Page 8 of All We Need

My finger hovers aboveMartinWillis’sname.

We’ve only communicated via email and allIknow about him is that he lives on the outskirts of town, provides local businesses with freshly grown produce, and owns several commercial and residential properties inSuttonBay.

Quite the businessman.

It’s ten p.m., onThanksgiving.Hemust be with his family.Hewon’t want me bothering him over some?—

“Quinn!”Thewoman’s bloodcurdling scream slices through the silent night, shaking the windowpanes.Whenthe sound of glass smashing and a large thud follows, my thumb tapsMartin’sname without hesitation.

It rings a few times before his sleepy voice greets me. “Hello?”

Unease swirls deep in my stomach, butIpush it aside. “Hi,Martin.It’sAlessandraArgiros.Imoved into the apartment abo?—”

“Oh.Yes.Alessandra.”Ihear rustling. “Iseverything okay?”

“It’s, umm, no, it’s not actually.There’sa woman here.I’mnot sure who.”Ipeek outside again and hear her murmured grumblings. “Shethrew something through the window of the bakery.”

“Shoot.Right, stay upstairs and call nine-one-one.I’llbe there in five.”

He hangs up beforeIcan respond, andIdo as he says.

By the timeI’vefinished explaining to the police dispatcher, a truck pulls up outside.Thecops are close behind, and the situation is deescalated—though the woman doesn’t go down without a fight.

I stay put, peeping out of my window in my pajamas, when the buzzer to my apartment has me jumping out of my skin.

Crap.Whatif it’sMartin?I’mnot in the mood to meet him in person today.Orever.

Pleading that it’s the police,Iunlock the front door, jog down the stairs, and unlatch the door leading onto the street.

My eyes go wide, and so do my visitor’s when the door swings open.

Booth’s mouth slackens before his gaze tracks slowly down my body.Myskin warms and nipples pebble under his stare.It’sthenIrememberI’min a skimpy set of silk pajamas.Sansrobe.

“It’s you.”Hisbrows furrow in confusion, snowflakes cling to his lashes as he points up the stairs. “Youlive here?”

“That’s correct.”Iroll my shoulders. “Andwhy are you standing outside?”

He huffs a laugh of disbelief. “Martinasked me to check on the tenant upstairs.”Hishead jerks to the right, andIfollow to see the shards of glass strewn across the sidewalk. “Mybrother’s girlfriend,Quinn, ownsJustBrewIt.We’rehere to help.”

A pang of guilt strikes me.Thatexplains the name being shouted through the street. “Oh.Right.Isshe okay?”

He shrugs wearily. “Shocked, which isn’t surprising.Grahamwill take her home once they’re finished up with the sheriff.”

It’s thenIsee a small figure, draped in a large coat, with a tall man hugging her tightly while they chat to the police.

“Is there anythingIcan do?”Myeyes remain on the couple.

“Nah.We’vegot it.Buta buddy of mine,Dex, he’ll be doing some work tomorrow morning to cover up the window.Itmight get noisy.”

“Right.Yeah.That’snot a problem.”

I rub my hands over my biceps, and despite the biting cold, neither of us makes a move.

“This isn’t normal.”Hisvoice is timid as he shifts awkwardly on his feet.Hesees the question in my face. “Peoplesmashing windows and screaming through town.You’resafe here.Incase you were worried.Iknow the town, andIlive close by…if you ever need to call someone.”

My face heats for a totally different reason.We’recomplete strangers, yet he’s out here trying to look after me.

Except for my father and brothers, men have always had a habit of seeing me as the weaker sex.Throughcollege.Duringmy internship.Oncepromoted to senior associate.

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