15. Booth
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
booth
The storm arrives with a vendetta against Sutton Bay .
You can’t see two feet in front of you thanks to the wall of white blasting through the streets.
The town was prepared; coming together to help older residents stock up on food and essentials, and emergency kits and drinking water were handed out at the town hall.
Everyone was frustrated that it hit us three days before Christmas .
Flights across the Northeast were canceled, leaving people stranded and unable to spend the holidays with their loved ones.
The restaurant—like most businesses in town—is closed until it’s safe to reopen.
They’re hoping it’ll pass by Christmas Eve .
I knew I’d made a good call staying in The Nook .
Mom wasn’t too pleased, but she knew I’d be safe out here thanks to Dex’s apocalyptic prepping skills.
Last night, I drove to the cabin twenty minutes out of town.
After getting the key from the drop box, I hustled inside, started a fire, and unboxed my Trevi Fountain LEGO set.
With no TV , this was a quiet place of solitude to escape to .
Alessandra had been absent since she left my house.
I refused to ask where she was, and didn’t care.
Okay, so I cared a little.
Blame suspicion. Nothing else.
The Nook , like my house, is open plan.
But where I have a separate bathroom, Dex installed a bathtub out in the open overlooking the forest. The floor-to-ceiling window has no curtains, making you feel like you’re bathing in the wild.
Cedar covers the entire cabin, the reddish-brown wood creating a moody, rustic vibe.
There’s a small room with a toilet and sink, and the little kitchenette doesn’t have much space, but I make do.
Sautéed onions, garlic, and fennel fill the room with a mouthwatering scent.
This is my sanctuary—where I cook freely, without boundaries or criticism.
I own these flavors.
This recipe. This kitchen.
I’m measuring out a cup of risotto, when a shuffling from outside makes me pause.
Most of the lights are out, except the overhead in the kitchen, and the curtains are drawn.
No one would dare venture out in this weather.
Guessing it’s a possum or raccoon seeking shelter on the porch, I ignore it.
The rice goes in, I add a splash of white wine, then cover with stock.
The lid hovers above the pan when a thump vibrates through the house.
Bigger than a possum then.
Not wanting a moose to damage anything, I walk over to the front door and bang my fist against the wood, hoping to scare it off.
Instead, I’m met with a loud, feminine gasp.
I’m yanking the door open without thinking, and I meet the nozzle end of a pepper spray bottle.
Forgetting all survival instincts, I raise my hands and screech like a banshee.
The high-pitched noise sheds me of all masculinity points.
“Skatá! Booth !” Aly shouts and lowers her weapon.
“ I almost maced you! ”
“Yep.” I bend over, hands on my knees, heart racing uncontrollably.
“ Tell that 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’s pitch black outside, and I don’t see any other vehicles next to my truck.
“ How did you get here?”
She dismisses my question, and strolls past me, which is when I notice the oversized suitcase dragging behind her as I close the door.
“ Um , going somewhere?”
“No. But you are. This is my rental.” She turns to face me, hands on her hips.
“Nice try, but I’m serious. Why are you here? Did something happen at the restaurant?”
Her eyes narrow.
“ Are you following me?”
A bark of laughter erupts from me.
“ I was here first. Did you miss the turn for Hell ?”
She pinches the bridge of her nose and mutters, “ Give me strength,” before looking back up at me.
“ I was due to fly home this morning, but all flights are grounded. I’ve hardly spent any time out of the town, and it seemed like a good opportunity to paint—” She stops herself, face turning wry.
“ It’s just better than sitting home alone. I reserved five nights at the…” Pulling out her phone, she scans the screen.
Please don’t say The Nook .
Please don’t say The Nook .
“The Nook .”
Son of a sea biscuit.
She catches my reaction.
“ What ? This isn’t The Nook .” She steps forward, eyes flaring.
“ Tell me I took a wrong turn.”
“Did you happen to book through a guy called Dexter Moore ?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes are pleading, but she knows what I’m going to say .
“Then welcome home.” With a grimace, I raise my hands out to my sides.
