Page 31 of Mistaken Impression

“Yeah… this.” He puts down the apron and holds up a black t-shirt, which looks far too small for him.

“Are you supposed to wear that as well, do you think?”

“For the show, yes… but for what we’re about to do, I can’t see the point.”

I have to agree with him, and watch while he puts both items back into the bag and sets it on the countertop.

“I guess we’d better get on with unpacking everything.”

He nods his head. “Why don’t I hand you things and you can decide where you want to put them?”

“Okay.”

I’m perfectly capable of unpacking the box by myself, but at least he’s being helpful… and willing. I step aside, and he delves into the box, handing me a few jars of spices, which I put at the back of the countertop, followed by bell peppers, onions, eggplants, zucchini, green beans, tomatoes, olives, fresh herbs, and potatoes.

“Where do you want this?” he says, holding up a leg of lamb in a large plastic storage bag, with a slider seal at the top.

“What on earth is that doing in there?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. It was just sitting here in the box. Why?”

“Because I’d assumed that whoever delivered the box would have had the intelligence to put the meat into the refrigerator, rather than leaving it out here to warm up.”

His frown deepens. “Is it going to be okay?”

I reach over, rubbing my hand over its surface. “It seems fairly cold still. Can you put it away?”

“In the fridge?”

“Yes. We won’t be needing it for a while.”

He nods his head and carries the lamb over to the other side of the kitchen, to the tall refrigerator, with a deep-freeze beneath. As he opens the door, I turn back to the box, pulling out a bottle of olive oil, just as I hear him let out a slight chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

He puts the lamb inside, closing the door again. “Oh, nothing… it’s just odd seeing a fridge that’s even emptier than mine.”

I stop, absolutely still, the oil still in my hand. “A—Are you telling me there’s nothing in there?”

“Not anymore. It’s got the lamb in it now.”

I put down the olive oil and walk over, yanking the door open, to see he’s not wrong. Other than the lamb which is resting on the middle shelf, the refrigerator is completely empty.

“I can’t believe this.”

He comes and stands behind me, and I close the door again and turn to be confronted by his broad, muscular chest. He’s closer than I thought, and I take a moment to recover and look up into his bewildered eyes. “I’d expected them to supply us with a few basics. You know… milk, butter, eggs…”

“Is this going to be a problem?”

I think for a second or two, recalling what we’re going to be cooking. “Not for this morning, no. But I’ll have to speak to someone about it… and about them leaving out the meat as well.”

He nods his head. “Yeah. Especially as the studio will be a lot hotter than it is in here.”

“It will?”

“Hmm… because of the lights.”

I feel silly for not knowing that. He explained about the lights in the makeup room yesterday, so I should have remembered. Still, we’ve got bigger things to think about now, and I wander back to the countertop. Blake follows, checking inside the box.

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