Gossip and Pilaf

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"Good morning, Ms. Popplewell."

Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. She should've made sure the furry menace stayed in the kitchen! And look, now the biggest gossip in the village knew that Tina had a man in her cottage! A barefoot, dressed in soft trousers - not looking at his thighs and hips, Tina! - wet curls disheveled around his head!

Tina pulled up a forced smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tiddles."

The woman stood prescribed two meters away on Tina's pathway, her tiny handbag matching her pink coat, and Tina could bet a snake smile was hiding behind that mask.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tiddles," the man behind Tina said politely.

OMG, can you just go back to the kitchen already?! Tina was frantically coming up with some smooth lies in her head.

"Would that be little Johnny Holyoake?" Mrs. Tiddles drew out and tilted her head inquisitively. "Well, aren't you all grown up? I remember you and your sister running around as tots - and look at you now!"

Clementine internally shrieked like a banshee. Please, don't look at him now! Nothing to see here!

"How are you doing these days, Mrs. Tiddles?" Does he have to be so bloody lush?! And leaning on a door frame again?!

"Taking one day at a time, my boy," Mrs. Tiddles said mournfully, her gaze greedily drinking in the sight of the man - and of Tina, who also probably looked like she'd just crawled out of her bed! The same bed as the furry menace! Lord, give Tina strength!

Also, what's this rubbish about 'taking one day at a time?' Mrs. Tiddles was as healthy as a bull, and would live till two hundred - bless her! - and even then, she'd still be telling everyone how Tina had a gentleman suitor in her cottage! And he'd obviously spent the night! Kill Tina now!

"Are you visiting for holidays then?" Mrs. Tiddles asked.

Tina slowly turned and pinned the man with a death glare. Tell her the truth, you prick! Make me look better, you owe me that much!

The man smiled widely - and no, Tina didn't notice his white teeth, in a stark contrast with his dark beard, and the laughing wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and no, they aren't at all charming, bugger! - seemingly without noticing Tina's telepathic threatening messages.

"I am," he murmured. "I much prefer our cosy Lower Woulds over the hustle of the city around holiday time. And nothing beats spending time with the family, of course."

Bloody hell, is he dim?! It's like he was trying to make it look like they were lodging here together! Tina gritted her teeth.

"Oh that would be our groceries," the lush bastard drew out and pointed at the van parking in front of Tina's cottage.

'Our' groceries?! 'Our?!' She's so ending the bastard in with one of those pans he'd ordered!

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," Mrs. Tiddles sing-songed.

What 'it?!' There was no 'it' happening here! Tina's internal screaming reached the pitch level of a bat screech.

"Have a lovely day, Ms. Popplewell. And you too, Johnny."

The old lady's white curls shook in a series of enthusiastic nods, and she was definitely grinning under that mask!

"Good day, Mrs. Tiddles," Tina said in a defeated tone.

And can he stop smiling like the visit of the 'old darling' was the best thing that could happen this morning?!

Mrs. Tiddles gave them a wave of her dry little hand and departed. And Bobby, the grocery delivery lad, took her spot. Tina decided it was all getting too much, and fled to her lounge, leaving the man to deal with his own produce.

***

She was sitting on her sofa, in a lotus pose, her arms crossed on her chest. She could hear him clank and bang with something in the kitchen. Tina needed a moment.

"Would you like some omelette?" the furry menace called, and Tina jolted.

He stuck his head in the room, and Tina noisily sucked air in.

"Ms. Popplewell?"

"No, thank you," she hissed.

He studied her face.

"Are you sure? You just had lashings of carbs and sugar. You're going to crash soon," he said.

Thank you for your input, Dr. Judgy.

"I'm good," she grumbled.

He shrugged and disappeared back in the kitchen. Tina sighed. They needed to set boundaries. She needed to work, while making sure he didn't know what she was working on. She climbed off the sofa and plodded towards the sound of a knife meeting a chopping board.

The board and the knife were new. And wow, the man moved a professional chef! Look at that wrist movement! Tina didn't cook but for some reason loved cooking shows. This looks better than Saturday Kitchen! No, it doesn't! Snap out of it, Tina!

