Page 218 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

It’s my turn to raise my eyebrows at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “How about we take a break for a bit and eat something?”

“Well… I’m almost done with the stovetop,” I tell him. “But we’ll need gas.”

“Way ahead of you,” Artem says. “I bought a gas cylinder from town.”

“Why don’t you get that set up, and I’ll work on dinner?”

“I can help,” he offers.

I smile. “Don’t worry. I can manage.”

He doesn’t argue too much, as he goes back out to the car to get the gas cylinder. While he sorts the stove out, I look through the supplies he’s brought for us.

Since we don’t have a working refrigerator, they’re all food items that can be stored at room temperature without going bad. Artem’s also bought us a small supply of vegetables, some olive oil, and a large pot and pan.

I pull out a packet of pasta, as my meal plan for tonight takes shape. Once Artem has the stove set up, he gives me a kiss on the temple on his way out and I get to work.

I boil some pasta and use the frying pan to get a sauce going. I cut up tomatoes and mushrooms and add that to the sauce to help build flavor.

I have limited ingredients so I have to think on my feet, but I find that I’m really enjoying myself.

When the pasta’s finished, I look around for plates and realize that we don’t have any. I check around for Artem, realizing that I haven’t seen him in a bit.

No sign outside, either.

I’m on the verge of panicking when I hear footsteps coming up from a steep slope directly in front of the cabin.

“Artem?” I call nervously.

He steps into view and gives me a broad smile.

“Where did you go?” I ask. “I thought you’d finished scouting the area.”

“I did,” he nods. “Which is how I found the perfect little spot for us to have our dinner tonight.”

I frown, walking closer to him.

And that’s when I see it: there’s a narrow footpath that leads down the slope towards a flat surface that almost looks like a lookout point.

I realize that Artem’s taken the porch table and both chairs down there and set up a little outdoor dining area for the two of us.

“Wow,” I breathe.

“You like it?”

“It’ll do,” I tease. “I’ll bring the frying pan down.”

“The frying pan?” Artem asks, with confusion.

“Oh… well we don’t have plates,” I explain. “So we’ll just have to eat out of the frying pan.”

He laughs. “I guess there’s still a lot we need to stock up on, huh?”

“We might need a fridge at some point, too,” I tell him. “That is, if you want a little more variety in your meals. And if you wanna, you know, avoid salmonella.”

He laughs. “You get the frying pan and I’ll get the drinks?”

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