“ I’ll be your host.”
“No. No . I’m going to book somewhere else.” She taps away at her phone, mumbling something in Greek .
“ Where is the nearest motel?”
“Ten miles east of you’re-not-driving-anywhere-in-this-storm.” I have her beat, because my eyebrow is already raised.
“ You can argue with me about literally anything else, but not this.”
“And you became my keeper when?”
“Believe me, you are not to be kept. But I take responsibility for your safety when you’ve never experienced the winters here. Let alone in the middle of nowhere, where it could take days to find your overturned car.” I pause.
“ Where is your car?”
In lieu of a response, she raises her chin.
“Alessandra,” I growl.
“ Where’s your car?”
The stubborn thing just glowers at me.
That’s when I spot her jeans, soaked through up to her knees with clumps of snow sticking to her shoes.
Concern replaces my anger and I scan her over.
“ Is that what happened? Did your car go off the road? Are you okay?”
The fight ebbs out of her posture at my anxious tone.
“ I’m fine.” Her gaze lowers and she chews her lip.
“ My tires got stuck in the snow. I didn’t have to walk far, don’t worry.”
“Well, too late for that. I am.” Gently , I grip her arm and steer her toward the fire.
This close, I see her hair is dripping and cheeks are bright red from the cold.
“ Sit and warm up. Take those jeans off too.”
“Nice try,” she mumbles but doesn’t pull away.
I move to the small chest of drawers, grab a pair of sweats, and toss them to her.
“I have my own clothes.”
Sighing, I rub at my eyes with the heels of my hands.
“ Wear them. Don’t wear them. Just get out of those wet clothes.” My head flops forward in defeat.
“ Please . ”
Her frown melts away.
She fiddles with the drawstring on the sweats and then does something really weird.
“Thank you, Booth .”
Then surprise strikes twice when a soft smile graces her lips.
Gratitude and a smile.
Am I in the twilight zone?
I don’t like what the tilt of her rosy lips does to me.
How smile lines crease the flawless skin on her cheeks.
It’s subtle and all in her eyes.
They glisten with the embers of the fire, making everything else appear dull and lifeless in comparison.
I don’t like it because it makes me want to like her.
Makes me wish we met under different circumstances.
Throwing a thumb over my shoulder, I back up toward the kitchen.
“ I’ll give you some privacy.”
With her distracted, I quickly hide my LEGOs then stir the pot of risotto and pretend I don’t hear the teeth of her zipper or the sound of wet jeans hitting the floor with a slap.
I certainly don’t imagine my sweats gliding up her long legs or kissing the dip of her waist either.
The pad of bare feet nears closer.
“It smells good. What are you making?” she asks softly.
“Fennel and lemon risotto. There’s plenty to go around.” I twist to look at her.
And shit. This is not good.
She’s rolled up the waistband of the sweats and has stripped off all her layers to reveal a faded gray Princeton T -shirt.
She’s a little less put together, with flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and wild hair.
One word: breathtaking.
“You hungry?” My voice cracks and I cough into my fist to hide it.
Her nose twitches as she eyes the simmering pot.
“ I could eat.”
“Wine? ”
“Please.”
I nod once.
Twenty minutes and some shaved Parmigiano Reggiano later, we settle in front of the fire, each with a hearty bowl of piping hot risotto.
We’re silent, uncertain about how to navigate this.
Until she takes her first bite and moans around her spoon.
The sound goes straight to my dick.
I push it to the back of my brain.
But then she does it again.
Louder.
Then again.
I break the silence.
If I don’t, I will break.
“ Are you enjoying that?”
That much is fucking obvious, you idiot.
She nods enthusiastically.
“ It’s melting in my mouth. I need more.”
Did that sound dirty, or did I make it dirty?
Rather than responding, I opt for more silence.
And pray for a pair of earplugs to block out her little moans of pleasure.
Once our dishes are empty, bellies full, and Aly has stopped making inappropriate noises around utensils, we stare at each other.
Before the tension can creep in between us again, I offer her an explanation about why I’m here.
