Page 15 of Whisked Away By the Alien

“To fry the latkes, you’ll need the largest skillet, not the one my mom tried to kill you with.”

Before I have the chance to tell him where to find the pan, he moves like lightning through the kitchen and withdraws the largest skillet from the correct cabinet. No guessing involved. He must have memorized the contents of every drawer before I walked in here this morning. Even if he doesn’t know how to use all the various utensils and cookware, he clearly likes to learn his surroundings.

One by one, Stenikov opens the spices I’ve taken out of the pantry and smells them. He scrunches his nose. “These are interesting.”

“That’s rosemary and thyme for the soup tomorrow. We’re lucky to have them. Part of the benefit of working in the warehouse. The workers get first pick of items coming in. We still have to pay for them, but we don’t have to go through any middle men, which lowers the cost. The warehouse where I work only deals in packaged foods, nothing fresh, as well as clothing, tools, and raw materials. The government only concerns itself with technology, leaving medicine to the black market and everything else to those brave enough to build businesses and stand up to the Brotherhood. Given his job, my dad has some pull with the government. Like the year Mom wanted honey for Rosh Hashanah. Honey’s a luxury item, more than sugar. One of dad’s friends tracked down a bottle a few states away and shipped it in on the next military transport.”

“I read your father is a scientist working for a private company, not the government.”

“His company does a lot of work for the government. Wait… where did you read about him?”

“The file on your family.”

“We have a file?”

“Routine procedure. Earth Intelligence compiles information on families of scientists.”

“I should have guessed that. Our leaders rule mostly by fear these days, with an emphasis on ensuring the best of everything—natural resources, people, technology—goes toward securing the planet. Anything that helps prevent another invasion gets top priority.”

“That is the only reason your leaders tolerate non-humans. They need Galactic Intelligence’s help. We are only welcome here as long as we can provide value. Even then, I do not believe your people trust us. But this is not something I say to other humans.”

“Very politically wise of you not to say that to people you don’t know. Except you don’t really know me, which means you’re taking a chance trusting me.”

His horns move slightly while the rest of him remains as still as a statue. I probably shouldn’t have said that, but the fact that he trusts me warms me. Just the same, I should make him feel welcome. Being on a new world with no support nearby has to be daunting, even for a warrior.

“I see why you’re in Galactic Intelligence. You’re exceedingly smart. You’ve passed part one of the test,” I tease.

“The test?”

“An informal checklist my parents have to see if a guy is qualified to marry me.” I can’t believe I just said that! My motherhadto go there and plant that idea in my head. Clearly, she’s not the only one without a filter!

Sten’s eyes widen and his horns twist at the tops. “I’m not here to mate you.”

“Sorry! I’m not saying that! Hell, I don’t know what I’m saying. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” That grin returns. I must admit, I don’t want to see it fade. He’s cute and funny. Yeah, he makes me nervous, but in a good way.

I pinch my thumb and forefinger together, leaving a small space between. “Just a little. You’re so…” How do I tell the guy he’s hot, that he’s way out of my league, especially when he seems so perfect? Sure, the horns take some getting used to, but they’re rather flirtatious the way they move up and back, and twist at the tops. If I’m reading him correctly, the movement is tied to his emotions. The more I talk with Sten, the more I realize how very human he is.

“I’m so what?” he asks.

“Tall.” I throw the first adjective out that I can think of. Thank God I didn’t say hot-as-fuck. I want to know him better, but I’m going to scare him off if I say what I’m thinking.

I suck at the whole dating thing. And flirting’s not exactly my strong suit. But I’m not one to quit, not when I see something I want. Move over chocolate pudding, I’ve found something else I’d rather eat.

Good God, Golda, what is your problem? And in Mom’s kitchen? She could burst in here any time—again!

“Being tall is an advantage in fighting,” Sten says.

I look up at the top shelf, to where my dad put the box grater, and I now understand where height has its advantages in cooking, too. But that stubborn part of me doesn’t want to admit it and ask for Sten’s help. I think it’s a knee-jerk reaction from working alongside men in a warehouse. Show one bit of weakness, even attempt to ask for help, and they believe they’re entitled topayment. As I see it, there’s always a work-around in life, you just have to get creative.

I clear my throat. “How about you make the latkes?”

“Can you provide instructions?”

“Use the medium holes on that grater up there to shred the potatoes.” I point to the box grater before shoving my sleeves up and digging into the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

As I start cleaning the breakfast dishes, I hear the sound of grating behind me. I’m smiling again. He’s such an easy-going guy, and fun to be with.

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