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I’m like one of Pavlov’s dogs, she thought idly as her mouth began to salivate.
The cushion to her right dipped, and the sizzle of freshly cooked meat walloped her senses. The scratching of plastic on paper touched her ears. “I hope you like stir fry,” Manhandler said. “Open.”
She did so without argument. Frankly, it didn’t matter what they cooked, as long as she got to eat. Thankfully, it was delicious. She moaned as the flavor exploded on her tongue: rice and broccoli floret and tender steak all covered in teriyaki sauce. She was in heaven.
Moaning as she began to chew, Elise didn’t bother hiding her pleasure. There was no telling when or if she’d ever have another moment like this again, free to enjoy the simplest of pleasures in life.
Hell, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d tasted anything so delicious. Which was probably partly due to the fact that it was a rare meal that she hadn’t had to cook for herself, and partly because it didn’t come out of a microwavable box.
As good as those meals were, they had nothing on home cooked. Nothing.
“Good?”
Swallowing, she said, “Mmm, so good. You’re a great cook.”
“I’d say thanks, but my partner is the chef. He’s a total dick—”
“Hey, I heard that!”
“But he knows his way around a kitchen.”
Elise was well and truly shocked. Should she thank his slap-happy, brute of a partner, or keep her silence and pray he didn’t take that as an affront too? He seemed to leap into anger at the flick of a switch.
“Here, have some more.”
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. Opening her mouth, Elise accepted the offering of food once more, allowing her moans of approval and extreme enjoyment to speak for themselves. At some point, his partner came into the room to consume his own meal in front of the television, and seeing as he didn’t yell at her or issue any threats, she figured he had found his center for the moment.
That was a blessing in itself.
After she was stuffed full, Elise sat back and stayed quiet while Manhandler treated himself to his own dinner, which she actually considered very thoughtful and found it was more than a little endearing. He’d seen to her care before his own. That in itself told her he was a good man. Well, at least not as bad as the situation would suggest. He had manners, values, morals—however loose they may be. It gave her a modicum of comfort to know that he wasn’t the devil incarnate.
It could be worse, she reminded herself.
The nightly news followed after the game ended, and Driver turned it down to a whisper, grumbling about nosey reporters and bullshit information. He seemed to be peeved about something regarding their speculation over who they were and what their motivations were. Frankly, Elise was curious to know that too, but she wasn’t about to vocalize anything.
No, she stayed mute in her little corner of the—cabin?—and continued collecting what meager bits of information she could.
Manhandler was quiet, aside from the gentle, repetitive creak of the chair he sat in, which she concluded must be an old rocker. Since there was nothing more to do, and she could feel the hours ticking by and her energy waning, Elise allowed her mind to run free, her focus on that littlecreak,creak,creakonly a few feet away.
She started with a picture of a little cabin, bathed in shadow and dappled with sunlight set against a pristine, glittering lake beyond a sloping, evergreen-covered hill. The cabin was old, rustic, with chipped green paint the same shade as the moss growing on the north side of the trees. Inside, she saw scarred hardwood floors and aged furniture dating back to the seventies. Nothing fancy, nothing new, but everything was warm and cozy, lived in, and welcoming.
She smelled freshly-baked cookies, and when she looked to her left, she saw a man with hair the darkest shade of black that curled at the nape slowly rocking in his chair as he read the newspaper. When he heard her enter, eyes the color of honey flicked up and lit with warmth as a stunning smile that bracketed his mouth with fine crinkles spread across his face.
He was gorgeous, lighting her insides on fire and setting her heart to racing. “You’re back early,” he said as he folded the paper neatly and set it aside. Unfolding from the chair, he rose to a great height, forcing her head back as he approached and took her face between hands that were strong and calloused.
She found that about as sexy as she did his appearance. To Elise, there was nothing more attractive than a hardworking man with a great smile.
“I missed you,” she replied coyly. Lifting to her toes, Elise wrapped her arms around his wide shoulders and nudged his nose with hers. “Did you miss me?”
“Every second.” Lowering his head, his lips skimmed across hers in a soft, teasing manner, tickling the sensitive flesh.
A giggle percolated in Elise’s chest, his playful demeanor so opposite his normally strong, brooding character. “Kiss me,” she demanded on a whisper, and just as she tasted his breath on her tongue, she felt her body begin to shake.
“Hey.” Manhandler’s voice roused Elise from what she slowly began to realize had been a dream. One she was loath to leave behind.
“Hmm…what? What’s going on?” she asked groggily, and for a brief moment, enveloped in absolute darkness, Elise almost forgot where she was. Her hand went to the strap of cloth covering her eyes, but her captor knocked it away.
“No, that stays on,” he informed her. Taking her hand, he guided her to her feet. “You fell asleep. I thought you might want to go lay down in the bedroom.” It seemed he wasn’t going to wait for her answer, as he was already leading her to, she assumed, a bed.
