Page 32 of Under Your Spell

‘Are you hungry?’ I ask weakly. ‘I could make you a cheese sandwich? Or a cup of tea? I haven’t unearthed the almonds yet but I have ordinary milk?’

‘I’m fine,’ he says, and again it feels like ‘fine’ is code for ‘extremely disappointed’. ‘I think I’d just like to go to my room if that’s okay?’

‘Oh, sure,’ I say, ‘let me show you up.’

I take him up the stairs and hesitate outside my own room for a second. The door is still open from when I rushed downstairs and you can see the rumpled bed and my suitcase lying open. ‘So this is my room,’ I say. ‘Just in case you need anything. I mean not that you need anything in my room, but if you need me.’ I break off, feeling myself flush. ‘Not need me, but if you need me to do something for you and you can’t find me downstairs then I will be here.’

I expect a flirtatious response, at the very least a smirk and a sighting of the dimple, but Theo only clears his throat and frowns.

‘And this is your room.’ I push the door next to mine open, but hover on the threshold as he walks inside. ‘There’s a bathroom through there with a shower, but if you want a bath then there’s another bathroom across the hall.’

Theo wanders in, sticks his head in the door of the en suite and then stands in the window looking out at the view. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes move to the jar of sweet peas.

‘I know it’s probably not what you’re used to…’ I start.

‘It’s great,’ Theo says, his tone flat but polite.

Great. Well, I suppose that’s an improvement on ‘fine’.

‘Okay then,’ I take a step back, ‘you know where to find me, and I’ll be going into Newcastle in a bit so let me know if you need anything else.’

‘I’m good,’ Theo says, ‘thanks.’

And then he closes the door in my face.

Chapter Twelve

I spend the rest of the morning sorting through the boxes and soaking vast quantities of almonds as per David’s meticulous instructions. I don’t see or hear anything from Theo. I guess maybe he’s sleeping.

At least now the kitchen is looking better stocked – I’ve been back and forth to the front door signing for endless parcels. David even sent me loads of clear plastic containers and a label maker so that I could organize everything in a way that made it easy for Theo to find things. He also sent me a detailed plan for precisely how the kitchen cabinets should be arranged so that they mirrored the ones at Theo’s house in LA. While I may have rolled my eyes that heaven forbid the rock star has to rifle through a cupboard for his organic seaweed crackers, I have to admit the label maker is extremely satisfying and soon I find myself labelling everything in sight.

When Theo finally makes an appearance, I am leaning over the kitchen counter sorting his many, many supplements into little days-of-the-week pill organizers that I ordered from Amazon. Unlike David, I draw the line at trailing after him on an hourly basis with fistfuls of vitamin-B and electrolyte water. Surely he is a grown-up who can take some responsibility for himself? I hear the front door open and close, the thud of bags being dropped in the hallway, and then Theo appears in front of me.

‘Here,’ he says gruffly, throwing his keys at me, which I immediately deflect with a squeak, leaving them to fall to the floor with a clatter.

Theo scoops them up, placing them carefully on the counter beside me. ‘They’re car keys, not a hand grenade. You said you had car trouble so if you’re going out, use mine. Use it whenever.’

His voice is a bit rusty and his hair is rumpled. He looks like he’s been asleep. He’s still not smiling at me, but I’m touched by the gesture. I hadn’t expected him to think about me at all. He yawns then, raising his arms in a stretch which lifts the bottom of his T-shirt, revealing a sliver of muscled, golden stomach. I tear my eyes away. Nope. Not thinking about it. Keeping everything professional.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, focussing once more on the pills. ‘About using the car?’

He grunts. ‘Don’t want you breaking down in the middle of nowhere. That death trap of yours is held together by nothing but hope and Sellotape.’

‘Hey!’ I exclaim. ‘It’s duct tape actually and that’s just for the wing mirror. One wing mirror. The other one is fine. Mostly.’

Theo only makes a scoffing sound as he heads to the fridge, pulling the door open and helping himself to one of the bottles of the weird green juice that got delivered in a special cooler like they were organs ready to be transplanted.

He takes a swig and then peers at the bottle with a frown. Probably reading the label that says THEO’S WEIRD GREEN JUICE. Then he closes the door and eyes the sticker that says FRIDGE.

He looks at me and his brows lift. ‘What’s with the labels?’

I shrug. ‘David sent me a label maker so that I could organize things for you and I got a bit excited.’

His mouth reluctantly tugs up at the side and his eyes drop from mine towards my chest, where they linger. Is he checking me out? I feel my cheeks warm, and a strange mixture of outrage and adrenaline thunders through me. Then he gestures with his juice bottle and says, ‘And you thought I’d forget your name?’

I glance down and remember that there’s a label on my chest that says CLEMMIE.

Theo is pressing his lips together like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing at me, but those dark eyes of his are crinkled at the corners. I grab the label maker and punch at the buttons.