“Anything other than a knot will shorten this rope too much,” she said. She could already see that even completely unknotted, it was likely too short to reach the counter. She looked over at Evan, at the eager expression on his face. He had marks on his cheek from the rough cement floor where he’d slept. “And it’s been a while since I ran down a heifer. I’m out of practice.”
“Funny. Okay, try your method.”
Noelle stuck both hands through the bars at the bottom of the front of the cage. The door, the bars of which were too small for her hand to fit through, took up the rest of it, and so going low was her only choice. She could feel Evan’s eyes on her, feel his tension mixing with her own. As best as she could from the awkward position, she tossed the rope up and out, but it flopped uselessly on the floor, a good foot away from the counter and nowhere near as high as it would have needed to be to reach the surface. “Damn,” she muttered.
She gave it a few more tries, just to prove to herself the fruitlessness of that plan, but then pulled her hands back through the bars, tossing the rope aside.
“Yeah, damn,” Evan muttered. To his credit, he didn’t ask her to pass the rope to him so he could try what was clearly impossible. He’d seen as well as her. “Any other plan?” he asked instead.
She sighed, heading back to the tray of food and reaching for the bread. Next to her, she heard Evan moving too. “Trade you half a pat of butter for two peach slices,” he said.
She whipped her head in his direction. “You got a pat of butter?”
He nodded, holding up the small rose-imprinted square, a tiny piece of plastic covering it.
She stared longingly at that miniature package of creamy goodness. When was the last time she’d eaten any fat? Didn’t you need fat to live? She was pretty sure she’d read once that fat was what carried vitamins and minerals to your brain. But they also needed vitamin C. How long until scurvy set in anyway? “Deal,” she said, scooping up the two remaining slices of peach and holding out her cupped palm to him.
Evan eyed her hand. “Some of the juice too,” he commanded.
She narrowed her eyes but pulled her hand back through, turning to the tray. Why does he think he has any right to make demands? Evan Sinclair was simply used to getting his own way, and right now, while trapped in cages, it was in their best interest to cooperate. Even with someone I loathe. She drank all the water in her cup in three big gulps and then scooped half the peach juice up before again reaching both hands through her bars and offering the cup and the fruit.
While she’d been turned away, he’d begun to cut the pat of butter in half using the small piece of plastic that had covered it. He finished just as she shoved her hands through the bars. For a few beats, they both locked distrusting eyes, each obviously trying to figure out the best way to exchange their items. Someone would have to let go first. Evan thinned his lips as he placed the half pat of butter still on the paper bottom on the floor, using his finger to push it toward her. It slid to the edge of her cage. For the breath of a moment, she was the one in possession of all the goods, and by the look on his face, he had bet on her integrity, at least in this matter, but wasn’t at all sure if it would pay off. Noelle leaned forward, placing the cup on the ground so he could reach it, and held her palm open.
Their eyes met and locked as he took the fruit from her, brought his hand back, and popped the peaches in his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed, letting out a small moan of delight.
Noelle looked away, picking up the butter and licking it off the paper. She wanted to cry as the rich, salty cream melted on her tongue. She closed her eyes, savoring each delicious swallow, sucking at the inside of her cheeks so she tasted every last bit.
“How long do you think we’ve been held hostage?” he asked.
She opened her eyes just as he tore the paper cup to give himself access to the inside. He brought it to his mouth, licking the paper clean of the juice that had been in it. She didn’t blame him. If she could manage to turn it and slip it through the bars without spilling the last drips, she was going to pick up her tray in a minute and lick any remnants of juice on it too. She just wanted to enjoy the buttery taste on her tongue a few minutes longer.
Noelle licked the small piece of paper the butter had been on. “I don’t know. I tried to keep track at first, but—”
“They didn’t do anything on any particular schedule,” he finished.
She nodded. “And the darkness was discombobulating.”