“We’ll eat as soon as we check-in,” he announced, “and let’s scope the accommodation before we decide ontime here.”
High Tea & Co. was a dainty little cafe tucked away in an oasis of greenery. Thirty minutes one way and you would be back on the remote expanse of the highway, yet here it really was,a picturesque oasis where your deepest secrets were safeas Mum so aptly scrawled nearly forty years ago.
The quaint accommodation meant Corbin and I were sharing a cottage, but with separate rooms, and it was the perfect place for a longer stay if we wanted - his words. Another intimate location to share with my parents. And after Mum’s hilarious writing, I knew this would have been a place they both enjoyed.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, perusing the menu which was 90% sweets. “I want a double-double at a minimum. Why don’t you have bagels on your menus? It’s a travesty,” I huffed, talking more to myself than him at this point. The food was different here and while I was enjoying not having to cook, I was still searching for hidden treats which resembled home. I couldn’t remember when Australia stopped feeling like home, but after a few years of being in the welcoming atmosphere, I stopped thinking about how much I missed it down here and looked to Canada as where I belonged.
Corbin rubbed a hand across his grin, and it only increased under his touch. Surrounded by all the lush foliage, his eyes were particularly green and with some fresh stubble lining his face, he appeared more carefree and less business-like. A look which absolutely suited him.
“What’s a double-double?” He asked and I feigned shock.
“Coffee,” I said with a look which meant duh. “Double cream, double sugar, double the love.”
“Right,” he mocked with raised brows.
“If you try one, you’ll understand.”
“I’ll stick with my regular boring long black. I’m going to-” the shrill ring of his phone cut him short, and he glanced towards it before excusing himself. “It’s my boss, order for me?” He asked, standing to take the call.
“Sure, but tell him you’re on leave,” I sing-songed as I selected a variety of sweets for us based on their chocolate levels and placed my order at the counter. Apparently, Kennedy had retired a few years prior but his trusted grandson – Kenn – had all of his hidden recipes and with a less than subtle wink, told me he would ensure we were taken care of with the same service his pa would have wanted. Which was cute, I guess.
I was colouring when Corbin finally returned to the table, appearing a little less relaxed if his scowl was anything to go on.
“Everything okay?” I handed him a sheet of paper and some crayons and watched as he selected a darker colour. I didn’t press him to answer when he offered only a small nod, and when Kenn brought our food out a while later, I thanked him from the both of us, throwing a coy smile and a gentle lip bite at Corbin. An apology for the smorgasbord of sweets I’d selected for lunch.
“That is the last time you are left alone to order,” he mumbled, before grabbing a slice of chocolate cake Bruce Bogtrotter would be proud to eat. If anything, I was glad my overzealous stomach appeared to snap him out of whatever he was brewing over.
I reached for the pancake stack, dragging a mouthful through the maple syrup before moaning my enjoyment.
“This is…” I paused when I looked up to Corbin staring at me in a way I hadn’t before seen. His lips slightly parted, eyes watching my mouth as I swiped at some maple syrup trying to escape. I felt my cheeks flame, suddenly shy under his assessment. I tucked an invisible strand of hair behind my ear, desperate for something to do as he seemed to catch himself and quickly glanced away. “Taste,” I held my fork out for him to take a bite, which he did, his lips grazing my utensil in a gesture I shouldn’t be noticing, let alone enjoying.
“Pretty good,” he said around a mouthful of my sweets, and I nodded in agreement, trying not to focus on the depth of green in his eyes.
Needing a distraction, I poured us each some table water and took my time sipping from my cup. We fell into an awkward silence – while I wondered if my buddy over here had noticed my inappropriate staring and thoughts.
I added another sugar to my hot drink. The cappuccino was a far cry from the coffee I was used to at home – less sweet and stronger. But, trying to be an optimist, I focused on how that meant I could overload on more dessert. Kenn came out to check on us a few times, and other than ordering another ‘coffee’ due to the minute sizes they served down under, we were content to sit at the table in the hideaway no one else seemed to have discovered and eat until we were both vocally full.
I focused on the scrapings of our crayons brushing over the papers. The click of a crayon hitting the tabletop before another was snatched. The occasional chatter of a bird or the sound of cutlery from the kitchen. It was a cacophony of sounds I hadn’t previously noticed, too many other things to focus on, but was suddenly mesmerised with.
Glancing up to map the tree line, I paused my colouring, slowly looking across the table and focusing on the deep brown of Corbin’s hairline. His short hair cut close to the scalp when I first arrived, had grown a little, moving down to that fresh brown stubble lining his jaw. The way his Adams apple dipped and bobbed with every swallow of his water, the slight narrowing of his eyes as he concentrated on his own art. Those hands, which made the crayon look so small, repetitive in their movements across the page.
With each breath, I noticed his shoulders drop a little more, the tightness in his brow slowly fading as the monotonous task brought with it a sense of mindfulness.
I understood. I had never felt this calm either, hypnotic almost as if floating through a peaceful, trance-like state and I wondered what was in the air around here to emote such tranquillity.
“I think I could live here,” I whispered and Corbin’s hand stilled, his eyes slowly tracing their way from the table, up my body – lingering on my chest – before meeting my own gaze.
The moment felt elongated, reflective and dreamy as butterflies slowly took flight in my stomach at the intentional perusal.
Holy shit.
He definitely just checked me out, I realised, as a flashback to the Springs shot forth in my mind.
“Australia or here specifically?”
“Maybe both,” I admitted, sounding a little breathy.
“My boss asked how New York sounded for our new office,” he drawled, his fingers slowly tracing around his mouth before returning to the table. “That’s why he called.”
