Page 81 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

As I wander out of the room the three of us have been sleeping in and down the stairs, phone in hand, I breathe deeply, rolling my shoulders back to release some tension.

It at least smells good in here. Saint's been cooking all morning and has declared the kitchen off-limits to me until now.

My phone buzzes again, and when I look at the screen, expecting Sam's arrival text, I see a message from Ivy instead.

I will not be speaking to a certain Mr Kincayde today.

What did he do?

He's about to learn I am not the one to be played with.

I'll hold him down, you can shave him or something. Give him a pretty lion's mane.

HAHAH

Be there in 15

:)

When I get to the base of the stairs, Sam strides right in through the front door, which makes me smile. Some things never change. What's mine is hers, and what's hers is mine—besties for life.

She's wearing a calf-length sweater dress, and I think those are her thigh-high sock boots. She's also wearing a floor-length wool jacket and a scarf around her neck.

Sam sheds the jacket and the scarf, hanging them neatly on the coat rack, then shucks her boots off, placing them on the mat. Then, as she turns to look at me, Sam says, "Bitch, it smells fuckingamazingin here."

"I know," I gush, "Saint's been cooking all day, and Ivy will be here soon."

"Sick. Do you know exactly what he's made?"

"I know there was a large slab of meat in a bin of a marinade of some sort yesterday, and I know there will be mac and cheese, and I'm sure there is a dessert of some sort," I shrug. "Oh, and I know there will be plates of snacks. He made those yesterday, and yes, I was allowed to taste test," I smirk, thinking about how I'd convinced him… on my knees… under the counter as he'd prepped.

You're fucking with my mise en place, Tiny.

"Ooh, how did you get him to-" Sam pauses, cocking her head sideways. "-you know what, I don't think I want to know. I would like to snack, though," Sam replies, hooking her arm through mine and striding toward the kitchen.

Her hair has grown a little from the sharp bob it had been in when she first moved to the Hollow, but I can tell it's a controlled grow out. The cut isn't shaggy or overgrown.

"Thank you for being here," I say quietly, resting my head on her shoulder for a second just as we reach the kitchen.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," She hums, placing her head over mine. "When can we expect the horrors to multiply?"

"They'll be here probably within the hour?" I shrug, not really knowing. "Jay and Dante should be back soon, too."

"Good afternoon, ladies!" Saint practically shouts when he notices our entrance, doing a little dance as he's frying Brussels sprouts in a pan with garlic and bacon. His favorite cooking playlist has been blaring all morning. Saint, as expected, is shirtless, his hair tied up in a bun, dark grey khaki pants on his hips, and an apron tied around his waist. A few curls are escaping around his face and the nape of his neck, making me want to taste his skin.

I bet he tastes like itsmellsin here right now.

"Hello, blondie. How's it hanging today?" Sam asks, snagging a hunk of cheese from the prepared charcuterie plate.

"I'm doing great; how is our favorite snake bitch?" Saint fires back, grinning at her as he dumps the fried sprouts onto a baking rack and swiftly deposits them into one of the wall ovens.

"Fuckin fantastic, whatcha' making for all of us?" Sam replies, offering me a hunk of my favorite cheese- the spicy curds. Saint must have gotten more from the market because the ones I'd gotten while with him were long gone.

"Well, you saw the sprouts," Saint begins like he doesn't have our complete attention, wiping his hands off on a towel. "And there will be a salad."

Sam hums like that's interesting. Like he's not just teasing us. Something warm sparks in my chest, and I have to stuff another cheese curd in my mouth to keep my grin under control.

"What meat do I smell?" Sam blurts, reaching for a thin slice of salami and an olive.