Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  ‘I wouldn’t dare. They took time and effort to grow. What are you making today? I take it you’ll need more than just tomatoes.’

  ‘Basque style mussels with a piperade side dish and…’

  Bianca rolled her eyes. ‘Let me guess. More bread. Why not showcase some of the green vegetables I have growing out there. There are lovely lettuces, some kale, bok choy, sweet peas, so many options.’

  ‘I know exactly what you have growing out there. We discuss the planting before every season.’

  ‘I didn’t know you’d paid so much attention to me.’ Bianca winked at him and he flushed. Was she trying to be sultry? Or was it just natural.

  ‘You know I can’t resist…’ He paused purposely and waited until Anvita’s frown deepened. ‘the call of a beautiful tomato. Oh, the scent, so rich, and the colour. The smooth skin and the round juicy acidic taste. They are almost the perfect fruit.’ From the corner of his eye, Anvita nodded.

  ‘I rather like dragon fruit myself,’ Bianca said. ‘Prickly in appearance, yet tender and succulent on the inside.’

  Etienne couldn’t contain a laugh and he coughed as he reached for the tomatoes. He held one up to his nose and breathed it in—the earthy richness would perfectly go with the pinot noir he’d selected.

  ‘These are excellent. Rich and luxurious, nothing beats the smell of freshly picked tomatoes. And they will go perfectly with this local Pinot Noir. Pass me an onion.’

  Bianca dropped an onion into his outstretched palm, careful not to touch him on camera. ‘Now you can blame your tears on the onion juice, not my beautiful tomatoes.’ It must have been his imagination, but he was sure she almost glanced down at her own breasts to taunt him. He kept his chin high—no way would he be caught on camera ogling her, even as his palms tingled with the memory of her soft skin and hard, pebbled nipples. He swallowed down the rush of moisture in his mouth.

  ‘Tears. Ha. First, one cuts the onion, and some garlic, fry it in olive oil.’

  ‘Extra virgin?’

  ‘But of course… Is there any other type? Non, only the best quality will do. And I don’t believe any of this nonsense about using lower quality wine for the cooking. Use the best taste if you want the best taste.’

  Bianca smirked. ‘And only the best for you.’

  ‘Oui. Naturally. I have exemplary taste.’ He let his gaze drift over her body this time and she folded her arms defensively. Great—now he looked like a bloody predator on TV—not the smitten fool he was. With an awkward nod, he grabbed the little bowl of sliced onion and garlic and threw them into the cast iron pan on the stove. He added a good dollop of olive oil and listened as it sizzled.

  ‘Do you hear that? The sizzle is what I’m looking for, and now turn it down before it burns. The art to this process is getting the onion to release the natural sugars and sweeten into a caramel. It’s the same process if you want to make an onion jam, gently heat the onion through with a good quality oil, then add some sugar or honey to get a jam consistency.’

  ‘But that’s not what you are making today?’ Bianca dropped her hands and peered into the pan.

  ‘No. This is the base for the mussels—next we deglaze the pan with an excellent Pinot Noir.’ Etienne grabbed the bottle and splashed in enough for the pan to spit, slowly adding more until he had a good sauce happening. ‘Some chefs add a chorizo before the wine to add more meatiness to the sauce, but I’m going to do a vegetarian option.’

  ‘Did you know that some vegans believe they can eat shellfish because they don’t have a nervous system?’

  Etienne kept one hand on the spoon and stirred. ‘They do?’

  Bianca shrugged. ‘Yeah, I read it somewhere. Kind of fascinating. I guess it depends where you draw the line on what is a sentient being.’

  ‘Fascinating yes. Scientific, no. Humans are omnivores, we have a huge range of tastebuds and should be tasting everything.’

  ‘Even chilli.’ Bianca smirked and he nodded ruefully.

  ‘I’m never going to win that one, am I?’

  She shook her head. ‘You want all the flavours, but you refuse to add heat.’

  ‘There are four main flavour types—sweet, salty, bitter, sour.’

