Page 19 of Talk Howly to Me

He stood at the central island wearing a black apron over a forest green henley that clung to his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Dark jeans molded to his long legs, and his thick brown hair looked slightly mussed. The sleeves of his henley were pushed up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted with dark hair.

When he looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, his entire face transformed with a smile so genuine and welcoming that it hit her like a physical force. The warmth in his green eyes made her stomach flutter with butterflies she had no business feeling, and her pulse quickened in response to the obvious pleasure he took in her arrival.

Oh no, she thought as she found herself smiling back without conscious decision. This is dangerous.

"There you are," Kozue said, his deep voice carrying that same easy warmth that seemed to be his natural state. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind about helping with dinner."

The flutter in her stomach intensified, and Sloane felt herself caught between the desire to step closer and the instinct to turn around and run before she could want something—someone—she couldn't have.

This place is just temporary, she reminded herself desperately. Isn't it?

She tried to ignore the physical response her body had to his presence as he gestured with a flour-dusted hand toward a white apron folded neatly on the massive counter.

"You'll want one of those. My spaghetti sauce has a mind of its own and tends to splatter."

He tossed it her way and Sloane caught it against her chest. The fabric smelled clean, like sunshine and lavender detergent as she slipped the loop over her head and tied the straps behind her back. Turning slightly, she gathered her long hair into a ponytail, securing it with the elastic she kept around her wrist.

When she turned back, Kozue's gaze was fixed on her, and the playful glint had been replaced by something hotter and more focused. Sloane felt her skin flush under the intensity of that look.

He's just being welcoming, she told herself firmly, but her body didn't believe it. The awareness between them was a tangible thing, thick as the steam rising from the stockpot.

She broke eye contact first, moving to the deep stainless-steel sink to scrub her hands once more. "So," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "Where do you want me?"

Kozue gestured to a handwritten recipe card propped against a can of tomatoes. "Sauce duty. You'll need to swear a blood oath, though. This recipe is a guarded secret."

She picked up the card, her eyes scanning the elegant script. "I wouldn't dare tell a soul. Your secret sauce is safe with me." She glanced up and met his eyes again.

The look he gave her then wasn't just amusement; it was a profound trust that made her breath catch. It was the look you gave someone you'd known for years, not a stranger you'd met less than twenty-four hours ago.

Don't read into it, she warned herself, turning abruptly to gather ingredients. He's just a good guy.

For the next hour, they worked in a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural. Sloane browned ground beef and Italian sausage in a huge pot, the savory scent filling the kitchen. Kozue rolled and cut his fresh pasta with swift, practiced motions. The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated by the sizzle of meat, the chop of his knife on garlic, and the gentle hum of the lodge beyond the kitchen doors.

"So, how are you settling in?" Kozue asked finally, his voice casual as he dusted a baking sheet with flour.

"Very well," Sloane answered, stirring the tomatoes into the meat. "Thank you again. For the room, for this job… it means more than you know." The truth of the statement sat heavily in her chest.

"We always make room for people here."

His simple words were a direct hit to her defenses. They weren't just offering shelter; they were offering inclusion. It cracked open the vault of her fear just enough for the truth to slip out.

"So, the reason I showed up here last night looking like I'd gone ten rounds," she began. "I won a fight. An underground match. But right after, two men in an SUV tried to take me. Said their employer wanted to speak with me." She dared a glance at him. Kozue had stopped moving entirely, his full attention fixed on her. "I got spooked, and so I ran. Ended up at a hotel where I met Gerri. She said she knew a safe place, and that's how I wound up here."

The confession hung in the air and Sloane braced for skepticism, for questions, for the wary distance that usually followed when people learned her life wasn't clean and simple.

Instead, Kozue moved. He rounded the island, his steps sure and quick, and he didn't stop until he was right in front of her. His large hand came up to cover hers where it gripped the wooden spoon and his touch was warm and grounding.

"Sloane," he said, his voice low and serious, all traces of his earlier playfulness gone. "You are completely safe here. I need you to believe that. Ronan and I will do everything in our power to protect you. Whoever is after you won't get near you."

The conviction in his tone was absolute. It wasn't a false promise; it was a vow. The tight coil of anxiety that had lived in her gut since the alley began to loosen, replaced by a flood of relief so potent it made her knees feel weak.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome," she whispered, the admission making her feel vulnerable. "But I can't go back to my old life, and I don't have anywhere else to turn."

He squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you want. Work here as long as you want. This isn't a temporary fix. This is your place now, if you want it."

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked them away fiercely, giving a sharp nod. "Thank you."

After that honest exchange, hours melted away in a blur of coordinated effort. They worked side-by-side, filling dishes, setting up the sprawling buffet line in the dining area with salads, garlic bread, pasta, the secret sauce, and grated cheeses. The communal space transformed into something warm and inviting, ready for the lodge's hungry guests.