A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews by Annie Darling

Author:Annie Darling [Annie Darling]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

‘There you are! I wasn’t sure of quantities so I reckoned starting with about five hundred grams of flour would give you about twenty-five pastries,’ Steven said. He was already slowly mixing the dough with Mattie’s beloved KitchenAid mixer, which had belonged to her grandmother.

‘Hmm. I usually double up,’ Mattie said, opening the fridge to take out some dough that she’d made earlier, plus a packet of her favourite Normandy unsalted butter. ‘Look, I’m perfectly capable of doing this by myself. I don’t know why you’re here and actually, I don’t even want you here so—’

‘I missed you, Matilda,’ Steven said softly. ‘I miss everything about you.’

‘Really?’ Mattie asked, raising an eyebrow and starting her dough. ‘Because, according to you, there wasn’t one good thing about me.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Steven said, shaking his head, and he was doing that thing that he did with his eyes. Furrowing his brow and gazing downwards as if he was in deep, existential pain, like he was the innocent victim in all this. ‘You know I loved you, even though there were times when you made it very difficult to love you.’

Fortunately, Mattie had reached the part of pastry making that required her to place her unwrapped butter between two pieces of greaseproof paper, then bash seven shades of hell out of it with her rolling pin.

It was something she always enjoyed doing. It relieved the stresses of the day just as effectively as Pippa’s Boxfit classes and wasn’t such a strain on her upper arms. But never before in the history of flaky pastry had one woman gone to town as hard on the butter as Mattie was doing.

‘I. Didn’t. Used. To. Be. Difficult,’ she said between blows, each one making Steven blink. ‘You’re. The. One. Who. Made. Me. Difficult.’

‘No, no, Mattie,’ Steven said firmly. ‘That’s not the way I remember it. You’re mistaken.’

‘I. Am. Not. Mistaken.’

‘You know that you become quite irrational when you get too emotional. Calm down, sweetie.’

‘If. You. Don’t. Like. The. Way. I. Am. Then. You. Can. Leave.’ Mattie gestured with her rolling pin. ‘Door’s over there.’

‘Don’t be silly. I said I’d help you with your prep and that’s what I’m going to do,’ Steven said calmly, trying to take a step back as Mattie picked up a knife to cut her flattened butter into small squares. ‘You know, I would cut much larger squares, if I were you.’

‘Yeah, well, you’re not me,’ Mattie growled. ‘And forgive me for not following your culinary advice when you were the one who stole my recipes …’

‘You’ve got absolutely no proof,’ Steven said with a shrug. ‘And you’re getting hysterical.’

‘I am not hysterical,’ Mattie said because she wasn’t even close. She remembered, from her skim read of Tom’s dissertation, that there was a certain kind of man who was quick to label women as hysterical whenever they stood up for themselves.

‘You’re shouting,’ Steven said in a quieter voice so that Mattie gave a guilty start even though she hadn’t been shouting. Or … she was pretty sure that she hadn’t been shouting, she couldn’t say for certain.

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