Page 72 of Outback Secrets

Chapter Twenty

Did I leave the TV on? Liam wondered as he approached his apartment later that afternoon to hear the sounds of Christmas carols coming from within.

But the moment he stepped inside—Sheila pushing past him, already sniffing the air—he discovered something even more disturbing. There were actual Christmas carols wafting from the kitchen where Henri appeared to be doing some kind of baking, if the flour scattered over every available surface was anything to go by. It almost looked like it had snowed.

What on earth was she doing here in the middle of the afternoon?

Cursing under her breath, Henri’s mood seemed in complete contrast to the cheerful tunes currently torturing his eardrums. Her head was bent and her hands manically kneading some kind of pale brown concoction.

He took a moment just to observe. Just to let the fact she was cooking in his kitchen settle in. He watched Macca cooking all the time, but it never felt like this. This felt so … domestic. A sight he never expected to see. A sight he never wanted to see.

His chest grew tight, and he found himself struggling to breathe. First, she’d hung that bloody wreath on his door, then she’d somehow managed to get him to spill most of his secrets, and now this.

Thiswas too much.

Marching right into the kitchen, he jabbed his finger against Henri’s phone to silence the music. Who in their right mind actually liked Mariah Carey singing about what she wanted for Christmas anyway?

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he demanded.

Henri spun around and Liam got his first proper look at her. He raised his eyebrows, but it was impossible to be angry when someone was standing in front of you looking like that. Her hair was streaked with flour and had all but fallen out of its ponytail, there were stains all over her shorts and T-shirt, a sheen on her brow and even more flour on her face.

She was a total mess and also totally adorable. Something dangerous shifted inside him as Henri’s flour-covered hand flew to her chest.

‘Oh my God! You almost gave me a heart attack. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.’

‘Maybe if you weren’t blasting Christmas carols so loudly, you’d have heard me.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe, but you can’t make gingerbread without Christmas carols. According to my mother, it’s the law.’

He stared past her to the weird-looking shapes scattered throughout the sea of flour. ‘They’re gingerbread cookies?’

‘They’re supposed to be,’ she said despondently as she gazed at the mess on the kitchen bench.

He wasn’t sure whether she was angry, frustrated, upset, or a combination of all three.

‘What are they for?’

‘You,’ she said simply.

This one word squeezed at his heart. ‘You’re making me gingerbread cookies?’ Katie was the last person to cook him anything Christmas-related—eggnog cookies—the day before the shooting.

Henri nodded and wiped her brow with the back of her hand, smearing even more flour across her forehead. ‘Remember? I owe you some, and I always keep my promises. But I also wanted to do something to say thank you … for yesterday, for taking a risk and pushing me to get in that Airvan. As much as I could have killed you at the time, if it wasn’t for you forcing me out of my comfort zone, I’d still be wondering if I’d ever be able to fly again.’

‘That’s really sweet of you.’

‘You might not think so when you taste them. That’s if I can manage to actually get any shapes onto the tray without the dough crumbling. I’m not sure if my mistake was adding too much flour, kneading it too much, or not leaving the dough to rest long enough.’

He smiled. Now she definitely sounded frustrated.

‘It’s not funny!’

Liam glanced around the kitchen again. ‘Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. I think it’s very funny.’

Henri picked up a cookie cutter and hurled it at him. ‘Jerk!’

Luckily, he was a good catch.

She scowled as his fingers closed around her weapon. ‘I’d like to see you do better.’