  A harsh laugh rang out. ‘Maybe in your world. What about umami and heat? Chilli, Sichuan pepper, horse radish, wasabi—they are all examples of the heat flavour. And for goodness’ sake, you must understand the concept of umami given the vast numbers of meaty broths, stews, and soups you create for Homage.’

  ‘Homage represents the purity of French techniques and fresh produce.’

  ‘And like you’ve also repeated ad infinitum—French techniques can be applied to all cuisines. Embrace a little bit of heat to deepen your flavours. I have just the pepper growing outside for this broth.’

  Etienne had lost control of this conversation. He could feel Anvita’s glare at their happy conversation and he squared his shoulders before he tried to get back to where Anvita wanted their discussion to go.

  ‘I know you do, and I’m going to use them in the piperade, not the mussel sauce. You’re a farmer—you should understand the need for patience. Use some. Now. Back to the recipe. We’ll let this simmer gently for a while and add the mussels just before we are ready to serve. Hand over those beefsteak tomatoes.’

  8

  Chapter 8

  Well fuck. That episode ended like a bloody lead balloon. What on earth was up Etienne’s ass today? Their banter had started out awkward as Anvita wanted them to show chemistry, not calf eyes, as she’d succinctly stated it. It’d descended into vile nastiness, bringing out the worst in each other.

  ‘That was shit.’ Etienne growled at her. Had he chased her all the way out into her orchard just to tell her what she already knew? Damn him.

  ‘You reckon?’ Bianca wanted to throw apples at his head, either that or push him down to the ground and ride him until she screamed with pleasure. Angry sex might be just what they both need to deal with that episode. ‘Hopefully Anvita can cut some of it. I mean we ended up doing about twenty re-takes of the final presentation. I thought you were going to lose it when you dropped that egg on the floor.’

  ‘The egg! It’s not about the egg. Anvita wanted banter between us, not that weird let’s pretend we aren’t fucking bullshit.’

  ‘Would you rather we announced it to the world? It’s only been a week. Who knows where this is going?’

  He paced in a circle. ‘Nowhere. That’s where it’s going. It’s over. You stick to farming and I’ll stick to the kitchen.’ With a kick to the ground, Etienne marched off with dust swirling around his boots. The Prize Dickhead. Did he just break up with her? How naïve of her to think they could simply fuck without feelings and it’d all be okay. Fighting with him would make the next episode bloody awkward, wouldn’t it? And of course, he just declared it was over without giving her any say. She leaned against the trunk of a mango tree and breathed in the farm air. It settled in her tight lungs but did nothing to take away the lump in her throat. This bullshit was why she preferred her own company. Lusting after beautiful arrogant people was a wonderful hobby. Actually, getting involved with them was not a good choice. Not when the reality of their character kicked in. Heat built behind her eyes and she blinked quickly. She would not cry. Would not. With a gulp, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and stepped away from under the mango tree into the sun. Damn, she loved this little farm. She opened her phone screen and rang her sister. Hopefully Eve would have some wisdom that would allow her to keep her dream job here—not the filming—just the farming.

  ‘Hey Eve, how’s things?’ Hopefully Eve couldn’t hear the wobble in her voice.

  ‘What the fuck has the prize dickhead done now?’

  ‘Why would it be him?’

  ‘You never ring me during the day.’

  Bianca rolled her eyes. ‘That’s not true at all. Last time we talked it was…’

 
‘Mid-morning, and you were stressed about this TV show idea of his. What has he done this time?’

  ‘I think you should be asking me what I’ve done—’

  Eve sucked in a deep breath, one that echoed through the phone. ‘What have you done? You know you shouldn’t bait him.’

  ‘Can’t help it. Look, we might have…’ Bianca hesitated, then whispered at great speed, ‘had lots of sex.’

  Eve squealed. ‘Go you. It’s about time you got laid. All that fussing about plants and those damned pigs, then going home to an empty bed.’

  ‘I quite like my life. I know it’s not as exciting as running the largest events company in Perth, but it’s mine.’

  ‘And his now too… Unless he’s terrible in bed. Is that why you are ringing in the middle of the day? To get tips on how to teach him? You do realise that men like that can’t be taught.’

