Saving The Pirate (Book Two)

2. Tricks

I finished (actually, scratch that, remade) Christopher's stew and was ready to serve. I was so proud of it and wanted to rub his face in it.

Take that Topher.

I arranged enough bowls out for the crew and called them to come and eat, and come they did, as they formed a line outside the gallery.

I smiled to myself. I had it in the bag.

"Well, come and get it!" I said confidently and moved out of the way.

The crew swooped in, grabbing a bowl, poured themselves a serving, and found a seat amongst themselves.

I was looking for Christopher, hoping to get a reaction out of him, and found him at the back of the line, smirking to himself.

Bloody hell!

I couldn't believe it. Why was that pirate smiling? He should be offended, hurt, maybe even embarrassed, so why the hell was he smirking!

I found out as soon as he came up to the bowls, but instead of grabbing one, he grabbed my face.

"So my lack of skill at something makes you come running, huh? Maybe I should try that more often, " he purred while winking and gave me a small peck on the lips.

Before I could say anything, Christopher grabbed a bowl, scooped himself a serving, and found a seat while I was left dumbfounded and standing in front of the room like an idiot.

He tricked me. The bastard outfoxed me. Oh, whoa is me!

I must have stood there motionless for a while or so because when I turned to face the men, they were all snicking, while Christopher sat back and enjoying himself.

The audacity.

Trying not to make myself blush, I spun around, grabbed a bowl, scooped myself a serving, and walked across the room next to the smirking Christopher, where I quietly ate my meal.

I had nothing to say to him because I didn't know what to say to him.

He tricked me, and I fell for it. Again.

I didn't look up at him, and I didn't look up at the crew. I only sat and ate my meal, trying not to choke on anything—that, and restraining myself from any sort of violence I might create.

I knew Christopher was watching me from the corner of his eye. I felt it: he and his cocky ego.

What a bastard.

I couldn't tell if the crew was watching me, though, or just talking about me amongst their friends. Either way, I paid no mind. I was busy sulking in my stew.

The stew would understand. I depended on that.
 
"You alright, darling? You're quiet, " Christopher said when I was just halfway through my meal.

I didn't even turn to look at him.

"Just fine, thank you, " I said, playing with my food.

If it were possible, I felt his smirk. He was enjoying this. I knew he was, so I quickened my eating.

I wanted so desperately to get out of that room, but I had a feeling, an itch, that Christopher wasn't going to let me go that easily.

"This is tasty. An excellent job, as always, Anne, " he said.

And I was right; he was mocking me.

I couldn't help but turn my head to look at him. "I hate you, " I growled.

He rose a brow and lowered his face to mine, where we were just inches apart.

"I beg to differ, darling, " he said seductively. "You know you love me."