She turned the small painting over in her hands, already picturing it propped against the wall above that desk, and felt something swell in her chest that had nothing to do with the painting itself.
Jolie was never just a best friend—she was a sister, and they were in this together. The danger, the hiding, the strange, suspended life underground, none of it would have been survivable alone.
And now, holding a painting she wanted to give her best friend just to see her smile, Stina understood something else too.
She understood exactly why Jolie was so wrapped up in Archer. Why her friend’s whole face changed when he walked into a room.
Because Stina was starting to feel the same way about Jack Rome.
FOURTEEN
Rome followed the low clatter of pots and pans to the kitchen, his instincts bringing him straight to Stina.
He walked in to see flour already dusted across the expanse of counter beside a contraption that she claimed was a pasta press that they’d dragged downstairs from their trip to the ski resort.
A glass jar sat near the edge of the counter with some pale, bubbly liquid inside it. Rome picked it up, eyeing it with caution.
“Put down Edna,” Stina said without looking up from a recipe book, also from the Montclair kitchen.
He stared at the glass jar like it might detonate. “Who is Edna?” he asked slowly.
“My sourdough starter.” She crossed the kitchen and plucked the jar out of his hands with the brisk efficiency of a SEAL. “She’s been alive longer than some of my relationships, so show some respect.”
He snorted. “That doesn’t sound like a high bar.”
“Exactly.” She sent him a coy glance and set the jar down in the exact spot.
He held up both hands and backed away. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty. And what exactly is a sourdough starter?”
“It’s the mix you use to start sourdough bread. It’s common for chefs to name them.”
He bit back a smile and reached for the pasta press instead. After she dragged it to the kitchen, she’d cleaned it and coaxed itinto working order with the stubborn determination she applied to everything.
At the other end of the counter was a drying rack for pasta they had to reassemble. During that time, several of his teammates wandered into the kitchen to offer assistance, but Stina waved them away with the claim she and Rome had it covered.
“It looks like you’ve created an assembly line.”
Her face lit up, and she was so stunning that for a heartbeat, he couldn’t find enough air to fill his lungs. “That’s exactly what this is!”
He drifted close enough to trap her against the counter. “So what are we making?”
“Linguine. With clam sauce.”
When he reached for her, she spun away, and his fingers only grazed her waist.
He leaned against the counter, watching her measure flour from a bin.
“And we’re making bread too, because apparently I can’t be in the kitchen for ten minutes without making a new batch.”
“Is that a medical condition?” He watched her dump flour onto the counter and create a well in the center.
“It’s becoming a personality trait.” She smiled at him. “Come crack the eggs for me.”
“I’d like to crack something else.”
She threw her head back on a laugh and bumped her shoulder against his as he moved in to help. “You sound like Jolie’s brothers when they were teenagers. Everything you said had an innuendo.”
He picked up an egg and cracked it cleanly into the well.
