Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“You could chop up and fry some onions while I peel the potatoes?” It comes out like a question.
Stepping up to the sink, James washes his hands. Such a simple, routine task and yet I can’t stop staring as he lathers the soap between his fingers. I think I’m being inconspicuous with my ogling until, suddenly, his wet hands dart to my face.
They’re freezing as he runs his palms down my cheeks, making me gasp. “You arsehole!” I yell in shock, my laughter betraying the annoyance I want to feel.
“It’s water, not acid. Stop overreacting.”
I adore his playful side and it always seems to appear when I least expect it. My nerves slip away with every word we exchange and by the time dinner is almost ready, I’m completely at ease with him being here.
“Wait, what are you…” James watches with a curious eye as I start opening a tin of baked beans. “You’re putting beans in it?”
Grinning, I tip the contents of the tin into the mince. “Just trust me.”
He looks unsure but doesn’t argue. “So why did Tess call me David? Do you bring a lot of men up here?”
The smile I’m wearing evaporates immediately. “What? No!” Silently, I curse myself for being unable to prevent the blush invading my cheeks. “Obviously when we first, um, met, I didn’t know your name. I described you as a younger looking David Gandy, and it kind of stuck. With Tess anyway.”
I’m too embarrassed to look at him but I imagine he’s smirking. “David Gandy, eh? I’m flattered.”
“I don’t see it so much anymore. Now, you just look like James. But because Tess is an arsehole intent on humiliating me, I doubt she’ll ever use your real name again.”
“Well, it is my middle name so she won’t be entirely incorrect.”
“You’re kidding? Your name is James David Holden?”
“According to my bank statements.”
Another box checked. “It’s ready.” I’m relieved to be able to utter those words and deflect from the whole David Gandy scenario.
“You’re not grilling it?”
My nose scrunches. “I don’t like crusty mash. I will if you prefer, though.”
James raises his hands. “Nope. Fluffy mash sounds good to me.”
I’ve made shepherd’s pie a thousand times, but as I plate up I can’t stop hoping it tastes okay. The kitchen is tiny and I can reach the counter holding our plates and the fridge behind me without taking a step. Pulling out the grated cheese, I sprinkle some on Tess’ mash before asking James if he wants some too.
“Please,” he says, nodding. He watches me scatter some onto his food and then raises an eyebrow when I return the pack to the fridge. “You don’t like cheese?”
“Can’t stand it, unless it’s on pizza. I like pizza.”
“And cheese and onion pie,” Tess cuts in, joining us in the kitchen.
“That’s not proper cheese,” I argue.
“Well it’s not fucking plastic.”
Tutting, I grab her plate, shoving it into her chest. “Eat,” I say. If her mouth is full, she can’t bloody talk.
She struts away, laughing, and I realise I don’t have anywhere for James to sit. He must’ve noticed my lack of sofa when he arrived but, still, it leaves me feeling awkward. “I, um, I don’t have much furniture yet,” I all but whisper.
Shrugging, James takes his plate, walks the few steps over to where Tess is sitting and joins her on the floor. The sight of them together makes me smile. Despite my embarrassment about living in an unfurnished box, I like him being here.
“You gonna treat us to cutlery or what, T?”
If she didn’t have her back to me I’d flip her the middle finger. Lazy bitch.
Plucking three forks from the drawer, I make my way over to them, then pause and turn back to fetch some knives. James is a formal kind of man. I imagine he uses knives.
Sitting down, I pass out the cutlery and, true to form, Tess makes a snarky remark. “Knives too, eh? I didn’t realise you were royalty, David.”
Laughing, James starts tucking in using only his fork. I don’t know if that’s how he’d normally eat, or if it’s a result of Tess’ comment. More to the point, I don’t know why I’m obsessing over fucking cutlery.
“I’m sure Theodore thinks I’m posher than I actually am,” James teases, offering me a sideward glance.
Tess snorts, presumably at the use of my full name.
“But I grew up in a terraced house in Wythenshawe. My father’s company didn’t hit the big leagues until I was in college.”
I can’t take my eyes off his face, enthralled by everything he has to say, every layer he peels away from his guarded heart. He fascinates me.
“I went to a regular school, ate fish finger butties for tea, worked in a transport office when I dropped out of college after a couple of months…”
Wow. And here’s me thinking he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. I feel like a bit of a judgemental dick now.
“I’m just a regular guy,” he tacks on, shrugging. “And on another note, this tastes amazing.”
My lips twist into a proud smile. “It’s the baked beans.”
“I’ll be sure to try it out. Where did you learn to cook?”
“My grandma. I used to stay with her a lot during the school holidays when I was little. She made everything from scratch. Meals, bread, cakes…I used to love watching her.”
“If I ever get a chance to meet her, I must say thank you.” He shovels his last forkful of food into his mouth.
“You’ll have your work cut out,” Tess pipes up. “Unless you can communicate with the dead.”
“Damn, I’m sorry,” James splutters.
I shoot Tess what must be the twentieth death glare of the night before focusing on James. “Don’t be,” I assure him. “It was seven years ago now. Lung cancer.”
He nods slowly, his expression apologetic. An awkward silence follows, broken by Tess licking her plate. It makes James smile and, in turn, so do I.
“Are your grandparents still alive?” I ask, gaining confidence in asking him questions. Surprisingly, he seems more comfortable answering them, too.