"Changed your mind?" he said without turning to her.

And all his charm is gone. Puffed-up git.

"I think we need to figure out some rules of engagement," Tina said firmly.

He hummed, once again without looking at her, and stepped to the stove with the board. Mushroom slices and some green stuff flew into the hot oil and started hissing. Tina jumped up. The man picked up a wooden flipper and swirled the veggies around in the pan.

"Such as?" he asked.

"Well, I need to work, and I don't want to be interrupted," Tina said. "I have a study, so I'll just– I'd rather you didn't–"

"You'd rather I made myself as scarce as possible?" he offered and finally turned around.

Tina narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, it's not like you're a proper guest, so I don't think I'm obliged to entertain you," she grumbled.

He suddenly gave out a short rumbly laugh.

"I'm starting to see that you aren't exactly the entertaining type."

"Excuse me?" Tina hissed. The nerve on this man! "I'm perfectly entertaining when I'm in the right company!"

His grin dropped.

"I mean to say–" he started, but Tina already swirled around and was marching out.

"Just stay out of my study!" she barked. "And don't burn my house down!"

She stomped into her study and closed the door behind her with a bang. No one asked for his opinion! And she could be entertaining! She could! Ugh, what a tosser. Tina plopped her backside in her swivel chair and forcefully scrubbed her desk with her mouse waking up the computer. 'Not entertaining.' Prick.

***

She managed to work for three hours. It had taken about twenty minutes of rereading the pages she'd written the day before, but she'd eventually settled. After all, she loved writing. Writing was easy - and it allowed her to forget about her current circumstances.

It was hunger and the prominent tremor in her hands that made her stop typing. Ugh. She hated the jitters. To think of it now, she should've seen through the whole 'setting the boundaries' matter with the man earlier, but she was on chapter ten, and winding up her plot, and she'd just figured out where the murder took place - and she simply couldn't stay away from writing when she was on chapter ten! She also tended to notice virtually nothing around her when she wrote, so now she was wondering what the furry menace had been up to this whole time! Oopsie daisies.

Tina slowly opened the door - with a cartoonish creak, of course! Bugger! - and creeped out into the hall. The cottage was quiet, and she tiptoed into the lounge.

He was sitting on the sofa, his feet on her ottoman, crossed at the ankles, a laptop settled on his thighs. Not thinking about his thighs, Tina! Bugger. She'd touched them at night, alright?! They were hot, and hard, and she'd been... affected! She'd get over it, OK?!

He also had headphones in his ears and was frowning, his eyes running the lines of text on his screen. Busy destroying someone's writing or editing career, aren't we, Mr. Holyoake? Tina jerked her chin up and marched by him into the kitchen.

Oh.

Huh.

That's odd.

He'd cleaned up. As in, washing up had been done. And the new pan, and the utensils, and his plate were now drying on a dish drainer. She didn't know she had a dish drainer. August had helped her to move, and he'd put a lot of her possessions on the top shelves, so she wasn't sure what was there. Maybe this one was new too, to think of it. Tina checked her fridge and her cabinets. Holyoake had put away all his purchases, and her fridge looked stocked and organised. Tina chewed her bottom lip. It was barmy but she felt like she was intruding! It's her kitchen! He's the one intruding! Ugh. The man was everywhere now - in her bed, and in her kitchen, and she didn't even want to think about her bathroom now! She'd love a shower, to be honest, but maybe she should eat first. The prick had been right. She was crashing, and her low blood sugar was making her even jumpier.

She habitually pulled out a bowl, a spoon, and a box of Coco Pops - and then she noticed her stove was on! And there was something in it! Cooking! Tina put down her food, carefully edged towards the stove - who knew it even worked! - and knelt in front of it.

Bloody hell. It was a cocotte! A bloody cocotte! A Staub cocotte, oval-shaped, in granite grey colour! How did she know? From a cooking show of course. The bloody gizmo was over two hundred quid! And now it was sitting in Tina's oven! And that's when Tina noticed the delicious aroma!

What could possibly smell so divine?!

"Chicken saffron pilaf," the man said behind her.

Tina shrieked, jumped up, hit her head to the oven handle, and collapsed on the floor.

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