate asked, pulling the car into a park.
She turned to look out the window, trying to hide the desire she was sure must be all over her face.
“Um, yes. Totally.” Get a grip, she told herself, shaking off the heat working its way up into her chest. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
BACK AT THE COTTAGE, Nate unpacked the groceries onto the kitchen bench and found a large soup pot and chopping board.
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” Jess said, her mouth half full of sushi roll. He loved that she didn’t seem to care about manners. He’d had them beaten into him as a kid, but around Jess he could relax.
“You sit and eat. I’ve got this.” He didn’t want her to tire herself out, and he knew this recipe inside and out.
“I can do something,” she protested. “Not onions though. You can do those.”
“You’re still recovering. And there are no onions in this one. How about being in charge of the playlist for us?”
Jess lifted her eyebrows. “You might regret that. No take backs.”
“I trust you.”
“Timeless Hits of the 80s coming up.” Jess folded her legs under her on the couch, finishing off her sushi and flicking through her playlists before filling the lounge with the Eurythmics.
Nate laughed, caught off guard. “Now, that’s a surprise. I thought you’d be into EDM or, I don’t know, whatever they play at nightclubs these days.”
“You sound like such an old man right now.”
“Says the woman playing 80s hits.”
“It’s the best.”
Nate arranged the leeks, fennel, and chicken next to the chopping board and started prepping his ingredients, chopping everything into small squares, and throwing it in the pot.
“Where did you learn this recipe, anyway?” Jess asked. “Have you memorised it?”
“I used to get really bored on set as a teen—there was a lot of waiting around—and the cook let me help if I’d finished all my schoolwork. Fennel and chicken soup was one of her favourites.”
“Such a normal teenager.” Jess smirked. “Not playing video games or skateboarding. Cooking soup on a film set.”
He pulled a face. “Us film kids aren’t known for our ‘normalness’.”
“Can’t argue with that. You’re definitely not normal.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but because you meant it to be an insult, you can help,” Nate said, smiling and handing her a bunch of thyme and a bowl.
He held his hands over hers and showed her how to separate the stalks from the leaves.
At the touch of their hands, his voice caught in his throat. “I…ah, yeah. Like that.”
Leaning over her, he could smell her lavender shampoo, tempting him to kiss the top of her head. He hesitated, his lips tingling, before stepping back to the bench.
The song shifted to Cyndi Lauper and Nate focused on the vegetables softening in the pot, giving way more attention to his stirring than needed.
“Where are you staying tonight?” Jess asked, still carefully running her fingers down the thyme stalks.
He hadn’t thought that far ahead. His expensive bed-and-breakfast had only been available for a few days, and he’d been hoping by then Tom would have something sorted for him, but with the disrupted day checking on everyone, he’d forgotten all about it.
“I don’t know, actually.”
Jess shrugged. “I mean, like Tom said, the cottage is meant for two people. If he’s thinking of shuffling the cast around, I think I’d rather have you than someone else. Better the devil you know and all that.”
He paused in his stirring. Did he want to share the cottage with Jess? It was only a few weeks, and they did get along. It was better than paying exorbitant prices somewhere else or sharing a bunk with a snorer.
“As long as you’re happy with the pull-out couch. I’m not a saint,” she added.
Nate laughed. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”
“And—” she cleared her throat, as if it was hard to say. “Just friends, okay?”
His heart sank, but he knew it was best for both of them. Anything more and they’d likely both get hurt when he left for London. His heart might not survive a holiday fling after what he’d already been through.
“Good idea. Just friends.”