was sure she had never seen the appliance before.
“You cook it in there? In the cup?”
“It’s already cooked. The microwave heats it up.”
“Oh.”
When the timer rang after a couple of minutes, she took her lower lip between her teeth. “It does it so fast?”
“Well, it depends on how much you have. With more food, it takes longer.”
“Oh,” she said again, like he was explaining Einstein’s theory of relativity.
He took out the mug with a potholder and set it on the counter, along with a couple of spoons. “Be careful. The mug’s hotter than the soup. Use the handle.”
“Okay.”
After carrying her soup to the table, he poured the rest of the can into another mug. It wasn’t his favorite meal, but he could handle it.
She sipped cautiously. “It’s good.”
“Probably, you’re used to homemade.”
“Yes.”
“You know how to slaughter cattle?”
“I’ve never done it.”
When she didn’t offer any more comments, he leaned back and watched her eat. She was trying not to gulp the simple meal, but he could see she was hungry, and he felt guilty about taking part of the soup when he was only sipping it to keep her company.
Getting up, he found a box of crackers in the pantry, took out half a dozen, and put them on a plate, which he passed to her.
She ate them quickly.
“Finish up. Then you should get to bed.”
Obediently, she spooned up the meat and vegetables at the bottom of the mug.
When she’d finished and looked up, he stood and reached for the crockery.
“I’ve made extra work for you. Let me wash those,” she said.
“No need. I’ll just put them in the dishwasher.”
“The dishwasher. Right,” she said, and he had the feeling again that she’d come from another universe. Or at least an environment without modern conveniences.
Staying matter-of-fact, he showed her how to stack the mugs in the appliance. Then he escorted her to a bedroom next to the bathroom where she’d showered.
She tensed and he wondered what she thought he was going to do—grab her? He took a step back, but because he didn’t want her to stumble around in the dark if she got up in the middle of the night, he pointed out the overhead light switch, as well as the lamp on the bedside table.
Then he left, because he couldn’t help feeling awkward standing in a bedroom with her.
WHEN she’d closed the door, Kenna breathed out a little sigh. He’d left her alone, when he could have continued the heated scene they’d started in the kitchen. But since then, it was obvious that he was working hard to distance himself from the intimacy.
She might have thanked him for that—if she’d felt comfortable bringing up the subject.
There was a door from her bedroom into the bathroom. After stepping through, she used the toilet, marveling at the way she could flush it when she was finished.
Back in her bedroom, she switched the lamp on and off, enchanted by the way the warm light flooded from under the shade at the press of a button. Then she turned off the overhead light at the switch and slipped into the bed. It was wide and comfortable, more comfortable than any bed she had ever slept in. And the coverings and pillows felt soft next to her skin.
She lay there for several minutes, staring around at the room, hardly able to believe that she was really here. In a lodge. In another universe. Then she pressed the switch on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Well, not quite darkness. A little light came in around the covering over the window.
Wriggling down under the covers, she lay with her eyes closed, trying to come to grips with everything that had happened. She’d fooled Talon Marshall into believing her story about escaping from the hills. No, she should call him Talon. And had she fooled him? Certainly he knew there was something strange about
“You cook it in there? In the cup?”
“It’s already cooked. The microwave heats it up.”
“Oh.”
When the timer rang after a couple of minutes, she took her lower lip between her teeth. “It does it so fast?”
“Well, it depends on how much you have. With more food, it takes longer.”
“Oh,” she said again, like he was explaining Einstein’s theory of relativity.
He took out the mug with a potholder and set it on the counter, along with a couple of spoons. “Be careful. The mug’s hotter than the soup. Use the handle.”
“Okay.”
After carrying her soup to the table, he poured the rest of the can into another mug. It wasn’t his favorite meal, but he could handle it.
She sipped cautiously. “It’s good.”
“Probably, you’re used to homemade.”
“Yes.”
“You know how to slaughter cattle?”
“I’ve never done it.”
When she didn’t offer any more comments, he leaned back and watched her eat. She was trying not to gulp the simple meal, but he could see she was hungry, and he felt guilty about taking part of the soup when he was only sipping it to keep her company.
Getting up, he found a box of crackers in the pantry, took out half a dozen, and put them on a plate, which he passed to her.
She ate them quickly.
“Finish up. Then you should get to bed.”
Obediently, she spooned up the meat and vegetables at the bottom of the mug.
When she’d finished and looked up, he stood and reached for the crockery.
“I’ve made extra work for you. Let me wash those,” she said.
“No need. I’ll just put them in the dishwasher.”
“The dishwasher. Right,” she said, and he had the feeling again that she’d come from another universe. Or at least an environment without modern conveniences.
Staying matter-of-fact, he showed her how to stack the mugs in the appliance. Then he escorted her to a bedroom next to the bathroom where she’d showered.
She tensed and he wondered what she thought he was going to do—grab her? He took a step back, but because he didn’t want her to stumble around in the dark if she got up in the middle of the night, he pointed out the overhead light switch, as well as the lamp on the bedside table.
Then he left, because he couldn’t help feeling awkward standing in a bedroom with her.
WHEN she’d closed the door, Kenna breathed out a little sigh. He’d left her alone, when he could have continued the heated scene they’d started in the kitchen. But since then, it was obvious that he was working hard to distance himself from the intimacy.
She might have thanked him for that—if she’d felt comfortable bringing up the subject.
There was a door from her bedroom into the bathroom. After stepping through, she used the toilet, marveling at the way she could flush it when she was finished.
Back in her bedroom, she switched the lamp on and off, enchanted by the way the warm light flooded from under the shade at the press of a button. Then she turned off the overhead light at the switch and slipped into the bed. It was wide and comfortable, more comfortable than any bed she had ever slept in. And the coverings and pillows felt soft next to her skin.
She lay there for several minutes, staring around at the room, hardly able to believe that she was really here. In a lodge. In another universe. Then she pressed the switch on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Well, not quite darkness. A little light came in around the covering over the window.
Wriggling down under the covers, she lay with her eyes closed, trying to come to grips with everything that had happened. She’d fooled Talon Marshall into believing her story about escaping from the hills. No, she should call him Talon. And had she fooled him? Certainly he knew there was something strange about
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