Page 76 of The Woman in the Garage

“And you smelled food… so you broke in.”

“Not breaking in if the front door was unlocked.”

That was… fair.

I’d been too worried about getting Dasha upstairs and taken care of that I’d forgotten to do the one thing that would have made her safe.

“Should lock your doors.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, taking the pot of noodles over to the sink to strain and toss them.

“Wasting food.”

“It’s slop at this point.”

“You forget you were cooking?” Dom shoved another forkful of mushy noodles into his mouth, making me cringe.

“No. I had an emergency.”

“You alright?” he asked, gaze doing a quick up-down to check for himself.

“It was... a work emergency. Sort of.”

“Shoulda called me.”

“Didn’t have much time,” I said, sticking the empty pots in the dishwasher, then getting my menus out of the drawer.

I had no idea what Dasha liked for Chinese, sushi, Mexican, or Indian. So I was just going to order from Lucky’s place, since I knew she loved everything she’d tried there.

“That’s a lot of food for one,” Dom said when I finished calling the order in. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a twinge of hope in his voice—like he was counting on me inviting him to stay for more food.

“Three,” I clarified.

“Having company?”

It was just then I heard the steps creak as Dasha made her way down.

“Oh, you gotcompany?” he asked, looking like he was about to pop out of his seat and see himself out.

And, hey, if I went years in a prison cell, I would probably be that respectful of someone else getting pussy too.

“Back here, sweetheart,” I called. “My cousin popped by,” I added, not wanting her to be surprised to find someone else around.

“Hey,” she greeted Dom, lips turning up a bit, but she was quick to duck her head, not wanting a stranger to look at her damaged face.

“Dasha, this is my cousin Domenico. Dom, this is Dasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dasha said, letting me hook an arm around her and pull her against my side.

Dom made a grunting noise in response as he dropped back down on his chair to attack his pasta once more.

“I ordered from Lucky’s,” I told her. “Feeling any better after the bath?”

“I’m just tired,” she admitted.

“Here, I’ll tuck you in on the couch while we wait for the food. I want to get something in your stomach before you go to bed,” I told her, leading her back out to the living room. “I have all the streaming channels,” I told her, placing the remote next to her as she climbed up on the couch. “And…” I trailed off as I went into the hall closet, finding the housewarming gift from one of my cousin’s wives—a fancy, soft, cashmere blanket in an off-white color—and bringing it back to the couch. “As promised, a blanket.”

“Thank you,” Dasha said, giving me a soft smile as I tucked her in. “Am I not allowed to sleep?” she asked.

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