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That makes me furious.
It also makes me furious that as I watch Alden stalk to the fridge and produce a jar of pickles—really, pickles for fine dining?—I start to think about how he feels about all this. Did he have a choice? Was this Scarlet’s idea all along? Since he was adopted by her, has anyone ever asked him what he really wanted to do with his life? Does he enjoy this, or does he just do it because he thinks he owes Scarlet big time for saving his bacon from the street?
Thankfully, I’m saved by the grilled cheese.
Literally.
Alden arrives carrying a plate laden with grilled cheese sandwiches—cheese and tomatoes oozing out from the sides—and a hearty stack of pickles on the side. He sets the plate down on the table between us and sits down with an ogre-like grunt. He doesn’t look at me as he takes one sandwich off the stack and slides it onto my plate. He adds two pickles.
His shirt sleeves are rolled up again, and damn me if his forearms aren’t giving me some serious ovary twinges right now. The heat is back, crawling up from my ankles and ending at my hairline at the top of my head. I rub my legs together under the table to try and get rid of the friction, but of course, it only produces more right in the core. Sigh times a thousand. Why does he have to be so attractive? Why couldn’t he be a hairy troll with a tail? Even then…No, not even then. What is wrong with you? Uhhh, try a serious lack of action. Ever. Plus one uber-hot dude. Make sense now?
Alden heaps four sandwiches and eight pickles onto his plate. He goes at the food like he’s not going to see another meal, and those twinges shift from my ovaries up to the organ slamming against my ribs. Right. That would be my heart. I remember what his brothers said, and it makes sense why he hoovers food the way he does. I mean, he could just be really hungry, but maybe he eats like that because it’s a habit. Because somewhere in his subconscious, he thinks he’s not going to get another meal.
I’m going with hunger here since I’m not about to pity my captor. He’s perfectly capable of being a good person now and not making bad decisions. No one is forcing his hand. Scarlet wouldn’t do that, and I do believe she’s a good person. Alden could have just come to me like a normal person, and we might have gotten off on a better foot.
Now he’s about to be the one going for a big long snooze.
Would it be too much if I tied him to his chair and left him there all night?
Ooooh, I like that. Ropes. Gags too? Sounds kinky.
I don’t know where that voice is coming from, but I ignore it and start nibbling the sandwich, which is surprisingly pretty good. He used cheese slices, not the real stuff, and everyone knows those make the best grilled cheese. You’re not going to change my mind on that. Ever. The pickles are also delicious, crisp, and tangy, and it drives me slightly nuts that he’s following the rules that you can’t have grilled cheese without a pickle. It would be a crime.
I realize I should be agreeable so that he drinks his wine and sits there and lets it work its sleepy magic. “Uhh, so…I like your brothers.” Not what I was going for there. Now that it’s out, I decide to work with it. “You were right. They seem pretty awesome.”
“They are.”
Right. So, not exactly the conversation I was hoping for. “Is this what you want to do with your life?” Why? Why not ask if he likes the damn weather here?
I’m surprised when Alden nods easily. “It’s important to me. To help people. That’s everything to me. My dad used to want to be a hero when I was young. But even as a kid, I knew I never wanted to be like him. I saw him do things. Things that you…you can’t imagine. Horrible things. He wanted me to see, he wanted me to know, and he wanted me to be just like him. He was trying to train me. When I wouldn’t follow his directions, or I purposely messed things up, he…well, he wasn’t pleased.”
I don’t know what that means, and it makes me uncomfortable to imagine a child having to live that life. Did his dad beat him? Or make him hurt other people? God, did he see his father murder someone? I’m glad I have most of my sandwich down already because I can barely look at it right now. If my parents had lived, would that have been my life?
“Anyway, I wanted to be a fireman, actually.”
