Page 59 of Reckless
“Playing it safe is the smartest call when it comes to protecting the things that are most important.” But as soon as the words fell from Zoe’s lips, she heard how flimsy they sounded. After all, she’d never have a shot at the Collingsworth Grant if she stuck solely to the sidewalk, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have spent any time with Alex without a risk or two. “Most of the time. Usually. Ugh, old habits die hard.”
Rachel nodded. “Now that, I hear loud and flipping clear. I work in a firehouse. We’re all about protecting what’s important. But for what it’s worth, Alex really does seem to want to help you.” She paused to waggle her brows. “In both the kitchen and the bedroom.”
“He is, uh…pretty helpful,” Zoe conceded, unable to cage her grin.
“I see. And how helpful would that be, exactly?”
“Let’s just say his quick tongue isn’t limited to fast-talking, and as far as his enthusiasm is concerned, there are no hard limits.”
Whether it was the goodness welling up in her chest or the look of pure shock dominating Rachel’s face, Zoe couldn’t be certain. But she let out a rare giggle, another one following on its heels, and pretty soon, she and Rachel were lost in a fit of laughter. Pressing her lips together so hard that they tingled, Zoe tried her best to take a deep breath and smooth herself back into seriousness, but then Rachel’s attempt to inhale became a snort, and another wave of giggles had them both clutching at their sides and gasping for air.
Which was exactly how Alex found them when he knocked on the door to Zoe’s office thirty seconds later.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, peering past the door frame with a look caught halfway between awe and primal fear.
“Not at all,” Zoe sputtered. A fresh peal of laughter tickled behind her breastbone, but thankfully Rachel stepped in to save her bacon.
“I should be going anyway. Let me know if you need any help coordinating the first round of pickups for the food drive. I’m happy to pitch in. Especially at the bookstore.” She gave Zoe a covert wink before squeezing past Alex to saunter from the office, and it took all of Zoe’s effort to keep a (mostly) straight face.
“Do I even want to know what that was all about?” Alex asked, his blue eyes going for the full-on crinkle factor as he leaned against the door frame to smile at her.
“Probably not.” Better to stick to the truths she could tell. Without blushing, anyway. “So what’s up in the kitchen? I heard you guys were on delivery duty.”
Alex nodded, tipping his chin over one shoulder toward the kitchen. “Yeah, Cole and Brennan and I just inventoried and stored the last couple cartons of produce. We were going to head out to start delivering collection boxes for the food drive, but I didn’t see any volunteers on the schedule for lunch prep. Did you want us to stick around instead?”
Zoe pushed up from her chair. “Nah. I’m glad to be making headway on this grant proposal, but if I don’t take a break from Mount Paperwork, I’m going to lose my cookies.” The thought of getting hands-on with the food, even for something as simple and seamless as lunch prep, made her smile, and Zoe smoothed the hem of her red T-shirt into place over her jeans as she aimed herself at the door.
Alex caught her by the elbow, the grab seemingly innocent even though she felt the tingle all the way up her arm. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?” he asked, but she just laughed in reply.
“Of course. That’s not to say I won’t miss you in the kitchen.” The corners of her mouth lifted along with her brows. “But I’m pretty sure I can handle lunch service on my own.”
“Believe me,” Alex said, sending a ribbon ofooohhhhh yeahthrough her chest as his fingers glided up her arm to play softly at her shoulder. “I’m not asking because I think you can’t manage. I know how tough you are.”
Zoe melted into his touch. “Then why are you asking?” she asked, chasing the question with way more sigh than sass. But his hands felt so good, suddenly holding her tight and cupping her face, that she blew past every last one of her caution sensors to let him pull her in.
“Because.” He dropped his forehead to hers, his lips enticingly close. “I’ve got your back. That’s why.”
“I know.”
Alex’s eyes went wide, but Zoe erased his surprise with a slant of her mouth. Letting someone care for her was risky, she knew.
But with the heat of his arms and the promise of his smile around her, trusting Alex to guard her kitchen felt too damn good for her to do anything other than let him.
“I know,” Zoe repeated, pressing up to the toes of her kitchen clogs to kiss him one more time before turning toward the kitchen.
* * *
Zoe leanedover the two deep-bellied pots perched over the front burners on the stove, stirring the vegetable stock in first one, then the other, before seasoning them both with her secret mix of dried herbs and spices. After spending the last few weeks with Alex right next to her at Hope House, the kitchen felt eerily quiet as she moved through the steps of prepping lunch all by herself. But he’d promised to be back by the end of the meal service, and Millie and Ellen would be arriving in less than an hour. Once she got new funding in place, Zoe would be able to hire a few more part-timers to help balance out the schedule, and they’d be able to fill the dining room to the rafters, seven days a week. Then quiet like this would probably become a hot commodity, she thought with a laugh. She should probably take advantage of the peace while she could.
The more Zoe chopped and tasted and stirred, the more the food calmed her, smoothing out the exhaustion of the last week—hell, the last few months, really—and replacing it with something brighter. Something she’d not only been missing since she’d moved back to Fairview, but something she’d needed fundamentally for even longer than that.
Hope.
“Hey, sugar plum.” Tina’s voice tipped Zoe from her reverie, snagging her attention as her co-director pushed through the double doors leading in from the dining room. “I found this handsome gentleman out by the front desk, and thought you might be able to put him to work.”
“Dad?” Shock wheeled through her from belly to breastbone. “What are you doing here?”
Her father’s eyes took a split-second tour of the kitchen before landing on hers. “I’m not on shift today, and I know you’ve got a lot of work to do in only a little time. So I thought”—he paused, gesturing to the twin stockpots on the cooktop at her hip—“maybe you could use some help.”
