17. Booth
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
booth
She’s freaking out.
Or maybe I’m freaking out.
Either way, it’s been tense since I walked back into the cabin with arms full of firewood.
We both showered—separately.
I made us lunch, and now thick, awkward silence hangs in the air.
I know little about Aly —she prefers it that way—but her internalized thoughts were written across her face.
If there was one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to push her.
She was a willing participant—so fucking willing and gorgeous.
I gave her the opportunity to say no, and she made it very clear where we stood afterward.
The error I made was diving headfirst into this complex pool of feelings, without a life preserver.
But my god, was she glorious.
She owned it. The room.
Her body. Me . It was a struggle to get air in when I watched her take control of her pleasure.
If I had died then, and the sight of her fucking herself on the toy was the last thing I saw, so be it.
Half of me was joking when I dared her to prove it.
The other was ravenous.
So when she rose to the challenge, it shocked the hell out of me, knocked me on my ass, and left me stunned and speechless.
Well, almost.
I also couldn’t help but spur her on and shower her with praise.
Because at that moment, we were strangers, like she’d said.
Not Booth the chef or Aly the owner.
Then the bubble burst and we were back to reality.
Since then, she’s avoided me, which is pretty hard in a small log cabin in the middle of nowhere.
As much as I like to push her buttons, it wouldn’t be wise today.
We have lunch, she reads her book on the sofa, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do.
I’m restless. I want to bring out my LEGO , but I’m also not in the mood for her to tease me like my brothers do.
Some might say it’s childish, but there’s something therapeutic about it.
The blizzard dies down, minutes tick by, and the silence becomes unbearable.
“We don’t have to talk about this morning, but I’m going out of my mind right now,” I blurt.
She peers at me over the pages curiously.
“ I’m not playing LEGO , but you’re free to do so.”
My brows slam down.
“ It’s not playing. It’s a collector’s item.”
She ignores my prickly tone.
“ Is it a hobby?”
“I’m not answering that if you’re going to roast me.” I pout.
My eyes fall to the table, feeling exposed.
Her book thuds closed then her socked feet appear in front of me.
“ I saw it at your apartment after we went lobster fishing, and again last night. I thought it was for your niece at first. Lottie , right? ”
I look up.
“ She wishes I’d let her play with my LEGO .”
“You see how you’re asking for me to poke fun at you, right?” She smirks, and perches on the sofa beside me.
To my surprise, she opens up the ottoman I stowed the half-built monument in last night and studies it.
“ This looks familiar.”
“Have you visited Italy ?” I ask.
She nods, then her eyes light up.
“ Nicola Salvi is rolling in his grave knowing his architecture has been minimized to tiny plastic blocks.”
“You know who Salvi is?”
“ You know who Salvi is?” she retorts.
Ignoring her jab, I pull out the structure and bag of remaining pieces.
“ I’m not some dumb chef, you know.”
“I—that’s…that’s not what I was implying, Booth .”
“Could have fooled me,” I mutter.
She sighs. “ Booth , I really do?—”
“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. That makes it weirder. We need to air it out before we bury it.”
The turn in conversation shocks her.
“ I thought we weren’t going to talk about it?”
I flick a beige block.
“ Yeah , well, I lied.”
She sighs and picks up a small black brick and studies the instructions I’ve laid out on the table.
“ We work together, that should make it obvious why it can’t happen again. Plus , you don’t even like me.”
My head snaps to the right.
“ I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. I’m not exactly your number one fan either.” She laughs.
Like a goldfish, my mouth opens and closes, but what do I say?
She’s not wrong. Forty -eight hours ago, we were ready to declare war.
Now , it’s clouded with contradictions.
What I’m about to ask might sound desperate, but I’m genuinely curious.
“ If you weren’t, you know—” I gesture at her .
“Your boss,” she finishes.
“I was going to say ‘ Medusa ,’ but sure, that works too.” I wink, and then I’m surprised for what feels like the hundredth time today.
Aly laughs. It’s bubbly, bright, and coaxes out a smile that has her teeth gleaming and eyes crinkling.
She looks quite cute.
I don’t tell her that, though, on account of me valuing my life.
“If you hadn’t bought the restaurant, and you happened into town randomly…” I lean forward, hands linked between my spread knees as I watch the flames of the fire dance and flicker.
“ Would this be different?”
“What do you mean?” Her tone is cautious.
“Would you have given me a chance?”
