Page 27 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Satisfaction rings through me as I show her around—the warm coloured living room with brown leather couches not dissimilar to those at the shop, and deep orange walls lined with bookshelves, the pale blue and white chef’s kitchen with gold hardware, which was designed and mostly used by my cousin Maria when she visits, and the two guest bedrooms upstairs.

When I hesitate at the door to my room, she pushes right past me.

I laugh at the absence of her usual shyness as she starts to snoop.

It’s amusing to lean in my doorframe and watch her tiptoe around.

She looks through the photos I have on my dresser, the mystery novels on my bedside table, and through my ensuite, which is accessible through a door next to the closet.

Seemingly satisfied, she comes back out and tucks herself against me.

“It’s so nice in here, it feels like an actual home.” She looks around wistfully. I made my house a home intentionally, always knowing I would want to bring more people into it, and now that I have Hazel here…

I stop my train of thought before I get ahead of myself.

“Thanks, I started working on it before I fully took over the shop. I’m proud of how it’s all come together.” I lead her back down the stairs to the kitchen. In the warm glow of the kitchen light, I spin her in my arms to face me.

“I know you may not want to talk about it… it’s been a crazy night.

” She hangs her head, crumpling my heart.

I cup her face and guide her eyes to meet mine again, staring into those gorgeous dark depths.

“I thought I would offer for you to stay here if you wanted. In a guest room, if that makes you more comfortable. I just hate the idea of you going home to an empty apartment after what happened.” I don’t want to fight the urge to make sure she’s taken care of tonight .

“Are you sure?” She can’t hide the quiver in her voice.

“Sugar, if you wanted to kick me out of my own bed and make me sleep on the ground, I would let you.” And I mean every word of it. “First, why don’t I make us some hot cocoa and we can hang out for a bit?”

“Hot cocoa? What am I, twelve?” she teases, fixing me with a goofy look.

“No, you brat, I just make a mean hot cocoa, and I want to bless you with a heavenly experience.” I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at her.

“Ah, heavenly experiences… and hot cocoa is the only one you’re good at?” The hand I have on her face slides into her hair, gripping and forcing her head to tip back as I pull her closer to me.

“No, but if you’re a good girl, I’ll show you the others.” Goosebumps break out over her slender arms. I walk her over to one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and pop her onto it. “You gonna let me do something nice for you now?”

“Well, go ahead, do the very first nice thing for me you have ever done…” she says sarcastically, making a small sweeping gesture with her hand.

“Well, you usually fight me on it, this time I figured I’d ask permission.” I move around the kitchen, gathering what I need while heating a pot over the stove. If I’m going to make this the perfect night again, I’m pulling out all the stops.

“Fair enough,” she concedes, starting to flip through the cookbooks littering the island. “Are you a secret chef? There are so many of these here!” I have an array from a variety of different cuisines.

“Actually, my cousin is, Maria. She uses this kitchen more than I do, so I sort of accumulated her favourites over the years. When I moved into this place, I offered to give them back, but she says she’ll cook for me if I let her keep them here so…

I’m the winner in that deal.” Everything is coming together well in the pot as the charged emotions from earlier tonight cool.

“That’s awesome, I love how close you are with your family.” Her tone is laced with an emotion that’s hard to place .

“Yeah, I remember you saying you weren’t particularly close with yours.” She makes a noncommittal noise. “That’s maybe not quite a first date question?” I want to tread lightly, even if I’m still curious to know everything about her.

“That might be a tenth date conversation,” she laughs humourlessly. I grab mugs for our drinks and finish placing the final touches—whipped cream and shaved chocolate—bringing them over and sitting next to her.

“Fair enough, and what do you classify as first date topics?” I take a too-big gulp of my steaming hot drink, scorching my throat.

“Hmmm…” she ponders as she sips her own, her face brightening a bit with her first taste, “University, that time I thought I could play flute in band class, and my eighth-grade trip to Seattle… and favourites.”

“Okay, favourites I can work with.” I tap my chin, pretending to think as she giggles into her mug. “’Kay, rapid fire favourites—colour, animal, place to travel, song, article of clothing, aaaaaand author, GO.” I give her a challenging smile, which she returns.

“I got this… pink, cats, I’ve only travelled for school, I still want to see Scotland, Cruel Summer, of course, I love swishy skirts, and Tessa Bailey.” She smiles triumphantly. I have to admit I’m impressed she remembered it all.

“Those are great answers.” I can’t stop smiling now.

“Same questions for you? Or do I need to come up with new ones? I don’t know the rules.” She can’t keep her eyes off me, and I don’t want her to.

“No rules, pretty girl, I can answer the same ones. My favourites are dark greens, dogs—I’m actually surprised the Fish hasn’t come out yet. He’s probably napping in the bathtub.”

“The bathtub?! Is that normal for a dog? I’ve never had a pet before,” Hazel cackles, nearly choking on her drink.

“Yeah, I don’t really know what’s up with that, I’ve chosen not to question it.

Anyway, I’d want to explore more of South America, I love Just My Type, I love a shirt where I can roll up the sleeves and show off my tattoos,” She rolls her eyes at that, despite the fact that I’ve caught her staring at them more than once, “and I love reading Agatha Christie.”

“Agatha Christie? She’s one of the biggest literary names; that’s such a cop-out!” she yells playfully.

“Why is that a cop-out?! She’s the OG mystery writer; how can I not love her?

” I mock-defend myself. Hazel tsks, shaking her head.

“Wait a minute…” I lean in, pretending to scrutinize her.

“You haven’t read any of her books, have you?

” Her head snaps up again, “I KNEW IT!” I shout, “You can’t knock it until you’ve tried it. ”

“I never knock before I try! How dare you insinuate that!” She’s laughing through her outrage.

“Have you even seen the movies?”

Hazel puts her mug down and leans her forehead on the table in defeat. “No,” she grumbles.

“That’s it, you need an education, young lady, we’re watching them right now.” I stand up resolutely, taking her with me. I’ll be damned if I’m not going to use any excuse to touch her.

“Young lady?!” she cries indignantly, “I am, like, three years younger than you!” Still, she relents and places her hand in mine and lets me bring her into the living room, taking her drink with her, as I set up the movie on my streaming service.

I’m going to start her with the first movie, and I’m certain she would enjoy the others as well.

I’m going to get her hooked on the movies and on me.