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He noticed that she cradled the large mug between two very small hands. Feeling his gaze, she looked up at him. “I apologize for slapping you. I’ve never struck anyone in my life. You’re a very provoking individual, Mr. Bondurant.”
“So I’ve been told.” He stirred the chili. “How’d you find me?”
“Mostly through sources in D.C. Don’t worry. I was discreet.”
“I never worry, Miss Travis. It is Miss? Or have you just committed adultery?”
That remark, more than the deed itself or any previous insults, set her off. Her eyes sparkled with anger. “No, I haven’t committed adultery. I defer to your far greater experience on that subject. And Barrie will be fine, thank you.”
Gray turned back to the stove, dropped a teaspoon of butter into the skillet, and turned on the burner beneath it. As he watched the butter melt, he considered how to get rid of her without bodily throwing her out. With very little cerebral effort, he could list a dozen ways to kill a man silently, instantly, and painlessly. But the thought of physically hurting a woman made him queasy.
“You have a beautiful place,” she remarked, drawing him out of his thoughts.
“Thanks.”
“How many acres?”
“Fifty, give or take.”
“You’re here alone?”
“Until this morning.”
“I’m sure you know that there’s a town named Bondurant not too far from here. Is that—”
“No. That’s a coincidence.”
“Do you keep livestock? Other than the horses in the corral.”
“I’ve got a small herd of beef cattle.”
“So that’s where all the meat in your freezer came from.”
Gray turned and looked at her pointedly.
“I got a drink of water and borrowed a few ice cubes,” she said, setting her chin defiantly.
“What else did you find while you were snooping around?”
“I wasn’t snooping.”
He turned back to the stove, spread the melted butter around the bottom of the skillet, then poured in the eggs. He fed two slices of bread into a toaster, took a plate from the cabinet, then scrambled the eggs with a spatula until they were to his liking. He scraped them into the center of the plate. Over the eggs he ladled the bubbling chili, then topped it off with a liberal sprinkling of Tabasco. The toast popped up as though on cue. He added both slices to the plate, along with a fork, and carried it to the table and sat down, straddling the seat of his chair.
From the corner of his eye, he watched her approach. She sat down across from him. Ignoring her, he shoveled several bites into his mouth. Not until he paused to take a drink of coffee did he ask, “Hungry?”
“Sort of.”
“Want some?”
She looked dubiously at his plate. “I’m not sure.”
He shrugged. “It’s on the stove.”
She left the table and returned a few moments later with a smaller portion of his breakfast. He watched her take a tentative bite. She chewed, swallowed, then began to eat heartily.
“This is a remote area,” she remarked between bites. “Don’t you get lonely?”
“No.”
