Yeah, that had to be it.
Now, where the heck was the kitchen in this place?
* * *
Patience? Garret snorted. Since when had he been known for having any patience? He wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now. And he’d decided what he really wanted was his mate.
Well, he couldn’t find her on an empty stomach, he knew that much for sure. He strode into the kitchen and turned towards the large, walk-in pantry, coming to a stop just outside the open doorway.
Well, now, this was interesting.
An intruder. He watched as the person, who was dressed in black jeans, a black hoodie, and gray sneakers, reached up on tippy-toe for something on the higher shelf.
Short, he noted. Slim too. Obviously hungry. Someone from Oldstown who thought they’d find themselves a free meal at the castle? And possibly more? Rumors of their gold had existed for years. But no one had ever managed to get through the booby-traps Sawyer had set, let alone over the wall and into the castle.
And he certainly hadn’t expected that their first intruder would be a woman.
How old was she? And what the hell did she think she was doing?
As she grabbed the box of Twinkies he’d placed up high on purpose, he knew he had to act. Twinkies were expensive and they were hard to come by. They were also his favorite.
“Put the Twinkies down gently and step back slowly,” he said in his most commanding voice.
The petite intruder froze then turned, hands in the air, box of Twinkies held precariously high over her head.
He frowned. “I said, put the Twinkies down.”
* * *
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
She stood there, frozen on the spot and stared at the man standing a few feet away. He was grinning. Good sign. He was blocking the only way out. Bad sign.
He looked relaxed. Good sign.
But he was big. And muscular. Bad sign.
Fuck.
Yeah, she really needed to get past that. Think, Gigi. Why hadn’t she left when her stomach started rumbling instead of spending twenty minutes searching for the pantry? And how had she let him sneak up on her? She should have been on high alert.
It was the Twinkies’ fault. She’d nearly cried when she’d seen them up on the shelf. She hadn’t had Twinkies in so long she’d forgotten what they tasted like.
He raised his eyebrows. “Am I going to have to fight you for them?”
“What?”
Fight? Oh, shit. She was in trouble if he wanted to fight. He was a head taller than her and at least a hundred pounds heavier. Gigi was a lightweight. She barely reached five-foot-two and she could get the scales to read a 100 if she wore seven layers of clothes and her heaviest boots.
“The Twinkies. Put them down slowly and no one will get hurt.”
“You are threatening to hurt me over Twinkies?” She couldn’t really blame him. They were sooo good. And she’d nearly had her hands on one. Why couldn’t he have come along ten minutes later? She’d have been in a delicious sugary food coma. He could have done what he liked, and she wouldn’t have cared.
“I’d hurt my own mother over Twinkies,” he warned.