Chapter 15

Nate tried not to imagine what was happening inside his bathroom right now. Eloise was in there. Naked, presumably, given she’d just excused herself to have a shower. Suds would be trailing down her long, lithe body. And her hair would hang even longer down her back when it was all wet.

Part of Nate—no, not that part—was still surprised he’d offered his spare room to Eloise, but really, it shouldn’t have come as such a shock. He squashed a cushion against his chest, arms crossing as he remembered the panic that enveloped him when he heard there had been an accident on Peach Street. He’d bolted from the pub, running the whole way there, forgetting his laptop and car. That had been a fun conversation to have with Eloise, but he hadn’t missed the way her eyes had softened when he explained he’d had to make sure she and Joan were safe.

He flicked the television on, channel surfing until he found a basketball game to watch-not-watch. The bathroom door opened, and footsteps padded down the hall.

“Hey,” Eloise said as she sat down on the opposite side, her legs stretching out on the chaise. She was wearing light blue lounge pants and an oversize fluffy, purple jumper that looked so cosy Nate wanted to cuddle up against it. Echo, the traitor, abandoned him and shuffled over to rest her head on Eloise’s lap.

“Feel a bit better?” he asked before kicking himself mentally. A shower wasn’t going to solve all her problems.

“I still can’t believe what happened.”

“Makes sense. How often do trees collapse on houses? Do you want a drink? I’ve got cider, water, teas …”

Eloise’s brows furrowed. “You don’t like cider.”

True. He didn’t. “But you do, hence the offer to get you one.”

“Why do you have cider if you don’t like it?”

Because he never wanted to make it easy for her to leave his house. Because he’d been craving more time with her after their impromptu dinner a few nights ago. Because buying something Eloise liked at the shops on the off chance she was at his place again had bought him more pleasure than he’d like to admit. “I just do.”

The pleased little smile on her face made the heat on his cheeks worth it. Christ. He should’ve said Teddy liked it, but there was no hiding how gone he was for this woman. This was what he’d been reduced to. Getting excited about being able to offer her a drink she liked. The thought of her naked in his shower hadn’t totally disappeared either.

Nate passed Eloise the remote, suggesting she pick something to watch as he headed into the kitchen.

“What are your thoughts on The Golden Girls?” she asked.

Nate pulled open the fridge and pulled out a cider and beer. “Like the old show?”

“Yep.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”

Her mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, and Nate smirked for a few different reasons. One: he liked surprising her. Two: well, two was self-explanatory after his visions of her in the shower.

“It’s the best. Even Charlie watches it.”

Charlie.Right. Her brother. Nate’s best friend. The guy who had made it very clear that he’d kick the ass of any guy who hurt her. Nate sighed and returned to the couch, nodding when she murmured her thanks for her drink.

“It’s not that I don’t like basketball, but …”

The teasing tone in her voice eased Nate out of his Charlie-imposed stupor. “Golden Girls is better?” he guessed.

“It’s better than everything. Joanie and I started watching when I was a teenager because she was so obsessed with those stupid air crash investigation shows, and I couldn’t handle learning any more about plane crashes. Why do you think I’ve never been on a plane? I mean, my family and planes don’t have a great history.”

Nate blinked. He knew about her grandfather’s death, but he’d been on a joy flight in a friend’s small private plane. Not a big commercial jet. “You’ve never been on a plane?”

Eloise raised her eyebrow in challenge, and this was a mistake. Having her here, in his space, taunting him with glimpses of what their future could have looked like. Nights on the couch talking about what to watch, the smell of her sweet shampoo hanging heavily in the air. Imagining how he’d distract her by leaning over, trailing his lips across her shoulder, nibbling his way towards her neck as he slipped his hands under her top. Would she melt under his touch? Offer more of herself to him? Pull him down on top of her and?—

“Earth to Nate. Hello?”

He blinked. Made sure the cushion he’d discarded earlier covered his lap. “Sorry. I spaced out for the second there.”