“Dexter— Dex —is Patrick’s best friend. Though , he’s basically like a third brother. He owns a bunch of cabins all over, but this one is usually left unreserved for family and friends. It was safer for me to stay here during the storm than my house. I’m not sure how it happened, but he’s obviously double booked it. I have texts to prove tha?—”
“I believe you.” She relaxes into the sofa.
“ Earlier I was hungry, tired, and cold. I know I’m not the only one, but I was…sad about not being able to spend the holidays with my family. ”
She sounds guilty for being sad.
“I get it. I’d be down if I couldn’t spend it with mine too.”
“So we’re really stuck up here?” she asks.
I take a big gulp of Rioja , then raise my glass to her.
“ Until the storm passes, yes.”
She returns the gesture.
“ Here’s hoping there’s plenty of wine. If all meals are like that, I won’t complain. It was delicious.”
“Careful. Someone might hear you and think you like me.” I smirk.
She rolls her eyes.
As if sensing another argument, the vintage cuckoo clock on the wall whistles, scaring Aly , who almost drenches herself in wine.
“ Good god. That thing is hideous. Please tell me it doesn’t do that all night?”
“It doesn’t. Actually , it’s broken, so no one knows when it’s going to go off.” I rise, stretching and bending side to side.
When Aly’s gaze falls to my exposed stomach, I’m not ashamed to say my movements become exaggerated.
Before I can tease her, a yawn breaks free, and I decide we’ve both had enough for the day.
“ I’m beat. You take the bed.”
She looks at the queen-size bed in the corner of the room and then the two-seater sofa.
“ Will you fit?”
“I always make it fit.” She’d deny it, but when I wink at her, a redness creeps up her neck.
“You’re an idiot.”
While she gets ready for bed in the small bathroom, I grab a spare pillow and blanket to make up my bed.
It will actually be a very tight fit, and I’m not looking forward to it, but hopefully we can escape our prison soon.
When Aly emerges, I thank my lucky stars she’s not donning a little silk negligee.
Her deep red pajamas cover most of her, and her curls are piled on top of her head.
I use the bathroom, and when I return, she’s peeling back the covers .
“Right, well, good night,” she says softly.
“Sweet dreams, Silver . Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Or do. See if I care.”
She flashes me her middle finger before I switch off the lights and fold myself in half to fit on the sofa.
Fuck being a gentleman.
I blame the woman who raised me for offering up the bed.
My legs are numb, there’s a spring shafting me in the ass, and my back will never be the same.
Groaning, I toss. Then turn.
And for good measure, toss again.
The wooden legs of the sofa creak with my movements.
“Booth, I swear to god, if you make another noise I will make you wish you never existed,” a frustrated voice hisses at me.
“I’m already there. Go back to sleep,” I whisper-shout.
“I haven’t slept. Your moaning has kept me up.”
“I’ve never had a woman complain before.”
The rolling of her eyes might as well be audible.
Silence resumes until I hear rustling bedsheets, followed by a deep exhale.
“ Get in the bed.”
She doesn’t need to ask me twice.
It’s a good thing the dark hides my delighted smile or she might maim me.
“ Aren’t you going to buy me dinner first?” My joke falls flat, but I don’t push it.
I practically nosedive onto the mattress, huddle underneath the covers, and sigh happily.
Rolling over, I find her viperous stare aimed my way.
A streak of moonlight lights up her scrunched brow and pouty lips.
I’m hit with the rich scent of her, picking up notes of sage and lavender.
“Hands and feet to yourself.” She slashes an arm down the middle of the bed.
“ Do not cross this barrier. Not even a pinky.”
I lie on my back, folding my hands behind my head, and shut my eyes.
I still feel her glowering at me.
“ I know better than to go into shark-infested waters. Good night, Silver .”
The mattress shifts as she harrumphs and gets comfortable.
It takes no time at all to fall asleep.
And the last thought that crosses my mind is that I can’t choose which I like more.
Her heated scowl because of my dumb jokes or the softer side she tries to hide that somehow makes her more beautiful.