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)
“A pig-headed bastard? I can’t say you’re wrong.” I finished working on the eggs and stopped. “Oh, bollocks to it. I can’t focus on anything.”
“You did an all right job with that egg.”
“Oh, you know what I mean.” I held out the jug.
Esme looked at me. “What? It’s not my fault you’re in love with my grandson.”
I almost dropped the jug.
“Goodness, child, mind those butterfingers. That’s a Pyrex jug, you know. They’re frightfully expensive.”
“Esme!” I put the jug down next to her bowl and stepped back. “You can’t just throw an accusation like that at a woman!”
“I think you’ll find that I can and I did.” She glanced at the jug. “Can I trust you to pour that gently into this dry mix or are you going to dump it in?”
“I—I’m not in love with Max!”
“That took you far too long to deny, my dear.”
“I’m not in love with him.”
“Bollocks. You are. That’s why you’re here.”
“I am not in love with Max!” I said, slamming the fork on the counter.
Esme calmly picked up the jug and poured a small amount of the egg mix into her bowl where she used her spoon to fold it in. “Fine. You’re not in love with Max. That’s why you’re here in my kitchen, asking about him, helping me bake an apple pie.”
Balls.
“Maybe I like apple pies and you,” I replied, skirting around her to take the bowl and spoon from her so she didn’t have to do the laborious job of mixing.
“That didn’t sound like a denial to me.”
“I’m playing politician. I’m not answering questions.”
“I didn’t ask you a question.”
I paused.
Shit.
“I should have known you were trouble when you showed up with that bloody goat on a leash on my first day,” I said, gently folding the egg into the dry mixture until it started to resemble a golden dough. “I didn’t come here for this nonsense, Esme.”
“I know that, but I thought I’d try my luck anyway.”
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” I grumbled, working the pastry mix through until the spoon no longer cut it and I had to put it aside. “You should have bought a lottery ticket.”
“I’m not giving those charlatans my money. I’d rather buy books.” She put down the empty jug and motioned for me to move to the side. “Now, get back to those apples while I roll out this pastry. You’re lollygagging, dear.”
I picked up the peeler and looked at her. “Esme… You won’t say anything, will you?”
“Will I tell Max how you feel? No.” She lifted the ball of dough and sprinkled flour across the countertop. “Your relationship is none of my business.”
“You drew me here purely to talk me into admitting how I feel about him. Forgive me if I don’t believe you on that one.”
She pushed the rolling pin over the dough and looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. “You’re too smart for your own good, Ellie.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“Oh, it is.” Esme continued rolling it out, this time without looking at me. “But I mean it. I shan’t get involved in whatever the two of you are or are not doing.”
I set the peeled apple down and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Unless I absolutely have to, of course.”
There it was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ELLIE
The Apple of My Pie
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
I was walking up to Greygarth House with a bloody apple pie and homemade custard, and I was as nervous as I’d ever been.
Three days.
It didn’t seem like a long time, but there was something to be said for this situation. I’d spoken to Max almost daily for the past several weeks since I’d come here, and it was weird not to do that.
Especially now that we were so close.
And I…
Was in love with him.
Esme had been right, though. I didn’t know what to say to him. He’d opened up to me in such a deep way, and I’d spent the last three days trying to figure out the best way to reach out to him.
I didn’t want to push him to speak to me until he was ready, but it seemed as though my good intentions had a similarly negative result.
He probably didn’t know how to reach out, either. I couldn’t blame him for that. It happened sometimes—even people with the best communication skills sometimes found themselves without words.
That was how I ended up with this bloody pie.
Hey, when all else failed, food was a great equaliser.
I walked up the thick stone steps in front of the door and paused. The heavy mahogany doors were beautiful, and the panelling drew my attention for a moment, and I traced each line of the door with my eyes.
“No,” I heard Max say from inside. “You can’t hide here. I know what you’re doing. I swear you’re part human.”