“We can watch basketball if you want?”

“No, no. Let’s see what these Golden Girls have got.”

And later, he’d keep channelling all his feelings into his secret writing project.

* * *

After three episodesof The Golden Girls and being informed repeatedly that he ‘was such a Rose’, Nate was surprised when Eloise asked if he’d teach her how to make bread.

“I’m too wired to sleep, and it’s my favourite thing to eat.”

Damn if happiness didn’t flood Nate’s chest and make his cheeks hurt from suppressing the big grin he wanted to give her.

“Since you’re staying here, I guess you can meet Steve.”

“Steve?” Eloise pushed her hair off her face and twisted it into a messy bun.

“He’s my secret weapon.”

“I’m so confused right now.”

Nate led her to the kitchen and opened the walk-in pantry, pulling a glass jar with a fermented mixture of water and flour in it from the back corner. Eloise’s eyes widened, and she snorted before clapping a hand to her face. Her muffled “oh my God” was fucking adorable.

“This is Steve. Full name: Steve the Sourdough Starter.”

Eloise leant forward, all serious. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on which part of Nate’s body he asked—her top gaped and he had a clear view of the top of her breasts, all nice and snug in a white bra. He snapped his gaze to the ceiling, chastising himself for being such a man.

“Steve’s the reason my bread tastes so good.”

“I think I love him,” Eloise joked. “When did you start baking your own bread? And why?”

“Back when I was playing, my diet was really strict, which was cool. There’s plenty of healthy food that’s tasty and great for fuelling your body. Most of it was made by the team nutritionists, and I had a private chef to help keep me on track, too. But it also meant there wasn’t a lot of time to cheat on my diet. Mum will tell you I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth. It’s always been savouries for me, especially bread.” He paused, pulling out the big cast-iron pots and mixing bowls he used for his loaves.

“Are you going to try to convince me that chocolate mousse made from avocado is good, Nate? Because it’s never going to happen.” Eloise sank onto a stool across the island bench, her hands wrapping around Steve.

Nate chuckled. “I’m with you on that. I started making bread because when I’m stuck or unsure of something, I like to work with my hands. It’s another reason I like to restore old furniture and paint.”

“Typing is working with your hands too, kind of. Is that why you started writing?”

Right, there was the perfect opportunity to tell her the real story, not the one he’d trotted out when they’d first discussed why he’d given it all up and moved home. But there was something about Eloise. She always managed to get him to divulge something new that he didn’t tell other people because it was too personal, too much. He liked the idea of sharing secrets with her. Being real with her.

Nate arranged the flour, oil and herbs he’d picked from his garden earlier in a neat line. “When I first moved overseas, I was overwhelmed by how different everything was. Sure, there are lots of similarities, but I felt like a fish out of water, wondering if they’d made a mistake offering a scholarship to a guy who couldn’t even figure out what the temperature was.”

A look he couldn’t decipher crossed Eloise’s face. “Do you regret it?”

“No, but it was hard to be so far away. When I boarded in high school, my family was only a phone call away, and I saw them every weekend. Suddenly, there were time zones and multiple flights and the disconnect was bigger than I expected or liked. I couldn’t keep up with what was going on in everyone’s lives at home. And I was so busy I didn’t have time to scratch myself. There was always training. Drills. Game tape. And I had a full course load as well because Mum and Dad only agreed to the scholarship if I got a degree that would give me a backup career option.” Nate moved his digital kitchen scales to the island bench and wiped his hands on a tea towel.

“Why’d you choose an English degree?”

After zeroing the scales, Nate measured the flour. “I started a movement studies one, but it was too similar. I’d always loved reading and writing, so changing gave me the opportunity to fall into fictional worlds when I needed a break. Not many people know that’s when I started writing seriously.”

When Eloise leant forward and rested her chin on her hands, Nate took a mental picture.

“Was it the Smoky Mountain Killers?”

