Page 15 of Always There For You

Larsen chuckled. “Good cause me and plants are like oil and water. Always ends badly.”

Yep, she instantly liked him. Upfront without being too forthright, friendly and laid-back. It helped that he was wearing the kind of clothes she personally gravitated toward; comfortable but funky, full of color and patterns. His boots were heeled and embroidered in burnt orange and crimson, and Larsen was wearing a matching orange jacket. His dark red shirt, black jeans, and layers of silver necklaces were exactly right. “Good thing you have killer fashion sense, makes up for the plant murder,” she joked. Larsen laughed and it brightened his dark brown eyes. “So, checking out the space again?”

Larsen’s smile grew. “Thanks. Usually the colors get some looks but I like them and that’s all that matters. And yeah, I’m getting the wine bar set up for the big opening night. Amelia and I mocked up a plan, but I gotta touch things to get them all settled out in my mind. If that makes sense.”

Larsen navigated through the snaking line of two and four seater bistro tables, the ones Hadley had helped Amelia pick out before she arrived in Breakwater. As he began to work behind the bar, Hadley saw how confidently he moved, how serious he took the work. Amelia had, again, chosen well. She just had a knack for knowing people and where they’d best perform or how to make good use of their talents. An idea hit her, one that had her stomach tumbling with excitement. Amelia deserved someone who could take care of her, and Hadley wanted to show her all the ways she could be good to her.

“Hey so wine,” Hadley said as she went over to the big curved bar and plonked down on a stool. She dropped her voice as Larsen looked up at her. “Let’s say I know nothing about it. But I want to learn. Where do I start?”

“I love newbies.” Larsen pulled two bottles off the floor to ceiling rack behind the bar and set them down. “Let’s start with some easy stuff.”

When Amelia walked into the cottage with grocery bags over her shoulder, she was greeted by an enthusiastic Mr. Buttons wearing a dark turquoise vest. “Look at you,” she crooned, shifting the bags off her arm and to the floor. Mr. Buttons gave her a headbutt and several soft meows. “I see you got new clothes. You look great, sir.”

“Hey!” Hadley swung into view. “Do you like his vest? He wasn’t even a little mad when I put it on him. Sat like a champ.”

“Uh, Hads?”

“Yeah?”

Amelia motioned to her friend. And the bright yellow apron she was wearing; the apron that complemented the blue scarf holding up the pile of wavy brown hair on top of her head. “What’s going on?”

She expected an impish grin, one Hadley had cultivated over years of convincing people to go her way. But Hadley sobered, her high cheekbones standing out in sharp relief as she grew serious. “Dinner. A proper dinner. Not that I don’t love cooking together but uh…” She trailed off, slipping her gaze away from Amelia’s. Something pinched in Amelia’s heart. The urge to ask what was really going on - what was wrong - nearly had her interrupting Hadley. “We’ve been working our asses off and I was determined to make good use of the bit of extra time I had this afternoon. Since someone shooed me out of the store two hours before they even thought about leaving.”

“I wondered why you didn’t fight me on that.”

“Well, come see!”

Hadley scooped up the grocery bags and marched her into the kitchen, where the stove was packed with simmering pots and pans and the scent of fresh herbs and olive oil wove through the air. Mr. Buttons took up his usual spot in a nearby armchair to watch. “It’s not fancy,” Hadley said as she started stirring a pot. “But I made chicken meatballs and spaghetti squash with chickpea salad. Oh! And dessert! Strawberry tarts with…” She held up a spoon coated in a thick red sauce. “Pureed lemon-strawberry sauce.”

The spoon was held out in offering, Hadley’s expression expectant. Amelia reached for the spoon but, at the last moment, switched up her play. Hadley was being Hadley, but that didn’t mean she had to be boring old Amelia. If they were both going to dance around this…thing between them, maybe she should make the first attempt. They’d been flirty before, friendly-type things that included touching and hugs and teasing words. But never this. Never this strange, warm closeness that Amelia felt bubble up in her chest.

When Amelia closed her lips over the spoon, the flash of surprise in Hadley’s eyes was payment enough. But the fact that the sauce was delicious helped, too. “That is so good,” she groaned, not at all trying to inject pleasure into her voice. It happened naturally. “Jesus, Hads. I knew you could cook but wow.”

“Oh! Okay well…” For a long moment, her best friend looked both happy and a little lost all at the same time. It was an adorable expression, once that had her scrunching her freckled nose and sending her gaze darting about until it landed on a bubbling pot. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

The heat from the stove wasn’t the only thing sending color into Hadley’s cheeks. A rush of pride nearly had Amelia grinning. Poker face. Poker face. Don’t give up the game yet.

“Okay well, you sit,” Hadley said as she bustled into the little pantry, the one done up in faded wallpaper dotted with tiny yellow flowers and the scent of flour and sugar. “I got us drinks, too.”

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

“No, I didn’t. I wanted to.”

How many times had she heard that over the years? Hadley had a thing for spoiling people and Amelia had been the recipient a countless number of times of that thoughtful kindness. Given the number of herbs around the kitchen, Amelia figured the drinks were some kind of tea Hadley had blended herself.

She was not expecting a tasting board of small wine glasses. And Hadley’s nervous grin said a lot. “So! Your new sommelier, Larsen? Super nice guy, Ames. Good job. But he showed me some stuff about wine and I thought it might be nice for you to be treated instead of being the one always teaching others about it.”

Amelia stared down at the tasting board and couldn’t stop the delighted laughter bubbling up from within. “You picked out wine?”

“I did!” Hadley looked utterly pleased. “With Larsen’s help, of course.”

Hadley talked her through the five selections; all reds, from sweet to dry and then a blend at the end. “I’ve not had any of these,” Amelia marveled, admiring the dark plum color of a cabernet sauvignon.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

When Amelia looked up at her friend, Hadley was shining with giddy joy and warm satisfaction. It all made Amelia's heart sing and her lungs ache and her stomach twist into an impossible knot of wanting. Hadley had always been beautiful, and she was never more full of spirit when she was helping others. But standing in the kitchen of their little rented cottage, the scent of a good home cooked meal floating around them, Amelia felt all sorts of undone. Even more than three days ago in the bath. Wrestling with her own feelings was difficult on the best of days. She was used to shoving the strongest of them into some dark corner and ignoring them for the sake of accomplishing a task. Practical Amelia. Head down, mind churning, hands busy. But Hadley upended all of that. Hadley made her pause to enjoy things, to slow down, to breathe.

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