Hunted

Twenty-Two: A New Day

Matt rolled over, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. He stretched and smiled, feeling better rested than he had in months. His mind was dazed, not just from his night's rest, but also, due to the cloud of happiness that fogged his thoughts. Last night had been a small step, but it had been the first step, he hoped, to Charlotte viewing him in a new light, viewing him as something more than the reluctant founder's son.

With another stretch he pulled himself from the warmth of his bed, deciding to shower, before he went in search of breakfast. He dressed and brushed his teeth, gazing in the mirror - he needed to shave and get his hair cut, but only one he could remedy at that moment. He grabbed the razor and shaving foam, carefully tidying his face.

As he prepared himself for his day, he couldn't help but let his mind wander to Charlotte again. It seemed a half-dream, his memory of the night before, his memory of her lips. He couldn't help but smile, wondering where this new path would lead them. The mere thought alone made him feel stronger, more resilient.

He glanced at his watch as he strolled back into the bedroom, fixing his bed clothes and shoving on his shoes. He glanced at the mess that they had left on the table the night before, the dirty plates and mugs, the teapot, the small jug that had held the questionable milk. He frowned at the mess, before shrugging. He would worry about it later. All he knew now was that he wanted to see Charlotte. He wanted to see her before she started to overthink their kiss. She was most definitely going to overthink it.

Matt ran down the stairs, following it all the way to the kitchen, where he found Tabatha working at the table, kneading bread.

"Good morning Tabatha," Matt said fondly, moving to the larder without permission. Tabatha frowned up at him, blowing a loose, red curl from her forehead.

"Morning Matt," she said, returning her gaze to her dough. Matt grabbed a jar of jam from the larder and found some of yesterday's scones wrapped in a tea-towel.

"I'm just going to grab some of this," he said, taking a hasty bite out of one of the scones and grabbing the block of butter.

"You missed breakfast," Tabatha noted, her tone a little short.

"I did Tabatha," Matt agreed with a wink. "I'm afraid I slept in".

"Well for some," she sniffed, kneading again and again, knocking the air from the dough.

"It is, Tabatha, it is," Matt grinned, cutting open a scone and slathering it in butter and jam.

"A lot of food went to waste," she continued, her tone obviously irritated. "Between the lot of you I don't know why I bother". Matt grinned, knowing he could charm her easily, the woman who had worked in the house since he was a child.

"What do you mean Tabbie?" he asked, trying to soften her tone.

"Oh, I don't know - your grandmother and her black-coffee-only routine, your brother and his meagre appetite - that girl of his is even worse," she snapped, knocking the air from the dough.

"Rhian, you mean," Matt chuckled.

"Aye that one," Tabatha sniffed. "Then there's the tall lad. He eats a lot mind you. I won't complain about his appetite - good and strong," she nodded approvingly. "Then you and that other girl don't even show up. Here I find you eating scones and jam... that's no breakfast for anyone, Matthew". Matt had fallen still, the scone hanging mid-air as he watched her carefully.

"Tabbie what do you mean she never showed up?" Matt asked, trying to keep his tone level.

"I mean she's probably gone off on one of her runs or slept in like you, two lazy sods," she grumbled, dropping the dough into a large mental bowl and covering with a tea-towel, before placing the whole lot by the stove to rise.