Nate tipped another cup of flour into the big blue mixing bowl. “No. Different things. None suitable for public consumption but all important in figuring out my voice and style.”

“What was college really like?”

“Pretty similar to what you’re probably imagining.” Once he’d settled in and realised what a charmed life jocks led on campus, he’d enjoyed all the stereotypical things movies had depicted for years. Living in the football house meant there was always a party to go to and girls to charm out of their panties with his accent. He’d really leant into the whole college experience.

Nate shifted his weight from one foot to the other. But he’d quickly realised there was only one girl he wanted: Cobie Kennerson. Tall, gorgeous and lethal on the volleyball court. She’d bewitched him the first time she’d shown up at a party and goaded Nate into attempting a keg stand. Cobie didn’t take shit from anyone. She was ballsy and more overtly sexual than Nate was used to. She also refused to date footballers because she found the game boring. How anyone could not enjoy football, in all its forms, would never make sense to Nate. When they started dating, the Kennersons had welcomed him with open arms. Memories of Thanksgivings and Spring Breaks spent with them were tainted now, but at the time, they’d been his haven. His home away from home. The family life he’d missed so much. Which was what made Cobie’s betrayal so much worse.

He blinked, taking in the scene in front of him. Eloise was sniffing Steve, The Golden Girls was playing quietly in the background and Echo was stretched along the couch like Superman.

“You ready to mix this all together?” he asked Eloise.

She jumped to her feet, pushing her fuzzy sleeves up to her elbows. “You better wear the apron,” he said, passing it to her. She looped the strap over her head, and it caught on her bun.

“Here.” He reached over and freed it, his fingers sliding along her neck as he untwisted the strap. Eloise’s sharp breath grounded him in the moment. Where his past didn’t exist. Where he could pretend he wasn’t broken. That he had something to offer her. That this could be his life.

Their life.

Eloise shifted until their gazes locked together. The bright pendant lights above the bench made her skin glow even more. The scent of her vanilla and berry body wash was extra strong, and Nate wanted to bury his face in her hair. Breathe her in. Let the familiarity of her scent soothe him.

Her eyes dipped to his lips, and he couldn’t resist wetting them, teasing himself. Eloise’s mouth opened, her breath warming over his cheeks.

“Nate,” she whispered, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to lean in, taste the way his name sounded on her lips. Swallow whatever she was going to say next, encourage her to show him. Let them have this moment that would be just theirs.

“You’re not allowed to kiss me,” Eloise murmured, her eyes never leaving his.

He blinked.

“You don’t get to kiss me unless you really mean it, okay? Only if you won’t take it back.” This time her voice wavered, her gaze lowering before she finished speaking.

I’m such an asshole.

Eloise clasped the edge of the countertop. “I’m not a toy you can pick up and put down whenever it suits you.”

“That’s not …” What he was doing? Except it was. Wasn’t it? Nothing had changed. The best thing he could do for Eloise was be her friend. Nate gulped. Stared down at the bench.

“If you want me …”

Their gazes tangled again. Hers was full of uncertainty, and Nate hated, hated himself for putting it there.

“… then you have to prove it to me. Just me. Forget about everyone else. But I can’t keep doing this. The back and forth. Is this something? Isn’t it? Is it me?”

“It’s not you. I swear that sounds like a line, but it’s not. It’s me. All me,” he forced out, hoping the sincerity in his heart would transfer to his words and convince her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, turning her attention back to Steve and the big mixing bowl in front of them.

“I don’t know what to say.” Because not only was Nate an asshole, he was also a coward.

“Okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

She shrugged. “I’m going to bed. Let’s take a raincheck on the bread-making class.”

There were so many things Nate should’ve said, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Disappointment coursed through him, and he watched silently as Eloise took his apron off and hung it up on the hook inside the door of the pantry.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She patted his arm and turned towards the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could manage.

“I know,” she said without looking back.

He waited until he heard her door close to tip the oil into the mixture. Two loaves of apology sourdough coming right up.