Chapter 2
IZZI
Izzi was standing outside Cameron’s back door at seven o’clock sharp.
Usually, she wouldn’t have dreamed of arriving empty-handed, but short of offering to curl his hair, or feed him some of the mouth-watering biscuits she had in her suitcase, she didn’t have much else to offer and she suspected he’d turn both down.
She knocked on the glass and tried to see inside, but a thick grey blind had been pulled down, which meant there was little chance of catching him unawares – she’d have liked a preview of what he looked like without the bundle of winter clothes.
She heard a bark and took a step back, wondering if Cupcake had remembered his lesson from last night. She might ask Maud if she had a recipe for dog treats – it wouldn’t hurt to have something on hand to help make friends with him.
The door swung open, and Izzi took a moment to catch her breath.
A surly Cameron Buchanan wearing a thick coat was one thing, but a Cameron dressed in jeans and a royal blue Henley sweater that hugged his wide chest was quite another.
She felt her heartbeat thump hard as she stared up into his face, noticing his short waves of thick sandy brown hair.
It was damp and tousled, which suggested he’d just taken a shower, or perhaps he’d been pumping iron in the recesses of his house.
She had a sudden unexpected image of him sweaty and half-naked and gulped.
‘Do you want to come in?’ he asked, frowning down at her, stepping aside and nudging the dog – who was still staring at her suspiciously – out of the way. ‘I haven’t started breakfast, but there’s coffee.’
Izzi followed him into a wide hallway, painted in a muted green colour and with a downy cream carpet runner and abstract art on the walls. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting from this man, but it hadn’t been anything this charming or put-together.
‘Are you an interior designer?’ she asked as she shoved off her shoes, noticing his feet were bare. She hung her coat on a hook by the door but decided to keep her scarf on and snuggled her chin into the fleecy material.
Cameron snorted as he disappeared into a room at the far end of the hallway.
Izzi followed and halted at the entrance because the kitchen was something out of Ideal Home.
It had a high, vaulted ceiling which let in tons of light, tall shaker-style dark blue cupboards which looked expensive, black granite counters and a matching breakfast bar piled with multicoloured pumpkins.
The smooth tiled floor was a rusty orange colour that made her think of the autumn leaves outside.
She pressed her feet into it as she looked around and almost groaned at its delicious warmth.
There were pot plants everywhere, on shelves, hanging from the ceiling and on the floor which gave the whole room a lush and wild vibe. It smelled good too, like a fresh autumn breeze. She stood staring at the space for a full minute before Cameron cleared his throat.
‘Do you need a minute? You’re drooling,’ he said, his voice matter-of-fact.
‘I’m sorry, after last night I was half expecting you to lead me into a dungeon complete with a spiked cabinet, thumb screws and a rack,’ she admitted. When he didn’t so much as smile, she added, ‘You know, so you could torture my references out of me.’
He gave her a considered nod. ‘I’m hoping it won’t come to that,’ he said seriously. ‘Do you take your coffee black or white? I’m afraid it’s instant. I have bread and eggs. How are you at scrambled?’
‘Instant’s fine.’ She decided not to mention the fancy coffee machine sitting on the counter which looked pristine, probably because some of its parts were still wrapped in packaging.
‘White please, just a dash and I’m good.
I could whip us up some French toast to go with the eggs if you’ve got the ingredients.
’ She couldn’t wait to get her hands on this kitchen, could already imagine the scent of baking filling the air.
‘I’ve got fresh bread.’ He reached into a cupboard and got out two dark blue Le Creuset mugs before adding coffee powder and milk and pouring water in them too.
He slid one towards her. ‘To answer your earlier question, I’m a builder and I have my own company,’ he said.
‘And for about a year I was working with an interior designer. She was my business partner – we merged our services eleven months ago to offer more to clients. She was very good at what she did. This was her work,’ his voice had dropped about ten degrees in temperature.
‘You don’t like it, or you don’t like her?’ Izzi guessed, picking up the mug and wrapping her hands around it, closing her eyes gratefully as it warmed her skin.
