“Why the hell are you sanitizing the groceries?” Lucky queries as I close my laptop and tuck it under my arm.
I stuff my phone in the back pocket of my shorts and pick up the espresso. “The CDC says the virus can live on surfaces for like three days or something. You either have to put the packaged food in quarantine or clean it.”
I start to leave the room, and he follows me. “Yeah, but why areyoudoing it?”
I set my laptop and the espresso on the coffee table in the living room, then grab one of the scarfs Piper left hanging on a coat rack next to the door. “We all have to help out since we’re all staying here,” I say, tying the scarf around my nose and mouth. “This stopped being a vacation two weeks ago.”
He just stands there, staring at me quizzically.
“Lucky, you need to either put on a scarf or go to the other side of the room so I can open the door.”
His mouth quirks in a small smile as he stepsreallyclose to me, reaching past me to grab a hot pink scarf off the rack. He ties it on and then gestures primly at his half-covered face.
“Very becoming, Mr. De Luca.”
I reach for the doorknob, and he grabs my wrist, stopping me. He tugs my arm so that I awkwardly shuffle closer to him, and then he leans down and rubs his scarf-covered lips against mine.
I pull my face backward. “What are you doing?”
“Something about a half-covered face is kinky as hell.” He leans in to stroke his lips across the line of my jaw until he reaches my ear. “If I were gonna fuck you, I’d want us to be wearing these.”
A lightning bolt of heat and lust shoots through me. I pull my arm out of his grasp, then step around him to the door. “Good to know, but we’re not going to be doing that, are we?”
He backs up a few steps. “Nope.”
* * *
After helpingme carry the groceries into the kitchen, Lucky washes and dries his hands, and then proceeds to lean against one of the counters and stare at me. Pearl and Piper have joined us, and the three of us dutifully go about the paranoia-laced process of separating the groceries from the bags and then divvying them up into groups of packaged foods that need to be wiped down and produce that needs to soak in a sink full of warm, soapy water. Lucky just stands there, leaning against the counter, still staring at me.
“You know what youcouldbe doing?” I say to him while wiping down the plastic packaging on a few loaves of artisan sourdough bread.
I glance at him, and he nonchalantly tilts his head to one side, lifting his brows. “Enlighten me.”
Piper whispers something to Pearl on the opposite side of the expansive, butcher block kitchen island. Pearl dips her head and titters quietly. Then they both eye Lucky and me mischievously. I ignore them.
I pick up the two loaves of bread and set them on the designated “sanitized” side of the island and then gesture at them like I’m a gameshow model presenting the winner with their prize. “You could put this stuff away.”
He offers a quick, snarky, theatrical frown. “I don’t know where any of it goes.”
I squint at him as I move on to a pile of cellophane-wrapped fancy cheeses. “You live here. How do you not know where any of your groceries go?”
“Well,Ava,” he says, eyes sparkling with mirth, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is not justmyhouse. The Jazz Manor is a musicians’commune. I’ve never lived here alone, and someone else took over the responsibility of feeding everyone a long time ago.”
“It was actually Barry,” Piper chimes in, pulling assorted fresh fruit out of small plastic bags. “And he decided to make a run for it on the first day with—” She suddenly coughs and drops all the fruit. “Ack!”She coughs again, waving her hands frantically. “Oh mygawd!”
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Pearl says, voice tight with concern.
“Something flew into my mouth!” Piper squeals. “Like a droplet! From these lemons!” Her brows knit, and she whimpers as she looks at Lucky. “What if I’minfected! What am I gonna do now? Should I quarantine on the third floor?”
Lucky’s face pulls tight as he cringes. “Ilive on the third floor. If you need to, you can turn the den down here into a quarantine room.”
“Oh myword.” Pearl tsks. “This is all just getting a little out of hand.” She moseys to the sink, washes and dries her hands, and then makes a beeline for the liquor cabinet. She pulls out a bottle of whiskey, pours a hefty shot, and then holds it out for Piper. “Just drink this. That’ll kill any spec of germs.” She snaps her fingers. “Just likethat.”
Piper takes the glass, but still looks panicked. “What if it doesn’t work? What if weallget sick now all because of these damn lemons?”
“Well, that’s just a risk we’re going to have to take, honey.” Pearl makes her way back to the bags of fruit. “We can only do so much to safeguard ourselves.”
Piper listlessly whimpers again, but then downs the shot. She sets down the glass and helps Pearl load armfuls of lemons, oranges, and apples into the sink full of soapy water. I move on to wiping down half-gallons of milk, almond milk, and soy milk, and the kitchen descends into silence as we focus on the task at hand. Moments later, the sexy, smoldering intro to Ella Fitzgerald’sSummertimestarts trilling from a small, but high-quality speaker in the corner of one of the counters.