  ‘Eve.’ Why did no one listen to her? Being the only quiet introvert in her family meant she ought to be used to being talked over and ignored, but it still cut a little bit.

  ‘If it’s not that, then what?’ Maybe if Eve shut her mouth, she’d have a chance to explain…

  ‘We broke up. Just now.’

  ‘What? It’s only been a couple of weeks since we last talked. Is he bored of you already?’

  Bianca gazed up at the sky. ‘Maybe I’m bored of him. Hell, Eve, are you on my side here?’

  ‘Of course. You’re my only sister, I’m always on your side.’

  ‘Next time I’ll ring one of our brothers…’ They spoke over each other. ‘I’m sorry.’ A pig started scratching his head against Bianca’s jeans and she reached down and rubbed the animal behind his ears. The pig leaned harder against her, forcing her to step aside.

  ‘Sorry. Not now.’

  ‘Why did you ring if you can’t talk now?’ Eve puffed in her ear.

  ‘I was talking to the pig. He wanted scratches but he’s pushing against me. And now he’s waddling after me down the laneway. I’m going to have to climb a bloody tree to get away from him.’

  ‘Sounds like a metaphor for your prize dickhead.’ Eve chuckled at her own joke, and Bianca felt the rise of hysterical laughter bubbling at the back of her throat.

  ‘Yeah. A bit. Look, basically, I think the whole thing was just accidental. After shooting the first episode, we kind of had, I don’t know, adrenalin-release sex, and then it just flowed from there. But after today’s episode, the director wanted less puppy dog eyes from us and more of the ugly banter we had in the first episode. But it got a bit nasty—and as much as Etienne is annoyingly confident with his commands—he’s never been cruel before. We had to shoot the final segment like twenty times, and in the end the director threw me out so Etienne could concentrate and get the recipe plated up.’

  ‘Assholes—both of them!’

  ‘Yeah. And then he dumped me. Because the shoot went bad. It’s not my fault he can’t control his tongue.’ Bianca stretched out her shoulders, one at a time. ‘But you know, is it really a dumping if we were just having a bit of fun sex? We didn’t ever discuss being in a relationship or anything…’

  ‘And you both still work here.’

  ‘Technically, I work for him—’

  ‘So, the balance of power is in his favour. He pays you to work for him, he fucks you, and he decides when to stop fucking you. Bianca, that’s all shit.’ Eve’s succinct outline felt like a punch to the throat. The harsh delivery of truth from her sister’s mouth sucked all the air from Bianca’s lungs. ‘And—’ Apparently Eve wasn’t finished… ‘—I don’t get why you said yes to him in the first place. You don’t seem to like him very much, not if our conversations are anything to go by, and he’s your boss.’

  Bianca ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘Wow, way to make it sound terrible. I might bitch to you about his way of working, but I sure as hell have always respected him. What he’s achieved with Homage is amazing, and as far as being my boss is concerned, he mostly leaves me alone to create the goal for this side of his paddock to plate movement. This last week has been magic—our old banter turned into something really fun. I just don’t understand how it all went wrong today.’

  ‘Respect is an excellent foundation for a relationship. Does he respect you?’

  Bianca scratched the back of her neck… Maybe, no, oh… ‘In the first episode he said that my produce was superior to anything else in Cowaramup.’ Was that respect?

  ‘Did he say that for the TV audience to get more people to eat at Homage, or did he really mean it?’

  ‘I hope he meant it. He has a pretty open kind of face, it’s usually easy to tell what he’s feeling when he talks. That’s why I couldn’t understand it when he said that he’d always wanted me. He’s always kept me at a distance with his commands.’

  ‘Hmm, you know what I think?’

  ‘Literally that’s why I called you. To get a second opinion.’ Bianca bit back a sigh.

  ‘I think he has liked you for ages, and he’s scared of his own feelings. Typical bloody man.’ Eve giggled.

  ‘He has a funny way of showing it.’ Bianca hated the way her heart leaped with hope at Eve’s comment. If she was right, then this might work out. If not, she was going to get crushed.

