The walk-in motor hummed behind us. Her body pressed warm through her clothes, one knee brushing the outside of my thigh, her fingers tight in my shirt. I wanted to put my mouth on her neck. I wanted to scrape my teeth along the place where her pulse beat too fast and feel her go soft, loud, furious, mine.
I broke the kiss and put my forehead near hers, breathing until my teeth settled back where they belonged.
Nella’s fingers loosened. “What?”
“You don’t know enough yet.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That sounds like an excuse.”
“It’s a warning.”
“I hate warnings.”
“I know.”
From the back hall, Dusty’s voice floated in. “Nella? The alley gate is doing the thing again, and I’m sorry to interrupt whatever energy is happening back here.”
Nella closed her eyes. “I’m going to throw him into the Atlantic.”
I stepped back immediately and dropped my hands.
Her eyes came back to mine.
I left space between us. I kept my hands down. I wasn’t angry at the interruption, and I wanted her to see that stopping didn’t cost her anything.
Then I turned my head toward the hall. “What thing?”
Dusty appeared with both hands lifted. “The latch thing. The metal part is making choices.”
Nella shoved away from the prep table and smoothed her apron even though it was already untied. “The metal part is a latch, Dusty.”
“That’s what it wants you to think.”
I followed them to the service entrance, where the alley gate sat crooked against its frame. Nella crouched, tested the lower hinge, and scowled.
“Porca miseria.”
Dusty took one respectful step back.
I braced the gate while she lifted the latch.
“Don’t take over,” she said without looking at me.
“I’m holding a gate.”
“You’re holding my gate.”
“You’re possessive.”
She shot me a look over her shoulder. “You have no idea.”
I had too many ideas.
She pulled a flathead screwdriver from a drawer near the back door and pointed it toward the hinge. “Hold it level.”
I held it level.
“Move your hand to the hinge side.”
