Page 23 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“Um—”

He cut me off. “Finish it. I’ll feed you tomorrow.”

I began to protest, and he leaned close. “Eat it, or I will come sit beside you and feed it to you. You will not leave here hungry. You’ve had a long day, and you need the food.”

“You’re really bossy, you know that?”

“I’m aware.”

I picked up my fork and began to eat again. I was still hungry, but his words echoed in my head.

“Why will you feed me?”

“Oh, Little Bee. I have a feeling that our negotiations will take a while. God knows I’ll need to eat to keep up my strength.” He winked.

“You’re supposed to be grumpy. Everyone described you as grumpy,” I said without thinking.

“I am grumpy most of the time. I don’t like people much. I hate crowds, weddings, that sort of thing. I tend to tell people what to do, and they don’t like that.”

“Really,” I replied sarcastically, indicating my plate.

“But you’re eating. Your little sidekicks jumped to attention when I told them what to do. Most people want to be led, and I excel at it.”

“Much of an ego?” I muttered around a mouthful, confident he couldn’t hear me.

“My ego isn’t the only large thing I have,” he replied, draining his coffee and ignoring me as I sputtered.

“As for being grumpy with you, I find it difficult. You make me want to smile.”

I finished all I could eat, pushing away my plate. He didn’t argue with me and smiled at Gladys as she cleared off the table.

“More coffee?”

He nodded. “Excellent brew. Is your pie as good as your coffee?”

“Even better.”

“Two pieces, then. You pick which kinds. I love them all.”

She waddled off, happy.

“Do you make pies?” he asked.

“No, my hands ruin the pastry all the time. Cakes, yes. Pies, no.”

“Not an issue. I prefer cakes.”

“I assume you have a function or some other pressing matter you need a cake for? That is your business proposition?”

He waited until Gladys filled his cup, set down two large slices of pie in front of him and left. He tilted his head, studying me.

“Partially, but my proposal is more, ah, personal.”

His voice was lower than before. Raspier. It sounded intimate. His eyes became intense again, his gaze heated.

I felt a shiver run down my spine that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with him.

“P-personal?” I asked.