I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping the remote clutched in my hand.
“The soup will be warm in a few minutes.”
He was in a great mood for the rest of the night. I barely spoke but he seemed completely unperturbed by my silence.
And, of course, the tomato soup he made was delicious and he served it with cheese toast he made with the homemade bread he’d used to make my sandwich.
Finally, at eight-thirty, I got to my feet and headed upstairs to go to bed.
I also took the remote with me because I was so irritated with him.
Now, it was nearing midnight and I was regretting the nap I’d had earlier. The ceiling of Daniel’s guest bedroom was nowhere near as interesting as the man cave.
I’d heard him come upstairs over an hour ago. Though he was quiet, the house was old and the floor creaked and the pipes groaned a bit as he got ready for bed.
There was nothing but silence now.
If I’d planned better, I would have brought a book upstairs with me earlier. His library had to have something interesting in it.
I didn’t even have my phone to text Sela or scroll through Pinterest.
I stared at the ceiling for thirty more seconds and sighed before I threw the covers back. I was a little hungry. I’d wanted seconds at dinner, but I would have been damned before I ate more of his food in front of him. He might be a polite kidnapper, but he was still my captor. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I liked his cooking.
I slipped a pair of fuzzy socks on my feet and tiptoed to the door of the guest room. I cracked the door and waited. The house remained quiet.
As I slipped out of the guest room, I wondered if vampires slept or if Daniel was lying in bed, reading a book, or staring at the ceiling like I had earlier.
I shook the thought out of my head as I crept downstairs. I didn’t need to empathize with my kidnapper.
The kitchen was mostly dark when I entered, but the light over the stove was on. I went to the fridge and opened the door. All the food was organized, and the fridge was sparkling clean inside.
Clearly, Daniel Ayres was a psychopath because no one else could be that organized.
I tried to be quiet as I picked through the contents of the fridge. Yogurt, fruit, vegetables, lunch meat…did the man not own French onion dip or cheese that squirted from a can?
“Hungry?”
I screamed and whirled around, clutching my chest.
Daniel stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mostly hidden in the shadows. I could see that he had his arms crossed over his chest.
Without thinking, I grabbed the closest object, which happened to be an apple from a bowl, an honest-to-God bowl, in the fridge and flung it at him.
Of course, he caught it one-handed and set it on the counter next to him. Then, he crossed his arms again.
“Why are you throwing things?” he asked.
“Because you scared the shit out of me!”
“Well, since you were attempting to be sneaky, I didn’t want to alert you to my presence.”
“I wasn’tbeing sneaky. I just didn’t want to wake you up and deal with you. Why were you beingsneaky?” I added air quotes around the last word, mostly for sarcastic effect.
“Because I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to leave in the middle of the night.”
That reminded me.
I lifted my right hand. “Is that what this was for?”
