the world… you don’t really believe it, do you?”
Alec became pensive. “You know, during my deployment overseas, I saw a lot of people whose world ended in a second, and it wasn’t pretty. Not by a long shot. No food, no law, no protection for civilians. I believe in being prepared and being able to defend the ones I love. I want them to survive anything and everything. Once the basic structure of society collapses, there’s nothing but chaos left. And you wouldn’t believe how fast things can turn to shit, or how bad it can get for the population.”
“Pessimistic much?” she asked, continuing to stuff herself with meat.
“It’s not a question of optimism. You don’t prepare for the best day of your life. What you have to prepare for is your worst.”
“What if they never do? Turn to shit, I mean. What if the end of the world as we know it doesn’t happen?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His caramel eyes sparkled in the light from the fireplace and the lantern on the table. It was a lethal combination. “You need to switch literary genres from romance to apocalyptic horror, sweetheart. You’ll get it then.”
As if. “No, thanks. I’m sticking with romance. I’ve had enough horror for a lifetime, apocalyptic or otherwise.”
“Preppers want peace of mind in the face of the insecurities of life. A sense of control, if you will. Some years back we hit a very rough weather patch. We were totally disconnected from the rest of the state, with no help coming from the government. Up here you can only rely on yourself and your neighbor. That’s about it. We are a self-sufficient, resilient bunch. And very proud of that.” He grinned. “You know how the saying goes: everyone makes fun of the redneck until the zombie apocalypse.”
“Is that a saying?” Because she’d never heard it in her life. Granted, she’d spent thirty-odd years in Seattle, and she was a city girl through and through. Still.
“You bet it is, at least around here. I don’t think we have to wait for the zombie part, though. You don’t need zombies for shit to go FUBAR. Real live humans are bad enough.”
“True,” she muttered, and finished off her stroganoff. Before leaving town, she was sooo asking for the recipe.
Then again, maybe not. When would she have the time to cook it?
“Let’s put on some music,” she said, walking to the coffee table where her cellphone and earbuds were. She unplugged them and sat on the fluffy rug, her back against the sofa. She patted the spot next to her. “Join me?”
Alec walked over, two bottles of beer in his hands, and handed one to her. Then he sat by her side.
“You sure we can drink more beer? What if Marc calls with another emergency?”
Alec shook his head. “We’re safe, boss. He doesn’t have that much livestock, and none of the rest are pregnant. I asked.”
“Good. Yesterday was as much as my poor heart can take,” she confessed, scrolling through her playlists. “Here.”
BTS started playing and she jammed to it. “Fii-yerrr!”
Alec looked at her, cringing. “Your taste in music has changed a lot. What band is this and what language are they singing in?”
She laughed. “This is K-pop, my friend. The best thing to come out of South Korea since kimchi. Remember how I told you Jess loved TV shows about small-town America? Well, she loved K-drama too, and K-pop. This is a boy band called BTS.”
He glanced at the photo on the screen, then took her cell out of her hands to bring it closer to his eyes. “Are you sure they’re boys? That’s some fashion sense.”
She rolled her eyes. If Jess could have heard, she would have been so appalled. “Young men have different beauty standards in Asia. Some are… pretty. They call them flower boys.”
He studied the image. “Huh. Gotta hand it to the guy, he carries off that flowered jacket with panache. That one dressed in pink and orange—even his hair is pink.”
“Don’t mock it till you’ve tried it.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Orange and pink are not my colors.”
She thought they looked good in orange and pink, but that argument was totally lost on men like Alec. “Say whatever you want, but they’re mega-famous. Idols.” And they could dance like gods, but that again was another lost argument on Alec. “Jess used to walk the halls wearing what she called the trifecta of idols: black mask, sunglasses, and hoodie. That’s how they