Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
I laughed, dropping the knob of butter on the floor instead of into the pan.
Max snorted. “Is that why your grandma used to shout at you while you were baking?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, reaching for the paper towels so I could mop it up.
“Oh, pish. If you’re not making a mess, you’re not cooking properly,” Esme said right as the potato slipped out of her hand and went shooting across the kitchen like a cannonball.
A screaming meow made me jump, and I turned just in time to see Winston’s paws hit the floor. The potato had come to rest against the wall behind him, and his claws scratched against the stone tiles as he did an about turn, skidded into the doorframe, and bolted into the hallway like there was a firework up his little kitty arse.
“Where the hell did he come from?” I asked, looking around while I stifled a laugh. “How did he get in?”
“I let him in,” Esme said brightly, turning back to the potatoes.
Oh.
Okay, then.
“Are you not going to pick that potato up?” Max asked, pointing his knife in the direction of it.
“No,” she replied, picking up another one to cut. “Are those beans done yet?”
“Who’s in charge of this? You or Ellie?”
Esme turned to me with her eyebrows raised. “Ellie is.”
I nodded, looking back at him. “Are the beans done yet?”
“This is a trap,” he muttered, grabbing a plastic bowl to sweep the diced beans into. “A bloody trap.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ELLIE
When A Man Loves A Cat
“So,” Esme said, leaning forwards. “How much for you to move in and cook for me for the rest of my life?”
Max pressed his hand against his face, covering his eyes.
I blushed, dipping my chin slightly.
“I’m not kidding,” she warned, slipping a small bit of salmon under the table to where I knew for a fact Winston was sitting in the hope that someone would do just that.
Never mind me moving in.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take Winston back to London at this rate. He was in love with Esme.
Judging by the fact his head popped up above the table from Max’s lap, he loved him, too.
Max looked down at the cat. “Hello, there.”
“Like you didn’t know that great lump of a cat was on your lap,” I muttered.
“He just hopped up.” Max scratched the back of his head, and Winston tilted his head back, closing his eyes appreciatively.
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you kicked up such a fuss about him when I first got here. Look at you. You’re practically married over there.”
“Fuss is a strong word,” Max said.
“Strong word for a strong reaction,” Esme said, getting up. She began collecting the plates and cutlery, and when I stood up to help, she shot me a look that had me sitting right back down again. “You cooked. I will clean.”
“But I—”
“Ah.” She held up a finger, cutting me off. “Do not argue with me.”
“Don’t argue with her,” Max agreed. “You won’t win.”
“She might. She’s a woman. She knows how to argue.” Esme set my plate on top of hers. “It was only a month ago you were saying that you weren’t interested in spending any time with her, yet you’re snogging her face off on a regular basis.”
Oh.
My.
God.
My cheeks burnt at her words, and almost every muscle in my body tightened. I squirmed in my seat, rubbing my heel across the top of my foot like I had a bad itch there that I couldn’t quite get rid of, but it wasn’t an itch.
It was just good old embarrassment.
“Must you be so immature?” Max asked, seemingly completely unbothered by his grandmother’s words.
How was he not embarrassed by that?
The last time I’d felt like this, my brother had walked in on me masturbating.
Not my finest moment.
Esme grinned. “Yes. I just wanted one of you to confirm it, and her cheeks just did.”
I pressed my lips together.
Oops.
“Grandma,” Max said.
“Maximillian,” she retorted. “I was just pointing out that everyone knows you’ve got a weird little thing going on, so there’s not much point in hiding it.”
“Has it occurred to you for a second that we’re not hiding it as much as we are simply keeping our private lives private?”
Esme paused.
“We’re both public figures, although I’d argue that Ellie is more commonly known than I am,” he continued. “A romance author who writes about the aristocracy being seen to be ‘dating’ a duke would be nothing short of a headache, don’t you think?”
Esme puckered her lips and tapped her thumb against the table. “I suppose I never considered that.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Max continued. “More to the point—”
“It’s nothing serious,” I said. He was just going to dilly-dally his way to the point. “We’re… Well, I suppose you could say that we’re quite good friends now, but it’s really not any deeper than that.”