Cameron’s shoulders tensed, and for a moment she was sure he wasn’t going to tell her.
He took a quick sip of his drink and shrugged.
‘She ran out on me recently, just as we were about to make our partnership official, which would have involved her investing in the business.’ He shook his head.
‘Left without a word and took—’ His jaw flexed.
‘Let’s just say it wasn’t the best of endings. ’
So that explained the suspicious questions. Had they dated, and was there more to this than work? Izzi wanted to ask, but there was no easy way of doing it without appearing nosy – or inordinately interested in his sex life. Which embarrassingly, she was.
‘You’re not from around here.’ When he frowned, she added, ‘I mean, I can hear American in your accent. I just wondered where you’ve lived before?
’ Making conversation was usually easy for her, but there was something about the way Cameron was looking at her that made her wonder if she was doing it wrong.
His mouth pinched. ‘I’m from New York. But my father was originally from here. He went in search of the American dream when he was in his twenties, found it. When he passed away eight years ago, I decided to visit my grandma and never left.’
‘Maud, I’m not surprised.’ She nodded, smiling. ‘I like her.’
‘Yes, well, everyone does,’ he said as if it were a flaw.
‘You look familiar. Why is that?’ he asked, taking a seat on one of the squashy, velvet bar stools that flanked the breakfast bar before studying her through narrowed eyes.
‘I didn’t notice it last night, but there’s something about your eyes.
’ His forehead creased as he scoured her face.
Her heart jumped. ‘If we’d met, I think I’d remember. Do you know who I remind you of?’ She held her breath.
His frown deepened as his gaze grew more intense. ‘Nope,’ he said eventually, sounding frustrated.
‘Maybe I just have one of those faces,’ Izzi said briskly because she didn’t want to give herself away. Her mystery relative had asked her to keep their connection to herself and she didn’t want to go against their wishes. Even if the need for secrets made no sense.
Cameron’s mouth pinched. ‘I suppose.’
Izzi knew she was considered pretty – with her long, chocolate brown hair, amber irises and heart-shaped mouth that often garnered attention.
But there was something about his comment that made her think about the letter that was sitting in her handbag in the cabin.
The one she’d found addressed to her in her aunt’s things.
There was something that made her wonder what she could ask Cameron without triggering more suspicion.
‘Mmmmm.’ He sucked in a breath and watched as she slowly made her way over to the hob.
‘Oh my God, is this a La Cornue?’ she gasped, feeling her pulse notch up as she stroked the smooth top of the perfect stainless steel hob on the range cooker reverently.
‘I’ve heard about these. This is just – oh my God – so gorgeous,’ her voice trembled and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.
‘Are you okay, do you need to lie down?’ he asked dryly.
Dazed, Izzi knelt so she could open one of the oven doors and frowned when she saw the inside shelves were still shiny and wrapped in their original packaging.
It even smelled new – like it had just been delivered.
‘Haven’t you used it yet?’ she squeaked, standing and turning to stare at him accusingly. ‘How long have you had it?’
‘Eight months,’ Cameron muttered. ‘I’ve done soup on the hob, and there’s a microwave.’ He wagged a hand towards the other side of the kitchen.
She shut her eyes. ‘No wonder your grandmother wanted to stage an intervention,’ she muttered. ‘This is one of the most expensive range cookers in the world. It’s like the Ferrari of stoves. I can’t believe you haven’t—’ She shook her head as words failed her.
‘I didn’t choose it; it was just part of the design,’ he grumbled. ‘And I don’t really cook.’
‘I’ll consider it an act of mercy to teach you how.
’ Izzi sighed and turned around – she was pleased to see Cameron had already gathered the eggs, butter, milk, pan and plates.
There was a loaf of crusty bread too, and a knife with a board.
She could smell the tantalising scent of the fresh loaf as she cut a couple of large chunks and her stomach grumbled.
She set to work cracking the eggs as the silence stretched to breaking point.
