Saving The Pirate (Book Two)

1. Pirates And Cooking

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"I told you already. No!" I screamed, storming to the door. Seeing this, Christopher lept to the entrance, blocking my only way out.

"And I already told you yes," he said with a witty smirk. I shot him an ugly look.

"Move it, Topher," I said, but Christopher didn't move, his lips did, though.

"You will do this, darling," he said. "You know you have to."

I walked back to his bed and sat down, crossing my arms. "I don't have to do anything," I said. 

Christopher sighed and walked to me, but I grabbed a nearby pillow and held it up in front of me as a shield. Christopher stopped in his tracks seeing this. Thank God!

Still holding the pillow out, I stood upon the bed. Christopher shook his head.

"What are ye doing?" He asked in a playful tone.

Furrowing my brows, I replied. "Taking whatever precautions needed to keep you away." And I was dead serious about this. There was no way Christopher was going to make me do anything. I can do anything I like; he can't take that away from me.

He clasped his hands together. "Anne. My love, my sweet, my darling, please grant me this. I will be forever in your debt. Just please do this for me!"

"Only you?"

"And the crew. Most definitely," Christopher pleaded.

I threw the pillow at him. "Never!" I shouted. "You can't make me!"

 After hearing that, Christopher smirked and unclasped his hands, and instead, moved them to his sleeves and began to roll them up.

Oh no.

"Oh, yes, I can," he said and lept up on the bed. Before he had time to grab me, though, I moved past him, jumping down and running out the door.

"Anne!" Christopher whined. I giggled at that as I ran down the hall and to my room. I was just about to make it when I heard hard footsteps coming behind me. And I already knew who it was.

I made a tight turn into my room and slammed the door behind me, then fell against it, trying to catch my breath and contain my giggles. 

I probably looked like an idiot.

Christopher's heavy feet stopped at my door. He groaned. "Darling, please? You know I can't cook."

"You know that's not my problem, right?"

Christopher was silent for a moment before saying, "you know that means you would have to eat it, right? "

Dammit! Why does this always happen to me?

Realizing this, I scrambled with what I was going to say next, and when I finally did, I sounded weak. "I'm not hungry."

I could already imagine his smirk of defeat. "Really? Was it not only this morning when you complained that there is nothing to eat?"

"I said I'm tired of salted beef!" I screamed back. 

"Same thing."

"Look, I am not hungry. If you are, then make something. I'm going to sleep."

"It's not even sundown yet!" Christopher complained. "How could you be tired?"

"How could you be hungry? You gorged down breakfast!" I fired back.