Angels Fall

losing time again, as she had during her breakdown. But the bowls were in the closet, weren't they?
    Mac Drubber had hardly moved them around as a little joke. So that left her.
    It was just stress, she assured herself. She'd had a trauma, and it plagued her mind, so she'd put a couple of things in the wrong place. It wasn't a problem, didn't have to be a problem if she recognized it for what it was.
    She simply carried the bowls back, put the one she needed on the counter, set the rest where they belonged.
    Refusing to think about it any further, she minced, measured and whisked.
     
    WHEN HER SHIFT was over, she unlocked the door again. This time she checked all her things. Cupboards, closet, medicine cabinet, dresser.
    Everything was just where it should be. So she put the little incident aside, washed the new roasting pan Mac had delivered. And got down to doing what she loved.
    It had been a long time since Reece had prepared a serious, intimate meal. And for her, it was like love rediscovered. The textures, the shapes, the scents, the selections were physical, emotional, even spiritual.
    While the vegetables bubbled and browned in the roast's juices, she opened a bottle of Cabernet to let it breathe. It had probably been silly to buy the cloth napkins in their bright, paisley print, she thought as she arranged the place settings on the counter. But she couldn't bring herself to use paper for a company meal.
    And they looked so pretty and festive tented on the simple white plates. And the candles were as practical as they were attractive. The power might go out sometime, and her flashlight batteries might die. Plus the little blue glass holders hadn't cost very much.
    She'd decided to stay awhile, hadn't she? It didn't hurt to buy a few things to make the room more homey. More hers. It wasn't as if she was tearing through her paycheck on some spree buying rugs and curtains and artwork.
    Though a bright colorful rug would look nice over the old, scarred floorboards. She could always sell it before she moved on. Something to think about anyway, she thought as she checked the time.
    She caught herself humming as she chopped and mixed the filling for the mushrooms. A good sign, she realized. A strong sign proving she was fine. Nothing to worry about here.
    She'd always had music when she worked in the kitchen—rock, opera, New Age—whatever fit her mood and the meal.
    Maybe she'd buy a little CD player for the counter, just for company.
    She glanced over at the reassuring glint of the new dead bolt against the faded paint of the door. She was safe here, so why not be happy and comfortable, as well?
    She was going to hike again, too. And she might see about renting or borrowing a boat to take out on the lake. How hard could it be to row a boat? She'd like to find out.
    That would be another step toward being normal instead of just pretending to be.
    She had a date, didn't she? Sort of. And that was pretty damn normal. Just as Brody being ten minutes late was probably normal.
    Unless he wasn't coming at all. Unless he'd rethought what had happened—or almost happened—between them and was opting out before things got complicated. Why would a man choose to get tangled up with someone who was emotionally screwed up? Someone who checked the door three times and still managed to leave it unlocked. Who couldn't remember writing all over a map with red marker. Who put her hiking boots in a kitchen cabinet.
    Must be sleepwalking, Reece thought with a sigh. Regressing. Next thing she'd be wandering the street naked.
    She stopped, closed her eyes and drew in a breath. She smelled the mushrooms, the peppers and onions, the roasting meat.
    She was not only safe, and fairly sane, she was productive. She had nothing to worry about tonight but preparing a good meal. Even if she ended up eating it by herself. Even as she thought it, she heard footsteps on the stairs.
    She let the initial panic come, let it go. By the time the knock sounded she was steady again. Wiping her hands on the dish towel hooked in her waistband, she crossed over to unlock the door.
    Steady, she thought, but not stupid. "Brody?"
    "You expecting someone else? What's for dinner?"
    So she was smiling when she unlocked and opened the door. "Salmon croquettes and steamed asparagus with a side of polenta."
    His eyes narrowed as he stepped in. Then he took a good sniff of the air and gave a teeth-baring grin. "Meat. Looks like you might want to put this away for