There, it’s out there now.
I’m aware I sound like a crushing high schooler, but after this morning, who can blame me?
When I finally chance a look at her, her attention is on the fireplace, too, her sharp features cast in a warm glow.
She’s deep in thought, and the longer she leaves me hanging, the less I think I’m going to like the answer.
Above the crackling I barely hear her.
“ I meant what I said; I’m only here temporarily.”
“And about me not being your type?”
I catch the corner of her mouth hitch up.
“ That might have been a fib, but I had good reason. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I’m toeing the line.
The need to get to know her is too strong to ignore, and inside these four walls, we’ve shed away the titles and disdain.
“When I asked what your plans were, you said you didn’t know. Is that still the case?”
She doesn’t flinch.
It’s her voice that gives away her wariness; a quality she rarely wears.
“ Bursting into the kitchen and announcing who I was might not have been my finest moment. I’d wanted to scope out the restaurant and the town first.” She casts me a side glance.
“ I know the industry inside and out. You might all think I’m some money-grabbing investor, but my family’s ethos isn’t about that. We’ve backed up plenty of family-owned hotels in the past and merged them into our chain. While this isn’t our typical investment, I wouldn’t risk putting money down on something I didn’t believe in.”
The truth shines bright in her words, but also leaves me with more questions.
“If we’re not a typical business for you to back, why did you?”
This question gets a reaction.
Her lips flatten and hands fiddle with the hem of her sweater.
A few errant curls escape, and before I know what I’m doing, I brush them away, the pads of my fingers lingering on the shell of her ear.
“Alessandra, why are you here?” I whisper.
It’s not accusatory, like the last time.
“Don’t ask me that, Booth . Go back to wanting me gone.”
My hand drops to rest on hers.
“ I’m not sure I can, unless you give me reason to. Do you not have an answer, or do you not want to share it with me?”
Give me something, you stubborn, stunning creature.
Maybe it’s the confines of this tiny cabin and the proximity we’ve been forced into.
Whatever it is, I want to crack her wide open to see all the beautiful, dangerous, secretive thoughts she keeps inside spill out.
I imagine it would reveal bold colors and moody strokes, like the paintings she creates.
Her lack of response leaves the air between us void of color.
She slips her hand out from under mine, spine going taut and eyes narrowing.
I curse myself for pushing her too far.
If I were to venture a guess, her reluctance to open up has nothing to do with me, but trust. Something I don’t think she gives out freely.
And suddenly, I’m desperate to earn it .
She stands and returns to her book before I can change the subject.
The pages flutter open as she cracks the spine.
With the snow having stopped, I escape and clear my truck before the sun sets.
Aly’s car is a short walk down the hill, and I clear it enough to drive it up to the cabin.
For every second I sit in her car and breathe in her intoxicating perfume, the angrier I become that I didn’t get a taste.
Fuck , I’d witnessed her spread out delectably, watched her come undone, came in my pants, and we didn’t even kiss.
Thank god it looks like we can leave soon, otherwise the temptation to press my lips to hers will drive me into a frenzy.
“Good news,” I call as I enter the cabin and shake the snow from my boots.
“ We should be out of here by tomorrow evening.”
Silence greets me.
My head snaps around, searching.
It doesn’t take me long to find her.
Standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, Aly is wrapped in a white fluffy towel, hair hanging heavy as it drips onto the floor.
Had I returned minutes earlier, would she have been hidden under a cascade of bubbles?
Pale skin flushed from the hot water, and face bare of makeup, she looks out at the wintery landscape.
The white glare of the snow through the glass has her appearing gossamer.
Like if I reached out and touched her, she’d float away.
All the more reason to hold her.
Jesus Christ , what is happening?
I need a stiff drink.
Or an intervention.
Coughing, I avert my gaze.
“ I can give you some space if you want,” I say, louder this time.
She spins, lips parted as if she forgot she wasn’t alone.
“Oh, no. It’s fine. Sorry , thought I’d take advantage of the tub while you were out. Thanks for moving my car.” She tugs at the towel.
“ So tomorrow?”
“As long as the storm doesn’t return, the roads should be safe.” I step closer until our shoulders are inches apart.
“ I’d feel better if I drove you back into town. I can bring you to get your car after Christmas or take you to the airport.”
“I don’t think I’ll make it back in time.” The sadness in her voice digs into my sternum.