  ***

  The sun set on another day over the farm, and Bianca put away her toolbox. She’d avoided Etienne for a couple of days. A successful strategy when combined with wallowing at home with chocolate and a bottle of wine. It’d taken her three nights to drink the whole bottle, because what was there to regret except maybe the hope for something more than just brilliant sex? And during the day, she’d worked too hard, digging over garden beds until lactic acid made her muscles ache. Today, she’d run out of the usual daily tasks for the week. The chicken coop door needed new hinges, and she’d spent an hour fixing it. Doing something practical normally helped her think, but once again her brain struggled to figure out what had gone wrong. Did Etienne really think this option was the best for both of them? How were they supposed to do the next episode together? They were peers contractually on the show—with half of all income going to her. Bianca gasped. How could she have missed that? He’d set that up in her benefit, giving her joint equal status on the show when he could have easily taken everything and simply included her work in her currently employment contract. Obviously, he respected her enough—before they’d had sex—to do that for her. Even if she left this job, her dream job, she’d still have to work on the show to fulfil the contract she signed with Anvita’s production company. Hell. Had he done that for her? Because he’d liked her before they’d even touched each other? Or maybe he wasn’t the prize dickhead she’d assumed? The overriding worry of being tied to the TV show prevented her from hope. What a mess of conflicting emotions.

  ‘Bianca.’ Shit. Etienne was the last person she wanted to see now.

  ‘I supposed we should talk about the next episode.’ She tried to sound upbeat, but failed.

  ‘Oui. And—’ He ran his hand through his hair. Gosh, he must be frustrated. He never touched his hair at work, because he hated getting hair in his cooking. A surprised giggle tickled her throat and she gagged on it. ‘—why does this hurt so much?’

  ‘You dumped me. It makes no sense that you are hurt. It was just some fucking, nothing serious.’

  ‘Bianca. It wasn’t just fucking to me. I care about you.’

  ‘Hold on. What? That’s not what I thought you’d say.’ She crossed her arms and stepped away from him.

  ‘Neither. I came out here to tell you how important you are to Homage and please don’t leave.’

  The queasy feeling in her gut grew. ‘Do you care about me? Or do you care about Homage and how my work impacts on Homage?’

  ‘Can’t I have both?’

  She held up her hands, palms towards him. ‘I don’t know. Homage is your dream. If this is going to work out between us, I need to feature higher in your life than purely my role in your desires and goals for Homage. If we ar
e going to be partners—not just temporary fuck buddies—and if you really care for me, then you’ll do more to alter the balance of power between us.’

  ‘I already gave you half of the TV show.’

  She blew out a loud breath. ‘Which is great, but also conflicting. I never really got a choice about the TV show. It was supposed to be all you, and now the whole premise relies on how we talk to each other. It’s a lot of pressure on me.’

  ‘I understand.’ He tugged his earlobe. ‘You want me to be less bossy?’

  A surprised chuckle rumbled out of Bianca. ‘Hell no. I love it when you are bossy. Confidence is my thing, it’s so hot.’

  ‘I’m confused. You want equality and you want me to boss you about? How does that work?’

  She leaned down and plucked some weeds from the garden beside them. ‘I’m confused too. I guess I don’t know what I want.’

  ‘I have no such uncertainty. I want Homage. I want my own TV show. And I want you. But I don’t think it’s possible to have everything.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Etienne paced in a small circle without answering before he turned and glared at her. She wanted to protest—his feelings weren’t her fault.

  ‘Anvita says I can’t have the TV show if I’m fucking you. Apparently, it makes me too boring on screen, so I have to choose between hurting you and having my dreams fulfilled.’

  ‘And God forbid that someone calls you boring.’ Bianca’s heart clenched. It was true. Etienne would rank his goals above her.

  ‘Boring. That’s not the problem. She wants chemistry between us, not happy contented looks. How can I throw tension at the cameras when all I want is to worship you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Etienne. You make it sound impossible. When you figure it out, you know where to find me. But don’t take too long. I’m not sure I have the patience to wait while you resolve your ambitions.’ She threw the weeds into a compost bin and marched to her car. A headache started to throb behind her eyes. For once, she just wanted to be asked for her opinion before people made decisions on her behalf.