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“What is it?”
“Bread, torn up and added towards the end of cooking.” To that, he’d added some finely grated parmesan, roughly torn basil, a glug of olive oil and some salt and pepper. So far as appearances went, it was certainly… “Rustic,” she supplied after a moment.
He grinned. “That’s putting a PR spin on it.”
She took a spoonful and made a moaning noise. “Oh my God, Nico, it’s so good.”
She immediately took another scoop, and another, and then placed her spoon down when she realised he was watching her.
“What?” Self-consciously, she wiped her fingers over her chin.
“I just didn’t anticipate how much I’d enjoy cooking for you. Nor watching you eat.”
“Don’t watch me eat,” she complained. “It’s embarrassing. You eat.”
“I will,” he picked up his spoon. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You are beautiful, always.”
She dropped her head forward, shaking it a little. She didn’t like compliments. They made her skin crawl. Another hangover from Michael’s handiwork.
“I’m impressed. The soup is really, really good.”
“I know.” It was her turn to watch. He ate several spoons full then lifted his gaze to her. “You like the cottage?”
“I love it.”
“But you’ve just rented it for the summer?”
She nodded.
“You’re not moving here?”
“No.” She stilled. Staying longer term hadn’t even occurred to her. She supposed because it felt a lot like giving up – as though by walking out on London completely she’d be handing all the power to Michael and letting him win, by shoving her right out of her life. “It’s just a break.”
“A long break.”
“Yeah. Sometimes you need to reset, right?”
He frowned. “Right.”
“Isn’t that what you do, every summer?”
“Why do you say that?”
“To come here year after year, surely that’s for a reason? To get away from the pace of your every day life and reconnect with something a bit more natural, slower in speed?”
He frowned.
“I’m just guessing,” she supplied. “I imagine your work life is pretty frenetic. Your social life too, probably.”
He lifted a brow. “You mean my love life?”
Heat infused her cheeks. ?
?I guess so.”
“The tabloids generally exaggerate all elements of my life.”
“I haven’t read anything about you,” she said immediately. “I’m just going by your…skills.”
