River looked up, she even smiled at him. “...he likes it.”
Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Continue.”
The woman’s grin expanded. “Say please.”
“I do not like your cooking.” Stephen stared at her, unblinking, stiff. “But you have proven to be an adequate hunter. You understand the necessities of survival here and adapt. You also read well.”
She cocked a brow, she even clicked her tongue. “It’s just one word. You can say it and I’ll never tell.”
“Please.”
He’d made the woman happy with so small a thing. She glowed as she sat back in her chair, husky words spinning the tale as if she made a greater effort to do well.
The nature of the tale was graphic, violent, but he grew soothed under the power of her voice. Perched on the couch, his ankle elevated, it seemed peaceful.
Peaceful was abnormal, causing him to interrupt her in the middle of a very gruesome murder scene. “Why did you choose this story?”
Resting the open book on her lap, she ran her fingers across the page. “I knew it would be comfortable for you.”
Brows drew down over displeased eyes, aware that was not exactly a compliment. Sitting up, he leaned closer. He was going to say something cutting but it would have only proven her point.
The lightest of quirks changed her lips, as if she knew he’d been verbally waylaid.
“I still do not understand why you live alone in the forest.”
The dark fringe of her lashes went down, her eyes found the book again. River continued to read.
Very few people would dare to disregard
him, she’d done so often. “Answer the question, woman.”
She glanced over the top of her book. “That was a statement.”
Stephen scooted fractionally closer.
Ignoring him, River continued the story, picking up right where they had left off.
Fingers hooked the top of her book and Stephen pulled it down so that she had to look at him again... so he could look at her.
So they could be honest with one another.
The female had known he was dangerous the second she fished him out of the water, yet she had invited him in, saved him from death by exposure.
He could hardly understand her. “Are you that naive or that fearless?”
River spoke a simple truth. “You’re not going to kill me.”
No, he was not. “Keep reading.”
* * *
Brushing against her when they tended the dishes, seeking to grab her attention with physical touch, had only irritated the woman. Demanding she take down her hair made her walk away.
It had taken another day, but he’d found a way to entice her into watching him.
Leaning against the wall of her house, her arms crossed over her chest, the expression on her face altered from confusion, to humor, to a sense of being impressed, all the way back to confusion again. After the more subtle failed initial attempts, gaining her attention had been almost laughably easy. All it took was simple, necessary exercises. Sit-ups had made her shake her head at him, the woman scuttling out of the way. It was the push-ups that followed... those had brought about the confounded look on her face and unwavering attention.
“How many have you done?”