“Right. You do know that those ‘silly little paper inserts’ have dosage information and side effects on it, don’t you?”
“Yes, but the box has the dosage information, too, and there’s far less to read there. Does anyone actually read the inserts?”
“I do.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “You never know.”
“I don’t know what to say to that. You’re a real enigma.”
“I would take that as a compliment if I thought it was one.” He stared at the contents of the drawer. “Are you sure there’s ibuprofen in here?”
“I’m taking a wild guess,” I admitted. “You might have to dig for them.”
“Great. Now I’m a rabbit.” With a sigh, he got stuck in, occasionally stopping to throw empty boxes and the inserts on the counter. The lights flickered again, and we both stilled.
I peered up at the spotlights overhead. “We should probably cook.” I swung my leg off the stool and stood up. “Otherwise, we will be in trouble. I don’t know if the gas hob will work without any electricity.”
“I think it might, but you really need to sit down.”
“I can sit down after. It’s nothing serious.”
Miles looked down. “Is it swollen or is that just your llama socks?”
I followed his gaze. They were very fluffy, thick socks. “Either or,” I replied after a moment, then went to the fridge. Thankfully, Aunt Cat had been shopping before this storm had hit and it was full.
On the other hand, unfortunately, the fridge was full.
Which meant there were so many choices. Too many choices. And we didn’t have a lot of time, because the power could and probably would go any second.
“Oh, no. I don’t know what to cook.”
“Here. I found some aspirin.” Miles handed me a blister pack of aspirin. “Take these, and I’ll figure out some food.”
“We’re running out of time. The power will go.”
“Yes, but standing here arguing with me isn’t going to cook food any faster,” he replied. “Take the painkillers, and we might stand half a chance.”
I knew he was right. The problem was that I didn’t want him to be.
Begrudgingly, I poured a glass of water and popped two tablets out of the pack, then took them. Hopefully they would start working soon, and I’d be able to move around like a normal person instead of hobbling.
“Do you have spaghetti?”
“Tinned, or…?”
Miles actually fought a smile. “Have you ever made Bolognese with tinned spaghetti?”
“I can’t say I have,” I mused. “If there is, it’ll be in the pantry.” I turned towards the door that led to the pantry where all the non-perishables were stored and pulled it open.
“I could—”
“Nonsense. I can walk. I twisted my ankle; I didn’t cut off my foot.” And my socks had paw-shaped non-slip things on the bottoms, because I was an adult, and if I wanted to wear socks aimed at ten-year-olds then I bloody well would.
I hit the switch to turn on the light and hummed, looking around.
Well.
There was a lot of food in here.
“I might need some help after all,” I said, looking around at various tins and jars, some of which contained homemade jams, chutneys, and honey from the beehives on the estate. “There’s a lot of stuff in here, it’ll be quicker with us both.”
“I’ve found the pans, let me just boil this water.” There was a clink and a clunk followed by the tell-tale sign of one of the gas rings coming to life to heat the water. “All right, spaghetti.” Miles joined me in the pantry and looked around. “You could live in here.”
“Only if you had a tin opener,” I muttered, eying the tins of soup. “Can you see the spaghetti?”
“Not yet.” He spun, scanning the shelves as I did. “Oh, there it is. Right up there.” He leaned over, and the light cut off, plunging us into darkness.
And he was pressed right up against my body.
Like.
Right there.
Chest to chest.
My nose was touching his collarbone kind of against each other.
This was not good.
I swallowed and reached out to grip onto the shelf next to me, making two jars clink together. “Is that the power?” I whispered as if speaking any louder would mean I’d raise some sort of pantry monster desperate to raid jars of green tomato chutney.
“I think so,” Miles replied, his voice just as low as mine. “Want me to try the switch?”
“No, I’d like to stand here in the dark with you in my personal space.”
Could he feel how fast my heart was beating?
Did he know?
If I shivered, would he be able to tell?
Gosh, what was I doing? Sure, he smelled great, like freshly cut grass and soil and the flowery detergent we used on our sheets, but I had no business reacting like this. There was no reason for my heart to be running a marathon at his closeness in the dark.
None.
None at all.
The air around me cleared as Miles stepped back slightly and flicked the switch several times. “I think you’re right. It’s the power.”
“Oh.” I wrapped my arms around my waist as a shiver ran through my body.
Miles was still close enough that if I lost my balance and slipped forward, I’d fall right into his body. A part of me—the part with one too many hormones raging in it—considered falling accidentally-on-purpose and hoping he’d catch me.
But that was ridiculous.
My life was not a romantic comedy movie.
If it was, it’d be terribly boring.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and I felt his hand touch my arm.
I laughed shakily. “I guess that’s a no to the spaghetti.”
“I’m inclined to agree. Come on, it’s pitch black in here. We need to find those candles.” He wrapped his hand around my elbow to guide me out, and I’d never been so glad to be wearing a jumper in my life.
God knows how I’d react if my arms were bare.
Miles helped me out of the pantry and into the kitchen where the gas cooker had gone off. He released me and turned the knob so no gas could escape, then turned to me. “Shall we find the candles?”
I nodded and limped in the direction of the library where there was both the fire that needed seeing to and a stash of candles for emergencies, and the full realisation of the situation I was in dawned on me.
I was alone. In my house. With no power.
With the hot gardener I had a highly inappropriate crush on.
Surely things couldn’t get any worse than this.
CHAPTER NINE – MILES
If anyone had told me this morning that I’d be stranded at Arrowwood Hall alone with Gabriella with no power, I’d have laughed at them.
It wasn’t something I’d planned to happen today.
How was I supposed to know the roads flooded? I was in the greenhouse when the storm had hit, and it really hadn’t been raining for that long when I was ready to go. It wasn’t that unusual that I hadn’t seen anyone else.
It was raining.
It was hard to garden in the rain.