Chapter Twenty-Five
Ashleigh – Tilgate Road, Brighton
Spending time with Olivier was starting to get really addictive. After they’d put up all the tacks, he’d cleared the big kitchen table for her to work on, while he experimented with tempering some chocolate and pouring it into a new mould he’d specially designed. They put music on in the background and both disappeared into their projects. She loved the companionable silence. She loved being able to flick a glance up when she finished cutting something out and see him, with a look of concentration on his face, or – even better – catch him watching her too. A couple of hours flew by until Olivier asked her if she wanted to stay for dinner.
Ashleigh couldn’t help but agree. It made sense because they needed to sneak back out between her nan getting home and the lights being switched on, but also…something was really happening between them. She was so sure that earlier on, when they’d been lying in a ridiculous heap beneath the coat rack, he was thinking about kissing her. She had certainly been thinking about kissinghim.
But then, when wasn’t she?
While he was rooting about in the massive fridge, she texted her nan to tell her she’d be having dinner with Olivier and got a reply back saying no problem, she was almost home and going straight to bed anyway as she still wasn’t feeling one hundred per cent.
That was perfect. Not that her nan wasn’t feeling well obviously, but that she’d probably be tucked up asleep before they even went out to hook the lights up.
‘Can I help you with anything?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m just doing a ratatouille – it’s quick to prepare and then it will just bubble away for a while.’ He popped the cork on a bottle of rosé and passed her a glass.
She supposed it was quick to prepare if you were a chef. She sipped her wine and watched him slicing courgettes and peppers and tomatoes at lightning speed, the knife flashing in his long fingers. Within minutes of it going on the stove in a big pot, the kitchen smelt divine, full of the fragrances of onions and tomatoes, basil and oregano and probably lots of things she didn’t even know the name of.
‘Doesn’t it normally go in the oven?’ she asked as he gave it a quick stir and sat down opposite her.
He raised his eyebrows at her and she blushed. ‘Sorry. I just questioned the chef about how to cook something didn’t I? I’m going to blame the wine. I know nothing about cooking.’
‘Then you’re curious…and you watched the film with the rat?’ His eyes crinkled at the corners.
‘Busted.’
‘It’s a good film. And yes, often we do cook it in the oven – but this way is the traditional way.’
‘It smells delicious. I don’t usually look forward to eating something, but my mouth is watering.’
He took a sip of his drink. ‘Why don’t you look forward to eating?’
‘I guess because I can’t cook. And Nan, bless her, she tried to accommodate me being vegetarian but she’s very traditional when it comes to meals herself – in the English way. Y’know, meat and two veg?’
‘Oh. I thought that meant something else.’ He gave her a cheeky smile, his eyes twinkling.
Ashleigh laughed and felt her cheeks flame. ‘Oh God, yeah, it can do. Anyway, when I eat, it’s just fuel really. Between my nan just omitting the meat part of the meals and my mum…’
‘Your mum?’ he repeated to prompt her, and she had to smile at him saying ‘mum’ – it sounded so strange in his accent.
She waved her hand to try and dismiss it. ‘Well, she’s an actress isn’t she, so dieting is a big deal and whenever I did want to enjoy something, like a big ice-cream, she’d horrify me with tales of fat and cholesterol and how I should be looking after my figure. That my young metabolism wouldn’t last forever.’ In truth it had always sounded more like she was wishing it upon Ashleigh, rather than trying to warn her.
Olivier rubbed his mouth, frowning a little. It was odd to see such a serious look on his face.
‘Ashleigh, this is awful,’ he finally pronounced.
She had to laugh. ‘I think that might be overstating it.’
‘Non. Foodisfuel, and it is important to put good fuel in our bodies but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy it and treat ourselves. It’s amazing really, the pleasure we can conjure by stimulating the thousands of tiny taste buds on our tongues.’
Warmth prickled downwards from Ashleigh’s stomach. Talking to her about tongues and stimulating and pleasure. It was enough to make a nun throw off her habit.
He smiled. ‘Oh, and of course, I mustn’t forget our sense of smell.’ He reached forward and touched the tip of her nose softly.
She swallowed. He did seem to be touching her more often. Not just those standard greeting kisses on the cheek but holding hands and rubbing her feet dry on the beach. Pressing her close as she dissolved into giggles earlier. It felt like they were all building up to something more.
The hand he’d used to boop her nose was resting close to her on the table now. She could just reach forward and put hers over the top of it. Stroke across his knuckles—
