Page 44 of All We Need

Sautéed onions, garlic, and fennel fill the room with a mouthwatering scent.Thisis my sanctuary—whereIcook freely, without boundaries or criticism.Iown these flavors.Thisrecipe.Thiskitchen.

I’m measuring out a cup of risotto, when a shuffling from outside makes me pause.Mostof the lights are out, except the overhead in the kitchen, and the curtains are drawn.Noone would dare venture out in this weather.Guessingit’s a possum or raccoon seeking shelter on the porch,Iignore it.

The rice goes in,Iadd a splash of white wine, then cover with stock.Thelid hovers above the pan when a thump vibrates through the house.

Bigger than a possum then.

Not wanting a moose to damage anything,Iwalk over to the front door and bang my fist against the wood, hoping to scare it off.

Instead,I’mmet with a loud, feminine gasp.

I’m yanking the door open without thinking, andImeet the nozzle end of a pepper spray bottle.Forgettingall survival instincts,Iraise my hands and screech like a banshee.Thehigh-pitched noise sheds me of all masculinity points.

“Skatá!Booth!”Alyshouts and lowers her weapon. “Ialmost maced you!”

“Yep.”Ibend over, hands on my knees, heart racing uncontrollably. “Tellthat to my blood pressure.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asks, less scared but equally confused.

“I might ask you the same thing?”It’spitch black outside, andIdon’t see any other vehicles next to my truck. “Howdid you get here?”

She dismisses my question, and strolls past me, which is whenInotice the oversized suitcase dragging behind her asIclose the door. “Um, going somewhere?”

“No.Butyou are.Thisis my rental.”Sheturns to face me, hands on her hips.

“Nice try, butI’mserious.Whyare you here?Didsomething happen at the restaurant?”

Her eyes narrow. “Areyou following me?”

A bark of laughter erupts from me. “Iwas here first.Didyou miss the turn forHell?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose and mutters, “Giveme strength,” before looking back up at me. “Iwas due to fly home this morning, but all flights are grounded.I’vehardly spent any time out of the town, and it seemed like a good opportunity to paint—”Shestops herself, face turning wry. “It’sjust better than sitting home alone.Ireserved five nights at the…”Pullingout her phone, she scans the screen.

Please don’t sayTheNook.Pleasedon’t sayTheNook.

“TheNook.”

Son of a sea biscuit.

She catches my reaction. “What?Thisisn’tTheNook.”Shesteps forward, eyes flaring. “TellmeItook a wrong turn.”

“Did you happen to book through a guy calledDexterMoore?”

“Mm-hmm.”Hereyes are pleading, but she knows whatI’mgoing to say.

“Then welcome home.”Witha grimace,Iraise my hands out to my sides. “I’llbe your host.”

“No.No.I’mgoing to book somewhere else.”Shetaps away at her phone, mumbling something inGreek. “Whereis the nearest motel?”

“Ten miles east of you’re-not-driving-anywhere-in-this-storm.”Ihave her beat, because my eyebrow is already raised. “Youcan argue with me aboutliterallyanything else, but not this.”

“And you became my keeper when?”

“Believe me, you are not to be kept.ButItake responsibility for your safety when you’ve never experienced the winters here.Letalone in the middle of nowhere, where it could take days to find your overturned car.”Ipause. “Whereisyour car?”

In lieu of a response, she raises her chin.

“Alessandra,”Igrowl. “Where’syour car?”

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