Page 10 of All Mine
Etienne’s phone buzzed as he jogged back from the gym. A text from Mile End Mickey, the chef, asking for fresh dill. Etienne pocketed the phone and detoured to the farm shop on the high street.
As he browsed the shelves and selected a bunch of the freshest herbs, his phone vibrated again, this time with a notification from one of his dating apps, telling him he’d matched with several women. Now, that could be important. He scrolled quickly through their profiles, making a mental note to look at them in more detail when he got home. But something more interesting caught his eye as he recognised the new restaurateur, Isabella, browsing the olive oil shelf beside him. She was lost in thought, holding two different bottles in her hands, comparing the labels on the back of each.
‘Hi?’ he said and she started. Shock flickered lightly across her face and then the hint of a blush as she recognised him.
‘Hi,’ she replied.
‘How’s it going? Any more floods?’
She laughed.
‘Not so far, thanks to you. I must pop your wrench back over to you– and your top!’
That messy bun, those eyes. The image of her with her T-shirt as see-through as if she were wrapped in cling film flashed through his mind. He grinned. He’d relish the thought of unwrapping that dish.
‘Shopping for supplies?’ he asked, and she nodded.
‘I can’t seem to find my normal brand of Italian olive oil.’ She weighed the two bottles in her hands. ‘So I’m trying to figure out which of these is best.’
‘There are testers round the corner on the counter,’ he said, thumbing over his shoulder. ‘I’ll show you.’ He took her by the elbow to lead the way. She smelled softly of lemons, fresh and light.
The sample table was laden with a dozen small bowls of oil arranged around a basket of bread. Colours ranged from almost clear to golden syrup, and some had additional infusions such as chilli or garlic.
‘Great range in this shop,’ Isabella said.
‘Here are the Italian ones,’ Etienne said, indicating two bowls on the back row.
Isabella peered at them both, then lifted the edge of the bowls to see the way the oil moved. He watched her face, intense with concentration, and noticed a small beauty spot beside her mouth as she pursed her lips in consideration.
‘Here,’ he said, offering her the bread basket. ‘Try them.’
She lifted a finger of bread and held it in the first bowl for a few seconds, letting the oil soak in before taking a bite. She chewed and nodded at him, before doing the same with the second one.
‘What do you think?’ he said.
‘Both good,’ she admitted.
‘So, which one do you prefer?’ he asked.
‘In Italy, the consistency is just as important as the taste,’ she said. ‘We do the skin test to see how fast it absorbs.’
He cocked his head, intrigued.
‘Never heard of that!’
‘The only problem is, I have hand cream on, so it won’t work.’ She held her two palms up to him as if in defeat, but then grinned as if with a flash of inspiration. ‘But I could use yours?’
‘My hands?’ Etienne said, surprised.
‘Just for a moment,’ she said and took his hands in hers, holding them flat at waist height, palms down. ‘If you don’t mind?’
‘You know me, happy to help.’ Etienne wasn’t sure what he was helping her with, but was happy to go along with it, her small, smooth hands supporting his.
‘Good, you’re not too hot or too cold. . .’ she said, almost to herself, surveying the backs of his hands.
‘And you don’t have any cream on?’ She looked up at him under black eyelashes. He shook his head, and she nodded in return. ‘Perfect. Now, keep them flat.’
She carefully held the first bowl above his left hand and tilted it just enough to let a drop escape and fall on his skin. She repeated the procedure with the second bowl onto his right hand. The two drops glistened against his tanned skin, perfect beads of oil. She took his hands in hers again, letting his palms rest on her palms, leaving her thumbs free to smooth the oil into his skin. Her movements were rhythmic and gentle. He liked the intensity on her face as she watched how the oil sank into his skin. He didn’t mind this type of experiment at all.
