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Not that she was complaining. Thanks to Hamid she had food and water. She’d survive, which was more than she could say if he hadn’t come along.
Her eyes narrowed on spotting the freestanding gun cabinet that was next to the filtered water in one corner of the tent. She approached it slowly, cautiously. It was locked…of course it was. Good. She’d always despised firearms. Knowing a single bullet could kill a person made her sick to the stomach.
Turning her back on the gun cabinet, she retrieved her precious Nikon from the floor. There was only one thing left to do. She lifted the camera and focused on the sparse living area inside the tent.Click. Click. Click.She’d make the most of her time here and try to capture everything.
These might even be her breakout pictures!
It wasn’t until she stepped outside to the magical sunset that lit up the desert and oasis of water in red and golds that she realized she had a real opportunity to portray the unique and magnificent landscape. Even the camels in their yard looked fascinating with their shadowy silhouettes in the bright foreground of water.
“Is that really necessary?”
She lowered her camera and spun around at Hamid’s dark voice behind her. “It’s as necessary to me as breathing,” she admitted. Then raising her camera again, she took some shots of him, too. “Believe it or not you take an amazing photo.”
“Enough,” he said gruffly, not charmed one bit by her compliment. “It’s time to eat.”
He stomach chose that moment to cramp and then growl. “You have food here?” she asked weakly.
He lifted a brow. “A man’s got to eat.”
“Yet all I’ve seen is a man who likes to drink.”
He smirked. “I do like a little drop of liquid nectar now and then.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure you do. The trick is knowing when to stop.”
He shrugged. “I stop when I’ve had enough.”
“You know…drinking and other excesses is a sign of weakness.” She tilted her head to the side.“Areyou weak?”
He threw his head back and laughed hard, and she couldn’t help but gape at his response. Her question had been a serious one yet he treated it like it was nothing more than a joke. Which was probably how he treated everything and everyone. Did he not realize that to some people the subject wasn’t just personal, but touchy and devastating, too?
“Little wonder you live in the desert like a savage!” she gritted. “Society would never accept a person with such a careless attitude!”
A man in a stained white apron and crooked teeth approached from seemingly nowhere until she noticed a skin strung between some palm trees a hundred yards or so away with a basic kitchen under its roof. He held up a covered, earthenware dish in one hand and a glass carafe of drink in another. “Dinner is ready,” he announced.
Hamid’s laughter had already faded, and he looked almost somber when he said, “Thank you, Qaahir.”
“You’re welcome, your—“
“Put the food in the usual place inside the tent,” Hamid interjected, “we won’t be needing any arrak today.”
Qaahir’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead even as he did a slight bow. “As you wish.”
She stared at Hamid. How long would his “no drinking” policy last? She’d bet no more than a day, two at most. Not that she cared. It wasn’t as if he needed to impress her. “Why do these men show you so much respect?”
“You mean, unlike you?”
She ignored him. “Is it because you’re in charge of sharing whatever loot you steal?”
Hamid winked. “Thatmustbe it. Come on, let’s eat. All your questions are making me hungry.”
She didn’t really have a choice—not without looking like a stubborn fool—but to follow him back into the tent, place her camera within reach on the floor, then sit ungraciously on one of the many cushions that sat atop his sleeping mat.
A young boy, no older than a teenager, lit some lamps then retreated with the glass carafe of arrack—probably for the other men to drink—while the cook placed the covered dish onto the floor and poured some filtered water into cups. With a nod, he quietly withdrew to the corner of the tent, as though to ensure their meal was satisfactory.
The moment Hamid sat opposite her then lifted the lid, the delicious scents of meat and rice and spices poured free, and she forgot all about the other man. Hamid’s dark eyes glinted. “I bet you’re hungry.”
She sniffed appreciatively, eyeing what appeared to be some kind of flatbread with yellow-colored rice and a yogurt sauce swimming with tantalizing pieces of lamb and a sprinkling of pine nuts on top. She blinked. He sure didn’t eat like some half-starved desert rat. “This food is fit for a king.”
