Tash hobbled around the bench and crouched in front of the oven door to inspect the contents. Satisfied her cake was rising nicely, she levered herself back up using the edge of the sink and set to cleaning up the mess she’d made.
She was wiping the last of the flour from the bench when Patrick tapped at the sliding door. One hand was hidden behind his back and the corner of his gorgeous mouth was tilted in a suspiciously naughty grin. His entry brought a blast of cold, but Tash barely noticed. The love and heat in his expression were enough to melt an ice cap.
‘Hey, beautiful.’
‘Hey, yourself.’ Her gaze drifted teasingly over his body. In those thigh-fitting jeans and that sexy blue jumper she could stare at him forever. She could do anything with him forever.
Patrick lifted an eyebrow. ‘Enjoying yourself? I can start stripping if you want a closer inspection.’
‘Tempting, but maybe later.’ She slanted him another look as she continued wiping. He practically radiated smugness. Definitely up to something, but these days that was normal. It was as if Patrick still felt the need to make things up to her when he had no need. Tash had forgiven him completely the morning he came to the hospital. ‘Want to share what you’re hiding?’
‘Not yet.’ He crossed to kiss her, keeping whatever he held behind his back. From the rustle, it was a plastic bag of some sort. There was a clinky rattle too, perhaps from ice. Interesting. ‘You taste like chocolate.’
‘Mmm, and you taste like beer.’
He pressed his forehead to hers. ‘Just one at the club. Clip reckons I still owe him another two hundred for using him as an excuse. How’s your ankle?’
‘Itchy.’
A wicked sparkle came to his eye. ‘I know a way to take your mind off it.’
Tash glanced ruefully at her cake, then at the timer. Still thirty-five minutes to go. ‘After?’
‘After, before. Anytime, babe.’
She smiled and rinsed out the sponge and set it on the sink, determined not to give in and try to snatch his present from his hand, even though the urge itched more than the skin beneath her horrid cast. Patrick watched, clearly enjoying her anticipation.
‘How was Warrnambool?’ she asked.
After much nagging on Patrick’s part, he’d finally convinced his dad to at least consider a new pasture drill. Now they were doing the rounds of the machinery distributors to check out the various models. Tash suspected it was more an excuse to go on a road trip together. Patrick’s easygoing company was in demand these days, and not just from his dad. The footy crew, the mates that had drifted away after Maddy’s accident, they all wanted a piece of him, and no wonder. He was a different man. A gorgeous, happy man.
‘Good. Managed to do a bit of shopping while I was there.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Yeah. Happened to stumble across a fish market.’ He held up the bag, his face split in a grin. ‘Fresh mussels. You can kiss me thanks now.’
Tash squealed and clapped her hands in glee. ‘Let me see, let me see!’ She snatched at the bag but Patrick jerked it out of reach and leaned towards her, comically puckering his lips.
‘Kiss first.’
She obliged, draping her arms around his neck and pressing hard against him in the way she knew tangled his brain. ‘Can I have my mussels now?’
‘I think the question should be: Can you take me to bed now?’
‘Bed? No, no. Mussels.’ She grappled the arm holding the bag. ‘Gimme!’
He shook his head, expression wry. ‘Sometimes, beautiful, I think you love food more than me.’
Tash tapped a finger against her bottom lip, considering. ‘No, although I admit it’d be a close-run thing if you brought me black truffles.’
With a martyred sigh, Patrick handed over his present and settled onto a stool while Tash inspected her goodies.
‘They look lovely. Thank you.’
‘Worth it to see you smile.’
Their stares lingered, a dozen emotions throbbing between them. Attraction, understanding, gratitude, security, passion and so much more. The weeks since Tash’s accident had been full of moments like these, and each time he filled her a little bit more with his love. Some days she felt in danger of overflowing with it. Tash knew Patrick felt the same because he kept telling her.
He broke the moment with a smile and indicated the seafood. ‘What are you going to make with them?’
