“Dig in,” she says once we sit across from each other. She doesn’t wait for me to take the first bite, too busy shoveling food into her own mouth. I follow suit, bringing my fork to my lips, and I kid you not, my eyes roll into the back of my head. The pleasured moan escaping me should be embarrassing, but isn’t, and Tink gives a low chuckle.
“Told you.”
“I’ll never question the truth behind your words again. Holy Mother of God, how is this so good? What’s your nonna’s secret ingredient? Crack?”
“It’s all in the sauce,” she mumbles around a mouthful, pointing the tip of her bottle at my plate before washing it down. “Most people make their lasagna or pasta dishes with store-bought marinara, and you can make a decent enough meal with those. But if you’re aiming for extraordinary, you have to make it from scratch. Nothing beats fresh ingredients.”
“You’re telling me you whipped this up between cabin repairs and sending off orders?”
“Nah, I made it a while back. Making a homemade sauce takes up a good chunk of time, so I always make a big batch and freeze whatever I don’t use. Comes in handy on days like today. Now, if my nonna were still alive, she would’ve muttered something along the lines of it being a crime not to serve a perfectly good sauce with homemade pasta. That woman wouldn’t have been caught dead buying lasagna noodles at the store, but one can only be so ambitious.”
“So, you’re Italian then?”
“Only a quarter. My nonna met my gramps when he vacationed in Italy. She fell head over heels in love with him and followed him to the States. Never was able to shake her Sicilian roots, though,and I’m glad she didn’t. I’ll be forever grateful to her for passing on her culinary skills and family recipes, even if my waist isn’t.”
“You look fantastic,” I say, before I can think of the implications and awkwardly clear my throat when she lifts a brow. “I mean, you know? Nothing wrong with a little meat on your bones.”
“My ex disagreed.”
“Sounds like your ex is a dick.”
Charlie’s mouth twitches before she lifts her beer and clinks it to mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
“So?” I ask, while I serve myself a small mountain of salad, because greens are important. “What’s the deal with your ex, anyway? How long were you together?”
Her shoulders tense when she realizes where the conversation is headed, but she grants me an answer anyway. “Almost sixteen years.”
I rear back at her admission. “That’s an awfully long time to be with someone you obviously weren’t happy with.”
“Yeah, well,” she sighs, leaning back in her chair while she twirls the neck of her bottle between her thumb and forefinger. “Jason and I were high school sweethearts. He wasn’t always an ass. He was actually quite sweet when we first met and treated me like a queen. I’d even go as far as to say we were truly happy those initial few years. But somewhere along the way, he changed. His father’sexpectations of him pushed him into a life I wasn’t comfortable with. Anyways, it’s a long story,” she says, flicking a dismissive hand into the air to let me know she’s ready to move on from the tedious topic. “Just know that I stayed far longer than I should’ve, and we didn’t part on good terms. I haven’t seen or heard from him since I moved up here, and I’d like for it to stay that way.”
I don’t speak, too busy mulling her words over in my head when she breaks the silence. “What about you? Any long-term relationships in your past, Mr. Federal Agent?”
The salad suddenly feels like I’m chewing straw, and I take a long pull from my bottle to choke it down.
“One,” I reluctantly admit. “Let’s just say, it also didn’t end well and leave it at that, for now.”
“Oooookay,” she sings, before she rises to her feet and begins gathering our now-empty plates, obviously having caught onto the fact that I’m not eager to talk about my past. I collect what’s left on the table and follow her into the kitchen, where she’s already filling the sink with hot, soapy water. I don’t spot a dishwasher anywhere, so I place everything on the counter before I roll up my sleeves.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You just fed me the most delicious meal I've ever had. The least I can do is help with the cleanup.”
Tink shrugs and I settle into my task, efficiently scrubbing each item clean before handing it to her to dry. Not for the first time, I notice how well we work together, but this is all beginning to feel a little too comfortable. Too domestic. Something I haven’t felt in a very long time settles in my chest as I catch myself sneaking glances at her side profile. Something warm and soothing. I can’t deny that Charlie is an attractive woman. The striking color of her hair alone is enough to make you stop dead in your tracks to take a second look. Rich and unique, with natural highlights ranging all the way from a light strawberry blonde to a deep mahogany. You simply don’t see a color like that every day, and paired with her emerald eyes and luminous complexion, it makes for a lethal combination.
I don’t get tongue-tied in the presence of a beautiful girl, and I’ve worked with my fair share of stunning women over the years. Even arrested some. So, what is it about this one that draws me in and makes me want to discover all her secrets? I avert my gaze when she catches me staring and inwardly curse myself for being so transparent. My poker face is better than that, but something about Tink makes me want to drop all pretenses. She makes me want to lower my carefully constructed walls, and I won’t lie, it terrifies me. The last time I let my guard down, I paid for my mistake with the two most precious things in my life, and I have yet to recover from the hit.
Once the dishes are taken care of and the leftovers are put away, Charlie grabs two more beers, a couple of shot glasses, a bottle of clear liquid—sans label—and carries her stash to the coffee table in the living room. We take a seat on opposite ends of the sofa, and Scooby trots over to take up space at her feet before promptly falling asleep again. She gives her dog an affectionate pat and smirks at me while she twists the cap off what I can only assume is a homemade concoction.
“You said you needed something stronger, and since you’re a tourist, I consider it my duty as your host to introduce you to a local treasure. Made not twenty minutes from here by a true Moose Harbor native. Not everyone is fortunate enough to get a taste of this.”
“Lucky me,” I drawl, as she pours us two shots and pushes one across the table, taking the time to twist the top off her beer. “Just a chaser,” she explains when I give her a dubious look. I bring the glass to my nose and give it a cursory sniff, but don’t smell much of anything. I don’t bother with my beer. I’ve choked down home-brewed vodka with Russians. Authentic Tequila south of the border. How bad could this shit possibly be?
Lifting my glass in a toast, I knock the mystery liquor back, and my whole body convulses. I’m coughing so hard, I have to thump myself in the sternum to get some relief, and I kid you not, Ialmost pass out from lack of oxygen. Suddenly, I’m afraid whatever poison just went down my esophagus is burning a hole through my stomach lining, it’s that bad. Tink’s shoulders shake as she gulps down about half of her beer, and I’m horrified to realize it’s not because her body is having a similar reaction. No, the little minx is laughing.At me.
“Jesus Christ,” I say, once I’m able to catch my breath. “What the hell is this? Straight up gasoline?”
Charlie’s eyes are full of mirth. “You asked for the hard stuff.”
