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“Get distracted.”
“Right.” She took the cauliflower out of the vegetable drawer. “Ithink my couples therapy excuse solves all of our problems when it comes to explaining why we know each other and why we are not sleeping in the same cabin.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have an interesting imagination?”
“Occasionally.” She set the head of cauliflower on a cutting board, opened a drawer, and selected the large vegetable cleaver. “But mostly people tell me that I have a tendency to be too controlling. It’s probably true. I’m not the spontaneous type.”
Luke watched her whack the cauliflower into bite-sized pieces.
“Ever tried spontaneity?” he asked.
She thought about her long history of failed romances and brought the knife down on the helpless vegetable with a good deal more force than was necessary. A large chunk of cauliflower flew off the board and landed on the floor.
“Once in a while,” she said, bending down to retrieve the fallen veggie. “It doesn’t go well for me.”
When she straightened she saw that Luke was watching her with very close attention, a mix of wariness and amusement glinting in his eyes.
“What?” she said.
“Would you mind aiming that very large knife in a different direction?”
She realized she was gripping the handle of the cleaver much too tightly. She winced. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I get a little tense when the subject of spontaneity comes up.”
“I noticed.”
“I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“You aren’t the only one.”
She glanced at him, once again registering the grim line of his jaw and the preternatural aura of awareness that charged the atmosphere around him. The phrasebattle-ready tensioncame to mind.
She opened a cupboard and selected some spices—cumin, paprika, coriander, and turmeric.
She poured some olive oil into a bowl, added the spices and some salt, and whisked the ingredients together.
“How does spontaneity work for you?” she asked.
“Results vary between your average doomsday scenario and the apocalypse,” he said.
“Same with me,” she said.
Luke drank some wine and looked thoughtful. “Seems to me booking a stay on Night Island to look for a kidnap victim qualifies as a spontaneous decision.”
“Nope. That was based on reason and logic and a lack of options. It’s the only move we can make, given the information available.”
“True.”
“My regrettable spontaneous decisions usually involve my personal life,” she said. “Relationships.”
“Same.” He watched her toss the cauliflower chunks in the olive oil and spice mixture. “What are you making?”
“Roasted cauliflower. I’ll serve it with some tahini dipping sauce.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had that.”
“Vegetarian comfort food.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
