The Hunter and His Prey

Chapter 40: Wine and Questions

I snorted and almost spit out my drink as I laughed at Ian's latest story of his hilarious grandmother. This woman was a gem. I  truly wish I had met her.

I coughed and cleared my throat before exclaiming, "She did not do that!"

He laughed himself. "I swear to you she did. She cut holes in everyone of my grandfather's pockets until he fixed the broken banister. And he did two days later after he realized that he didn't have any pants without holes in the pockets."

"Your poor grandfather," I reply with a laugh and finish my glass.

Ian gets up and takes my glass. "Want more," he asks but is already filling up mine.

I shrug. "I shouldn't, but why not!"

"My grandma always said a bottle of wine is never to be left with a drop in it by the end of the night. Never was as good the next day," he says and he fills in and sits back down on the floral couch across from me in the living room.

"Wise lady," I agree and take a sip.

"I'm jealous of your childhood. It sounds like it was a lot of fun growing up here with them."

"It was," he sighs. "Obviously there were its issues. But I wouldn't have traded my life for anything," he declares.

"That's really sweet," I reply, but feel my heart ache a bit for my dad.

"Ah, ah, ah, no frowns aloud here, this is A happy  place," Ian calls out to me and shakes his finger at me.

"Sorry," I reply and sip again. "Let's play 20 questions. I think I should know more about the person watching over me and my safety for the time being," I offer with a cocked eyebrow.

He nods. "Deal. If you choose not to answer you drink. Sound alright?"

"Fine with me, as long as I can go first," I say with a smile.

"Go ahead darling," he counters as a sly smile spreads across his face.

My brain itches then. It's almost as if something is tugging at the edges. The corners of it.

"Violet," Ian calls out to me again. "You're taking a while to think of this question."

"Oh, um, sorry," I stutter. "How old are you?"

"Such a simple questions," he says with a chuckle. "I'm 32.  My turn. What is your passion?"

"My passion," I say with a laugh, but I already know, but wish he didn't ask.  "Um art. It used to be at least."

"Used to be," he questions.

I take a drink and wag my finger at him. "It's my turn for the next question," I playfully chastise him, but it's all a ruse to avoid the question he asked.

"You got me," he said with a chuckle and a wink.

"When is your birthday," I asked, keeping it simple though the wine inside me was making tempting thoughts begin to break through the barrier of sweet innocent Violet. I wasn't quite the innocent perfect little flower everyone thought I was. Deep inside me burned a fire that wanted to escape its confines and set its blaze upon the world, but I smothered it quickly with a sip, more so gulp of wine and sweet smile.

"Day after tomorrow," he answered causing my eyebrows to leap up in surprise.

"That's a shame," I commented.

"Why's that," he questioned in return.

"That you'll be stuck here babysitting me when you could be out having fun," I replied honestly. A little nugget of guilt filling the small bit of empty space in my gut.