Ellie Darkins - Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss

She wouldn’t push. She couldn’t force something that he didn’t feel. All she could do was make her food so irresistible that he couldn’t help but enjoy it. And her sleepless night had given her plenty of time to think about how to go about it. This morning she wouldn’t ask Will to cook. She would just surround him with delicious smells and tastes, lighten his mood and help him feel relaxed in the kitchen.

She dragged her tired body out of bed and into the shower, making plans in her head for something that would reach out and bring Will a little relief. Perhaps something with fresh fruit? That way it would introduce him to more of her garden. Or something spiced that would appeal to the nose as well as the palate?

After blasting her hair with the dryer she selected her pinkest, floweriest, summeriest dress from the wardrobe. For someone with as much red hair as she had it was not an obvious choice of colour, but she was going to exude sunshine and pleasure today. Will had been in her house a day, and seemed even less happy than he had when he’d arrived. She couldn’t allow herself to take a step back; if she was going to make this work she had to throw everything she could at it.

She hunted frantically for ingredients, looking for inspiration in the walk-in fridge, grabbing fruit and butter, eggs and milk. She whipped and beat and whisked and folded, and every time she slid another tray into the oven she reached for a mixing bowl again. The familiar actions chased last night’s shadows out of the kitchen and she breathed more easily as she saw the results of her work piling up on the countertops. This would work. This had to work. There had to be something here that would get through to him.

She threw the switch on her food mixer, adjusted the oven temperature, turned cakes out onto racks. A simple sponge, shortbread, scones, pizza bases. She found spiced cream, home-made jams and fresh berries. Perfect for building layers of flavours.

She picked at the fruit and munched on biscuits as she went. With her recent late nights, and the stress of a student who didn’t want to learn, she was asking for a migraine. Lucky for her, keeping her blood sugar up and cooking out her stress were the best ways to fend one off.

And when at last the huge container of flour was empty she leaned back against the counter and surveyed her work. Spoons, spatulas and whisks were stacked up by the sink. Her supply of mixing bowls was exhausted and every inch of counter space was covered with the evidence or the fruits of her labour.

Some of it she barely remembered making. She hadn’t been thinking. She’d just let her hands and her heart take over her body.

She thought of Will’s fingers stroking the screen of his phone, hammering on his laptop last night, and couldn’t help but recognise the similarities. She’d reached for comfort this morning, as she’d seen him do.

There was more food here than she and Will could eat in a month, never mind a week. It could go in the freezer once it cooled, she thought, mentally flicking through her diary for the next couple of weeks. She had a couple of afternoon teas booked that the cakes and biscuits would be perfect for.

She glanced at the clock. It was gone ten o’clock already and she’d seen no sign of Will yet. Oh, well, he wouldn’t be the first hardened workaholic to succumb to the effects of country air. She’d plan for elevenses and if there was no sign of him by then she’d knock on his door, just to make sure everything was okay. Unless he’s not in his room, she thought to herself, and her spoon dropped to the counter with a clatter.

What if he had left already? Decided that whatever she was trying to teach him wasn’t worth sticking around for?

A stab of pain slid through her belly as memories of being just not good enough surfaced. Weekends spent in an empty house because her parents had had more important things to do, or long summer holidays spent at school because she wasn’t wanted at home. She’d thought that those feelings were long gone. Until she’d met Will Thomas she’d not thought of those times for years, but now... He had rejected her once. It would be so easy for him to do it again.

The hollow feeling of fear curled in her stomach and she rushed to the front door, relieved to see Will’s car still parked on the drive. He was still here. That had to count for something. She still had a chance.

She couldn’t quite rationalise her relief, given how frustrating yesterday had been. But, however difficult it was proving to be, she needed to help him. She couldn’t look at someone in pain, someone who needed help, and simply do nothing. And then there was the spark that she’d felt between them when he’d bandaged her finger. The tender concern he’d shown her. The way that he’d started to pull her close before getting spooked. The fact that he’d pushed her away almost immediately should have been enough to tell her that she would have been better off if he’d gone.

‘Everything all right?’ Will appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in grey trousers and another crisp white shirt, phone in hand.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Maya said, not wanting him to guess what she’d been thinking. ‘I thought I heard the doorbell.’

She gestured widely with her arm towards the front door from where she stood at the bottom of the stairs. Turning her body towards him, she rested her hands on her hips and smiled up at him.

‘Did the country air knock you out?’

‘No, no. I’ve been up for a while. I was going to come and find you, actually,’ Will said.

He was looking for her? Warmth spread through her body at that thought, chasing away the cold she’d felt a second ago when she’d thought he might have left. She was so overwhelmed with relief that he hadn’t walked away, hadn’t rejected her as she’d thought, that she didn’t step back from the stairs as he descended. Even when he reached the bottom and was standing just a few inches away. Instead she enjoyed the feeling of being close to him, the way the air between them almost hummed. Like yesterday, those few good moments in a sea of disaster, when he’d shown such concern for the little cut on her finger.

The memory of the cold that had followed as he’d walked away was not, apparently, enough to make her body stop wanting him.

‘You were?’

‘Yes, my battery’s about to die and I’ve forgotten my charger.’ He poked at the screen of his phone and then gave a long sigh. ‘I have a conference call in ten minutes. I don’t suppose there’s a spare one around here anywhere?’

Maya gulped, trying not to show her anger. He was working. He’d probably been up at the crack of dawn, as she had. But whereas she’d spent hours in the kitchen, trying to figure out how they were going to make this experiment of theirs work, he’d been happily ensconced in his room, getting on with business as normal. He hadn’t even bothered to tell her what he was doing that morning. He’d just got on with his day without giving her a single thought.

Maya felt a chill sink through her as the implications hit home. She had spent all morning trying to make his day better in a small way, even if all she had to offer him was cake. She knew that it couldn’t possibly fix his pain. But she’d tried. She’d thrown everything at helping him the only way she knew how. And he’d not thought of her at all. He couldn’t have made it any clearer how little she, her food or her time meant to him.

She took a step back as her shoulders slumped, and her arms came across her body, protecting her from further blows.

‘That’s not a problem, is it?’ Will ran a hand through his hair and it came to rest of the back of his neck.

Maya picked up on the tension in his body, the sharper edge to his voice. He’d sensed he’d upset her, she guessed, and was looking for an escape route.