Tash blinked, still slightly breathless from the intensity of what they shared, then frowned. ‘Some sort of chowder perhaps? Or maybe Normandy-style, with leeks, cider and cream? Not sure. I’ll have to think about it.’ She emptied the mussels into a colander and began picking at their beards.
The flat was soon cosy with their banter and news from the day. Tash adored the homeliness of these times, when the flat was warm and thick with their contentment. Though Patrick hadn’t officially moved in, they hadn’t spent a night apart since she’d been discharged from hospital. A part of her was disappointed there’d been no further mention of marriage and their long-term future together, but the rest of her was glad he was letting their relationship take its course. Patrick wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Tash. They had all the time in the world for the official stuff. What mattered was that they were together.
Together and perfect.
With mobility limited thanks to her ankle, Tash had been staying close to home, working on her cookbook and the website shop with Thom. Though she didn’t have any products for sale yet, the shop design was at least complete. Things were definitely moving ahead, in more ways than one.
Earlier that day, Thom had given up his lunch hour for a chat about a few minor tweaks, but their conversation had drifted quickly onto his slowly flowering romance with Ceci.
In the dramatic days after Patrick’s Melbourne stopover, Thom had revealed his true feelings in a passionate venting of emotion that had ended up with Ceci calling him every kind of fool before kissing him speechless. As for the rest Tash could only guess, and while it was early days, Thom had never sounded happier and even Ceci sounded optimistic that the relationship might last.
Tash couldn’t have been more thrilled for her friends. Their long friendship meant they had more of a head start than most people. Both were also well aware of the other’s faults, but admired and loved the positives too much to let them interfere. Ceci remained wary of what might happen if it didn’t work out but Tash was proud of her for taking the chance. She knew as well as Ceci how much courage it took to set your feelings free. Passion was important, but it was the emotional connection of a relationship that made it endure.
When the cake was done and inverted on a rack to cool, and the mussels stowed in the fridge, Tash hobbled over to Patrick and let him hoist her onto his lap. Cradled in his strong arms, she rested her head against his shoulder.
‘You’re being very quiet,’ he said after a while. ‘What’s up?’
‘Promise you won’t get mad?’
‘Uh oh. I know that tone.’ He bent to look at her face and grimaced. ‘Shit, you didn’t?’
Tash bit her lip and tried to look apologetic. Patrick had made no secret of his anger at Thom but these were her friends, and she wanted to invite them to stay. Besides, she wasn’t going to give them up over a silly misunderstanding and jealousy. ‘I did.’
‘When?’
‘Weekend after next.’
Patrick’s was silent for a while, then he sighed. ‘Can I punch him? Just once. A little tap to make me feel better.’
Knowing he wasn’t serious, Tash poked his ribs. ‘No, you can’t.’
‘But I want to.’
She laughed at his cute fake sulk. ‘Too bad. Anyway, you said yourself it was your fault, not Thom’s.’
‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a thump for putting ideas into your head.’
Tash sobered. ‘They were my ideas, you know that.’
If she’d had more confidence in herself Tash would never have believed for a second that Patrick or Ceci could have betrayed her. She never would have made that humiliating video—now thankfully deleted—or spent an afternoon indulging in a pity party on the far side of the swamp when she knew damn well bad weather was coming. And she sure wouldn’t have broken her rotten ankle and had to put up with the torment of plaster. Fortunately, it was due for removal the next day and she’d be able to hobble around with a strap instead.
Tash cuddled further into Patrick’s arms. Sometimes she wanted to be so close she wished she could burrow beneath his skin. ‘I should have believed in you.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I should have believed in myself.’
‘Hey,’ he said, kissing her hair. ‘It’s okay. Main thing is you do now.’
‘I do.’ Tash toyed with the zip at the neck of his jumper. ‘So you’re not mad about Ceci and Thom coming?’
‘I could never be mad at you, beautiful girl. I love you.’
‘Show me?’
‘Always,’ he said, easing her around to kiss her properly. ‘Always.’