“Thirsty?” I ask, chuckling.
“I haven’t had a beer in weeks. That was heavenly.”
“Want another?”
Her eyes narrow, and her mouth sets in a hard line. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“No! I was just—”
“Yeah. Just trying your luck. I get it.”
Alisha looks down at her plate, savagely spearing a piece of ravioli and shoveling it into her mouth. I feel pressure in my chest, then I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let it out slowly.
I watch her swiftly demolish the food, then tear into the garlic bread as she finishes her beer. I expect her to say something about me, remembering what she likes, but she doesn’t speak, or even really look up.
“Seriously, do you want some more?” I ask. “I can make something else, and I’ve got plenty of beer—”
“No.”
“But if you’re still hungry, I could make some dessert.”
“What is this, a five-star hotel?” she asks sarcastically. “If you brought me here to pamper me, why the fuck did you kidnap me?”
“I wish you would stop saying that,” I answer, my voice hard. “I didn’t kidnap you—”
“Oh, is there a different word for hauling a helpless woman over your shoulder and dragging her away against her will?”
“I told you!” I snap, getting mad now. “It isn’t safe out there.”
“I’ve been running from Paul for about three weeks, and he hasn’t caught me yet. Maybe I would have been just fine.”
“You were heading straight for the desert,” I answer, trying not to yell. “You wouldn’t have lasted a day.”
“You don’t know me,” she says, her voice low. “You don’t know me at all. You never took the time!”
“I know this is your favorite food—and your favorite beer!”
Alisha snorts softly with laughter, folding her arms across her chest.
“Okay, decent memory, then. I’m really surprised. We only spent, what, a few months together, and you remembered one thing about me. Great job.”
“Two things,” I mutter defensively.
“Wow,” she answers, giving a little clap. “Give the guy a medal.”
“Did you learn anything about me?” I retort.
Alisha’s dark, violet eyes fix right on mine, and her face sets into a hard expression. “I learned that you only care about yourself and what you can get out of people. Then, when you’re done, you bail in the middle of the night.”
I hold her gaze for a moment, but I can’t take the accusation glittering there, so I turn away, quickly gathering up the plates.
I deserve this. I deserve all of this.
Alisha finishes her beer as I stack the dishes. When I turn around, she’s holding the bottle, looking into it as if it has answers hidden in its amber depths.
“Let me show you the bedroom,” I say. “You must be tired.”
She nods, still not looking up at me. I wait for a few seconds, then go past the table towards the stairs. After a moment, I hear her following behind me.
