Those things didn’t matter when Charles looked at me, because he sawme. Not our differences.
“Oh, God,” I mumbled around a bite of wood-fired elk when our plates arrived. “Oh my God.”
“Right?” he smiled, eyeing me over his wine glass. “Told you.”
The meat was perfectly seared on all sides with a simple crust of salt, pepper, paprika, garlic, onion, and thyme. It was finished in the wood oven to keep the inside moist and tender, at a perfect mid-rare temperature with a generous basting of butter and aromatics. They served it with a berry balsamic reduction for a touch of sweetness to balance the gaminess of the meat. Not to mention the exquisitely buttery potato purée artfully infused with rosemary.
“This is incredible,” I moaned around another bite. “Nothing I’ve ever cooked has been this good. You think they’d give me the recipe?”
I meant it as a joke, but of course Charles had never met a challenge he wouldn’t take on.
“I’ll have a word with the owner.”
“Thank you for bringing me here. A meal like this reminds me why I want to cook for a living.” And why I would stick it out in this job, no matter how tricky at times. London would be worth it.
“My pleasure.” Charles held up his wine glass to clink with me. “To us.”
“To . . . friendship.”
He sipped his drink. “For now.”
I didn’t want the day to end. I thought about the tomorrow version of me, and whether she’d be kicking herself when the spell wore off, for the entire ride back to the chalet. While we talked about movies and random things, I wondered what might’ve happened if the night forked in a different direction that first night after The Foggy Goggle. Where were alternate Elle and Charles now?
“Uh-oh,” he said, stopping at the door to my cottage. “You look deep in thought. What’s up?”
I put on a smile. “Nothing. Just, you know, menu planning in my head.”
“I had fun today. Pant-stealing notwithstanding.”
“Yeah, me too. Thanks for inviting me.”
“Actually,” he said, leaning against the door, “If I’m honest, I even enjoyed getting stuck and nearly freezing to death with you. Is that weird?”
“No, not really,” I admitted. “It wasn’t so bad.”
The space between us got smaller. I wasn’t sure which one of us was doing it first, but his hands found my waist and my lips touched his. I rose up on my toes, winding my arms behind his neck.
So much for tomorrow me. Turned out I wasn’t capable of enjoying this man in moderation. I wanted all of him. All the time. Damn the consequences, and the morning-after regrets.
The soft, gentle kiss became deeper. He pressed my back against the door, fingers digging into my hips. I exhaled, feeling him reach behind me for the doorknob.
“This is a very bad idea,” I whispered against his chest. “Someone could see us.”
“So, let’s go inside.”
Then a sudden noise yanked us apart. A light briefly flashed across the cottage and disappeared again. Like someone had opened the door to the main house across the small courtyard.
I just had to jinx us.
“It was probably just Ali,” he whispered.
“And that’s better how?”
At any rate, the moment was lost. Anxiety began to crawl through my head, imagining Amelia hunting for a snack. Or worse, his mother coming to summon me and finding me snacking on her son instead.
“Good night, Charles,” I said, opening the door and leaving him standing at the threshold.
He grabbed my hand and left a sweet kiss on my knuckles. “Good night, Elle.”