Is she close to her family like I am with mine?
Not wanting to rub salt in the wound, I point to a tall conifer overshadowing the cabin.
“ See that tree? My brothers and I dared each other to climb it one year. I made it about fifteen feet before I fell, smack into the snow, and snapped my clavicle.”
Her airy laugh bounces off the glass.
“ Your poor parents. How the heck did they handle three unruly boys?”
I puff out my chest. “ Oh , this was three years ago. I was a big, brave boy. Didn’t even cry.”
“Oh my god.” She’s full on belly laughing now, bent at the waist as she tries to catch her breath.
It’s a mesmerizing sound.
Even lovelier to witness.
Leaning against the window, I drink her in.
If today is all we get before it’s back to reality, then I don’t want to waste a second.
“ Hey , Silver ?”
Swiping at her lashes, still grinning, she turns to me.
“ Yeah ?”
“Will you have dinner with me tonight? Word on the street is the chef is quite talented. And handsome.”
Her smile slowly retreats but doesn’t completely disappear.
It lingers on her blushing face and mixes with the indecisiveness swirling in her expression.
I pluck a damp curl off her shoulder and tap her on the nose with it, eliciting a scowl that holds zero malice.
“ We can split the bill at the end. Don’t make it weird. I’m not your type, remember?”
With a parting wink, I saunter into the kitchen and pull out the ingredients for mac and cheese.
She doesn’t respond, though I hear the rustling of clothes behind me as I mince the garlic.
I deserve ten gold stars for not taking a peek over my shoulder.
A few minutes later, she joins me beside the stove and peers around my shoulder.
She’s in those goddamn pajamas again.
The ones that are etched into my brain for an eternity.
Well , second to the sight of her out of them.
“What’s cooking?” Her tone is more relaxed compared to earlier.
My knife hovers above a clove as I look down at her, frowning.
“ You said it wrong.”
“Huh?”
“It’s ‘ What’s cookin’, good lookin’?’ Pfft , you’ve got a way to go around these parts, Miss Argiros .”
She flicks me on the ear before hopping onto the counter.
“ In your dreams.”
You sure are.
Distracting myself—because my 180-degree feelings are making me woozy— I finish up the garlic and get started on the roux.
“ There’s only one right answer to this question, so choose wisely.” I lean in, voice low.
“ Do you like lobster?”
A dark brow arches.
“ Of course.”
“Good girl. Maybe one day I’ll cook you that tuna tartare you love so much. Now , pass me that stick of butter, and in that cabinet behind your head, you should find some all-purpose flour.”
She passes me the ingredients from her spot, and we work in tandem, throwing digs and joking until the smell of gooey cheddar and nutty gruyère floats in the air.
Seated around the small dinner table, we eat in silence, sharing fleeting looks between bites.
It’s nice, peaceful.
And perhaps the most domesticated thing I’ve ever done.
Once the dishes are done, and our eyes grow heavy, we stare at the bed.
I hook a thumb over my shoulder.
“ I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want you crossing the danger zone again.”
She climbs in, then tosses a pillow at my head.
“ Get in, you goof. Spooning is PG after this morning’s show.”
I swear I try not to smile too wide as I slide in beside her.
“Sweet dreams, Silver .”
“Good night, Dimples . ”
Sadly, no boundaries are crossed in the middle of the night.
Pretty hard when there’s only one person in the bed.
I pretend to be asleep while she shuffles around.
When the front door clicks shut and her engine starts, I stare up at the ceiling.
A little disappointed, but mostly feeling like a fool.
Who knows how much time passes before I drag myself out of bed.
I’m half tempted to start a new fire and throw the note she left on the coffee table into the flames.
Booth,
The last few days were surprisingly the most fun I’ve had in a while.
Yesterday morning was…
I’ll let you fill in the blanks.
Thank you for distracting me when I couldn’t be with my family.
I’m hoping it doesn’t come as a surprise when I say yesterday shouldn’t have happened.
There’s no regret on my end, and you didn’t pressure me into anything.
It’s easier if I’m the boss you wish would disappear, and you’re the employee who lives to irritate me.
Merry Christmas ,
Silver
With the cabin locked up and my truck easing down the snowy road, I push all thoughts of her out of my head.
I can’t say I blame her.
She forewarned me.
By the time I reach my house, I’ve done the complete opposite.
My brain is flooded with her.
No life raft. No help.
No fucking clue what to do.