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It almost sounds like he’s mocking me, but that can’t be, can it?
“And yet,” I throw back at him, “you gave me wine.”
“Everyone loves wine.”
“Uh, no, not everyone.”
Silus grins at me. “Would you prefer something else? I could call the waiter back and have the chef cook you something else. Do you want what I’m having?”
“No,” I’m quick to say, making him chuckle in the process. “My child’s palate is fine with chicken and fries, thanks.” I want to be insulted at his words, but there’s no heart behind it. I can’t be, because it’s true. I love chicken and fries. You have to be very bad at cooking to go wrong with deep-fried chicken and French fries.
“That’s what I thought.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. Silus and his chicken alfredo and me and my chicken tenders and fries. The fries are salted to perfection, and I end up devouring them first. There’s nothing better than crispy, golden fries with the perfect amount of salt. Dip them in ketchup and you have heaven at your fingertips.
“What would you grow?” Silus’s question catches me so off-guard that I don’t respond right away, which makes him repeat himself, “In your garden at this hypothetical house in the middle of nowhere, what would you grow?”
“Um.” I have to take a moment to think. It’s not a question I’ve ever been asked before. Then again, no one besides Silus knows about the house in the middle of nowhere, not even Max. “A bit of everything, I guess.”
“Like what?”
“Food. I’d love to learn how to grow tomatoes, peppers, beans, potatoes, that sort of thing. Pumpkins would be neat, too. Maybe even some corn. You know, try to be a little self-sustaining since no stores are going to be right down the street.”
Silus watched me as he chews and swallows a piece of chicken. “Is that all?”
I rip into a chicken tender and dip it in the ketchup. “No. I’d grow flowers, too.”
“Flowers? What kind? You don’t seem like the sort of girl who likes flowers.”
Whatever he means by that, I’m not sure, so I send a glare his way. Is he saying I’m not girly enough to like flowers? Jerk. “I like flowers just fine. Maybe not in a bouquet—they’re stupidly overpriced and pointless because they just die—but in the ground? Yeah, I like flowers. It’d be cool to grow some, have a yard full of tons of different kinds.”
“A lot of flowers means a lot of bugs.”
“I don’t mind bugs—unless we’re talking bedbugs or roaches, in which case I’m out.” When Silus smiles at me after that, my stomach flips, and though I try to fight the way my body reacts, I just can’t.
He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and sitting with him here like this, it’s easy to forget I’m his prisoner.
“Would you have any animals?” Silus asks me. “Other than the unicorn I’m supposed to bring with me.”
God, this guy… he probably thinks he’s a regular comedian. He’s not, and I should tell him that, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “Maybe. Having a horse or two would be neat. A cow. Some goats. A big dog, too. Oh! And a cat.”
“And if I said I’m allergic?”
“Tough luck, buttercup.”
The laugh that comes from Silus then is deep and throaty, and I stuff a big piece of a chicken tender into my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else that might make him laugh like that. Even his laughter is sexy. How wrong is that?
Silus tells me once his laughter dies down, “I’m not allergic, but thanks for the kind words, love.”
“Hey, this is my daydream, not yours. You wanted to climb Mount Everest, you freak.”
“I’m a freak for wanting to be on the highest point in the world?”
“Uh, yes? You are aware people die all the time trying to get to the top, right? And then they just let the bodies lay there because it’s too hard to bring them down.” I’ve seen things online. It isn’t pretty.
Silus takes a small sip of wine. “It sounds as though you care for my well-being. I’m touched. You may say you don’t care, but you do, and that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside—”
I get him to shut up by throwing a chicken tender at him. It lands on his chest and falls to his lap, leaving a few crumbs on his black suit as it goes.
