Page 77 of Lost Track

He was sooo easy to fluster. And if she thought for one second that he was legitimately upset she would stop. But he was going to be this intense either way, so she may as well have fun with it.

Just a little.

He’d arrived exactly on time at five in the morning with a canvas bag of cooking accessories and a garment bag. He was wearing khaki pants and a long sleeve tee which he said was in case it got messy.

Meanwhile she’d been in what she called “wake up wear.” Gray and red flannel pajama pants, fuzzy socks, red tank top.

Then he showed her how to properly use her French press because apparently, she’d been doing it wrong.

That was when he spotted the massive turkey chilling in the sink.

“Oh!” She remembered something. “I have this countertop roaster we could use!” She spun around, eyes searching for Kara.

Kara was also in her pajamas—turkey themed, orange, red, and yellow—and sitting at the island, her chin propped on her fist, hair in a tall pineapple, sleepily watching them.

“Do you know where we put that roaster?” she asked.

Kara rubbed an eye with the heel of her hand. “Um. I think it’s in the storage unit. Upstairs.”

“Right.” As soon as she said it, the memory of Sabine shoving the box to the back of the storage unit sprang to mind. Ugh. She was going to have to put real shoes on.

“You think it’ll hold this monstrosity?” Max asked, smacking the turkey resting in the sink.

Sabine stared at the bird, not sure at all. “We have to try.”

“Yeah, we do,” he agreed with a grumble.

“Not it.”

Max and Sabine looked at Kara who cradled the coffee cup in front of her.

“Not it,” she repeated.

Sabine stuck her tongue out at her.

Max glanced back and forth between them. “What? Is your storage unit in the depths of hell?”

Kara made a choking sound.

Sabine pressed her lips together and looked between the bird and the oven, rethinking her idea. She really didn’t want to go into the storage unit.

But it was obvious the turkey would never fit in the oven. Even if they took out both racks and shoved really hard.

She didn’t have a choice.

She turned back to Kara. “Can I borrow your goalie mask?”

Kara nodded once and slid off the stool.

“Goalie mask?” Max asked, incredulous. “I thought she was a nanny.”

Kara came back and handed over the mask. “I play on an amateur rec team.”

“And you’re the goalie?” Max asked, still confused. “What kind of rabbit hole have I fallen down?”

“What? The women in your world don’t fight their own battles?” Kara asked innocently.

Max’s chin jerked back. “That’s not what I…” He glanced between the two women like he was caught in a trap. “I am all turned around.”

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