He chuckled and pulled a chair next to Tot. “Little lady, it’s near 1:00 a.m. You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“She’s a little off schedule.”
“She’s entitled, considering what she’s been through. Think she’s hungry?”
“Doesn’t seem so.”
“Well, I am. And thirsty. Tap water’s not safe to drink, maybe, though.”
“There’s a dozen water bottles in the cupboard above the sink.”
“Perfect. How about we use what’s here and save our supply? If we get the stove going, we can boil some and refill ours.” He started to get up, but he groaned aloud, his face creasing in pain.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get it. My knee’s feeling a lot better.”
A soft expression washed over him in the lamplight, and he reached out and fingered a strand of her hair, tucking it back behind her ear. She froze, not breathing.
“Thank you,” he said. “You’re amazing, in case I forgot to tell you that.”
And what exactly flooded over her just then? A mixture of warmth and worry that left her wanting to move closer and run in the other direction. She yearned to kiss him, but she knew that would only lead to more pain later.Don’t need me too much,Cullen,she wanted to tell him.I don’t want tobe anybody’s safe place.The trauma they were enduring was creating a fake intimacy that wouldn’t exist in the real world.
She went to the kitchen, grabbed bottles of water and the scant contents of the fridge and pantry, a couple paper plates and napkins, and brought it all to the small side table so he wouldn’t have to move.
He uncapped a bottle and drained it before opening the next. She, too, gulped the clean, cool liquid. Utterly delicious. She opened the olive jar and forked some out on a paper plate, then pushed it toward him.
“You help yourself to the olives.” He dipped a cracker in the peanut butter and ate it with an eye roll. “Oh man. I can’t even believe how good this tastes.” He fixed several peanut butter cracker sandwiches and slid them over to her. “Have some before I go face down in this pile of crackers.”
Again, she offered the olives.
He shook his head.
“You don’t like olives?”
“Oh, I like the taste fine. I...” He waved a hand. “Confession. I’ll eat anything on the planet except for two things, one of which is green olives unless they’re chopped or sliced up or something.”
“If you like the taste, why not eat them whole?”
“I’m not going to say, on account of it tarnishes my macho reputation.” He mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key.
She grinned. “Oh, your macho reputation is already suffering from the rat incident.”
“Unkind to throw that in my face, ma’am.”
“I’ll forget all about it,” she said mischievously, “if you tell me about your olive hang-up.”
“It’s not a hang-up or anything. I just can’t get past the fact that...” He groaned. “You’re gonna tease me.”
She arched a brow, waiting.
“They look too much like eyeballs.”
Her laughter came out so exuberantly, Tot jerked her head over to look. “Eyeballs. Really.”
“Yeah, like they’re all squishy and the red thing in the middle is like some sort of horror show. Creeps me out.” He shivered and devoured another cracker.
Still laughing, she stuck a fork into the jar, speared two olives, and stuffed them into her mouth. “Lucious,” she said. “An amazing, gelatinous texture.”
He sighed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
