Finally, she shook her head and tore open the candy bar from her MRE with trembling fingers. Stop it.
“It’s a joke, Chase. I’m not planning on quoting any Shakespeare.”
“Thank God for that,” he grumbled.
She cocked her head as she sniffed the candy bar. Ordinarily she didn’t eat candy, but these were extraordinary circumstances. She took a bite—oh, yum—and chewed. When was the last time she’d eaten chocolate?
Too long ago, that’s for sure.
“You don’t appreciate the Bard?”
“The what?”
She rolled her eyes. “Shakespeare. The Bard of Avon. To be or not to be and all that.”
“Had to read Julius Caesar in high school. Boring as fuck.”
Sophie’s heart actually squeezed. What kind of barbarian didn’t appreciate Shakespeare? Her finest role in high school had been Lady Macbeth. Out, damned spot…
“You should try Hamlet. Or Macbeth. Romeo and Juliet. King Lear.”
Chase took a bite of bread. “Nope. Life’s too short to read stuff you don’t like.”
Not reading Shakespeare was a travesty, in her opinion.
“So what do you like?”
His gaze sharpened for a second. Then he gave his head a little shake and snorted. “Stuff with pictures. Dirty pictures, preferably.”
Sophie’s mouth dropped open. And then she closed it in a hurry. He was trying to shock her. Derail her. And she’d started trembling again. Damn him.
“How about when it doesn’t have pictures? What do you read then?”
“The newspaper, where I learn things like the fact Grigori Androv is accused of assaulting a hotel maid in Manhattan. Nothing as important as Shakespeare, obviously.”
The heat of embarrassment rolled through her. “You know, you don’t have to beat me over the head with my stupidity. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself.”
His gaze remained sharp and hot on her face. And then he made an expression of dismissal, as if he’d decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. “I get how you got involved with Androv—but why did you keep going out with him? You had to know he’d been accused of assaulting that woman.”
She stared at the envelopes arrayed around her and swallowed. “He was charming. Attentive. Gentlemanly. And it was entirely possible that woman was looking for a settlement because he’s wealthy. That’s what he told me—and I’ve seen similar things growing up, so it wasn’t impossible to believe.”
“You still believe him?”
Her eyes blurred a little but she swiped the moisture away. She was ashamed of herself for what she’d thought about the poor maid. For what she’d believed. “No, I don’t.”
Their gazes met, tangled. It was a long moment before she managed to rip hers away. She reached for the MRE for something to do.
“Careful,” he said. “It’ll be hot.”
It was indeed. She tore the packet open as directed and let some steam escape before she dipped the plastic spoon into it. It didn’t smell too bad, so she touched her tongue to the sauce.
It wasn’t gourmet, but it was pretty good when you were hungry. She spooned the bite into her mouth and swallowed. When she looked up, Chase was still watching her. His brows lowered, making his handsome face into a thundercloud.
“What?”
He dropped his gaze and ripped into his own MRE. “Nothing. Eat the food.”
“I was eating it. You’re the one who looked irritated about it.”
“I’m not irritated.”
“Sure you aren’t. You’re just Mr. Happy Sunshine all the time. I love that about you.”
He shot her a look, the spoon halfway to his mouth. Sophie laughed at the confusion on his face, though it was nervous laughter. There was something going on here, and she didn’t know what.
“Anybody ever tell you that you talk too much?”
“It’s been mentioned a time or two.”
“And you didn’t learn a damn thing, I bet.”
“What’s there to learn? That I need to be quiet just because people like you don’t like it? No thanks.”
He frowned even harder. His voice, when he spoke, was tight with anger. “How about that you need to be quiet so your Russian pals don’t follow the sound of your voice straight to this stand?”
7
Her eyes went wide, and Chase felt like a dick. Well, fuck, she did need to be quiet, but not because they were in danger right now. He’d checked the perimeter thoroughly, and he’d set up a couple of alarms that would trigger an alert to the monitoring system in the tree stand. Thank God for paranoid guys like Don who outfitted their land with state-of-the-art equipment just in case anarchy or the zombie apocalypse set in.