Page 7 of Love from Pretty Beach
Turning around to the cupboards, rather than get the step-stool to grab a bag of flour, Darby wobbled on her tiptoes and tried to reach a packet of Waitrose Essentials flour tucked in the back of the cupboard. Not quite being able to reach, she grabbed the wooden spoon and used it as a lever to inch the bag to the edge of the shelf. Just as it got to the right place, she went one step too far and before she could do anything, the bag of flour flew right past her and landed on the worktop. In a cloud of flour, the bottom of the bag exploded and white smoke rose everywhere. Seeing the funny side as puffs of flour smoke rose and flour covered all sorts of things, including her top, Darbylaughed out loud. ‘And this is why I am not and never will be Nigella! What was I thinking?’
Continuing on and trying to juggle the now loose-bottomed bag of flour, she giggled, tried to salvage it and scooped a measuring cup inside whilst trying to keep the bottom together. Flour was now everywhere. Chuckling as she looked into the camera, flour was all over her face, on the front of her top and behind her, the worktop under the cupboard was white.
Deciding to just carry on, she was mixing tepid water into the yeast when smoke began pouring out of the oven and the smoke alarm started to go off. The comedy side of it faded quickly and the air was decidedly blue. Darby immediately panicked about swearing on camera as she grabbed a tea towel and climbed onto the nearest chair with the intention of flicking the tea towel back and forth to get the alarm to stop. The chair was wonky, old and it wobbled. Darby wobbled. With the smoke alarm emitting an evil, piercing sound which felt as if it was ripping off her ears, Darby swore. Lola, never one to be left out of a drama, began howling in harmony from her basket by the back door.
Stretching up toward the ceiling on the wobbly chair, Darby changed tact and tried to reach the smoke detector with the wooden spoon. Swearing for England and swinging wildly in the direction of the detector, the doorbell went. She was fairly sure it wasn’t the postman because Lola had not gone ballistic.
'Just a minute.' She called out in the direction of the hallway, though her words were lost in the cacophony of smoke alarm, howling dog, and death throes of her social media career. Climbing down from the chair, she looked at herself in the oven as she made her way. Not a good look. Tutting at another knock, she opened the door with the wooden spoon still in her hand and the smoke detector wailing and frowned. The man standing on her doorstep took one look at her and took a small step backwards.
'Oh, umm, hi. Are you the old Audi down there?'
Darby narrowed her bottom inner eyelids. The man from the morning when she’d been assessing the courtyard in her dressing gown. Tall, probably a few years younger than her, thick dark hair. Very nice eyes. Tidy.Hello again.‘The what?’
‘The old Audi parked over there. The one that needs a good wash.’
Darby didn’t like his tone. ‘The navy-blue Audi?’
‘That would be the one.’
‘Yes.’
‘Look, sorry, what do you want? I'm having a bit of a situation with my smoke detector thingy if that’s not already obvious.'
'I can see, or rather, hear that.’
‘I’m in the middle of making bread at the moment.’
The man frowned. ‘What?’
The smoke alarm appeared to get louder and Lola's howling had reached operatic levels. ‘Do you need the phone number of the farmhouse?’
‘No, I need you to move your car.’ He looked at the wooden spoon in her hand. ‘Would you like some help or should I come back? We need access.'
‘You need me to move my car now? What for?’
‘The lads can’t get the vans past.’
Darby rolled her eyes. ‘I’m literally in the middle of things.’
The man pointed inside. ‘Do you want me to help?’
'If you could figure out how to make that alarm stop screaming, I'd be forever in your debt.'
As soon as he stepped in, Darby regretted it. She’d just let a stranger into her house. She didn’t know him from Adam. She was going to be murdered, bound at the hands and feet, bundled off into his boot, never to be seen again. He took in the chaos in the kitchen and headed straight for the alarm. Tall, strong, oh-so handsome. A knight in heavy-duty workman’s pants. Ding dong.Within seconds, silence fell over the house. Even Lola was in awe of the man and kept very quiet.
Darby could hear herself think again. She turned off the oven and sighed. 'Thank you. What a nightmare!'
'What happened?' The man looked at her phone propped up on a pile of books on top of a stool and frowned.
Darby brushed her face to try and rid it of the flour and heard herself garbling. 'I, well, oh, my oven is dodgy. I have my eye on a new one, but yeah, I’ve been waiting to get the pine replaced. It’s a long story.' Darby swallowed. The man appeared as if he would be quite at home in an expensive catalogue for fancy men’s outdoor clothes, all clean lines and good bone structure. She, however, was well aware that she looked like she'd been in a fight with a bakery.
The man’s tone was businesslike, 'Right, now that we've sorted out your domestic crisis, can you move your car? It's blocking the gate and we need to get through, pronto. It’s the blue Audi parked across the access gate there. The contractors need to get through to start work.'
Darby bristled. She'd been parking in the spot for five years without anyone complaining. 'Well, technically, my house has right of way on that bit there.’ Crossing her arms, she tried to ignore the fact that she was covered in flour. ‘It's on the deeds.’
'Right of way or not, we can't get a transit van through with your car there. We've got a job to start. I'm already running late for a meeting.'
Darby didn’t particularly like his dismissive tone. She could feel her hackles rising, which was ridiculous because he was absolutely gorgeous and under normal circumstances, she'd probably be falling over herself to be helpful. But there was something about his assumption that she would just immediately do as he asked, combined with the way he'd gone from helping her to somewhat irritated in the space of thirtyseconds, that rubbed her up entirely the wrong way. 'I should point out that I've been parking there for years without anyone having a problem with it.'