‘What made you decide to come to Honey Haven?’ he suddenly asked as Izzi popped the bread into the toaster and began to stir the eggs, still marvelling at the perfection of the stove. She breathed in the warm, savoury aroma of the food as it began to cook.
‘Oh, well.’ Izzi paused. She couldn’t tell him the whole truth, so decided on a halfway house.
‘My aunt died and left her house and bakery to the local cat home.’ She let that settle between them, hoping when she turned, Cameron wouldn’t offer sympathy.
‘Which essentially meant I was jobless and homeless in one fell swoop. I’ve got a potential job lined up in a bakery after Christmas, but I needed a change of scene in the meantime, so I decided to come here. ’
‘So you, what? Stuck a pin in a map and just happened to come up with Honey Haven?’ he asked, his voice betraying his thoughts on that. In truth, she didn’t blame him. Especially since she’d known exactly where she was going.
Izzi shrugged, wishing she could tell him her secret. It would be so much easier all round. But she couldn’t, so she’d have to settle for what she could share. ‘I like to think of it as fate,’ she said.
‘Right. Your aunt – she preferred cats to people?’ he abruptly changed the subject.
The toast popped up and she took a moment to grab it and put it on the two plates before carefully adding the eggs, wishing she’d had more time to fancy them up.
When she turned, Cameron was staring at her, clearly waiting for her answer.
‘Pretty much,’ she said flatly. ‘My aunt Regina took me in when my mother died suddenly of a heart attack. I was twelve. She gave me a roof over my head and eventually a job. But she resented it. I was nothing but a burden to her.’ The older woman’s words rang in her head, bitter and angry, and Izzi mentally batted them away.
Izzi hadn’t let Regina Beaumont get to her in all the years they’d lived together and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.
‘Just before she died, she told me she’d done all she could and it was time I took care of myself.
I convinced myself it was a good time to make a new start. ’
Cameron pulled shiny knives and forks from a drawer and put them on the counter, before he sliced through his toast and took a bite, chewing slowly.
Izzi slid onto the velvety seat opposite and watched.
She wanted to see what Cameron thought of the food before tucking in herself.
She could smell the toast and eggs and her mouth watered as he swallowed and nodded approvingly.
‘I’m surprised you’re not angrier about that. Being left with nothing I mean,’ he said in a way that made her think he definitely would be.
She tugged her fleecy scarf around her shoulders as she made herself comfortable. ‘I’ve always considered negative emotions a waste of my time. Things I can’t change, I don’t. Things I can, I do. Aunt Regina took me in, trained me in a career I’m good at—’
‘But she didn’t give you love. Or a place you felt safe. And when she died, she left you effectively destitute,’ he shot back bluntly. ‘Yet you hold no resentment towards her.’ It wasn’t a question, but it was accurate, so accurate that Izzi cleared her throat.
His eyes narrowed again. They were darker now and just as intense and Izzi couldn’t help but wonder how they’d look if he actually laughed. ‘Seems to me, Izzi Beaumont, that you might just be a little too good to be true,’ he rumbled.
She gave him a half-smile as she picked up her knife and fork. ‘I don’t know. You haven’t heard me sing and you’ve never played me at cards. You should know I can’t hold a tune, and I always cheat because I like to win.’ She was teasing, but Cameron regarded her seriously.
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ he sighed before shaking his head. ‘I’ll check those details if you give me the name of the bakery. Maybe give me a couple of numbers of your colleagues too. Although, if the place is shut, they could be anyone…’
Izzi nodded because he was right. ‘I’ll write it all down.’
‘The eggs are good.’ He sighed as if the compliment cost him.
‘Better than mine.’ His blue eyes fluttered up to meet hers and she felt the punch of them right through to her toes.
‘If your story checks out, we’ll give this arrangement a week.
’ He paused. ‘But you need to know, if you hide anything from me or my grandma, if I get even the smallest sense that you’re not telling me the whole truth, then you’ll need to leave. ’
Izzi gulped thinking about the letter. ‘Sounds perfect,’ she said brightly, and offered Cameron her hand.