The Isle Of Sin And Shadows - Keri Lake Page 0,107

spattered on the backsplash. The plan was to throw together a quick meal, but the lack of seasoning drew it out a bit.

Also, I took the liberty of pouring a glass of wine, because why not? I’m out in the middle of the swamp, after all. Who’s going to issue me a minor in possession out here?

The alcohol has me feeling warm and tingly, and a little too happy and enthralled by the sizzle sound when I toss the shrimp into the pan.

“Look at dat. Mais la, dis gon’ be good.” I chuckle at my poor attempt at Valir, and kick back another sip of wine.

“Nice try, chère, but your accent is a bit forced.”

At the unexpected voice, I spit a small bit of my wine, the drops of red spittle mingling with the dark of the soy sauce on the backsplash, and I twist to find Thierry standing behind me, loosening his tie, nose crinkled in disgust.

“Oh, God, I didn’t expect you …. I mean, I thought you’d be a little later. With the bar.”

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. My closet. And my wine collection.”

He strides toward me, lifting the bottle, and I watch as his eyes scan over the label. “This is a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine. Half gone.”

“Two hundred? For grapes? What kind of id—” I catch myself before the insult flies past my lips. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have touched it if I’d known. I’ve only had wine once? Not really sure how the taste coincides with the price, since it all kind of tastes the same to me. It’s good, though. Really good.”

Groaning, he sets the bottle down and reaches for one of the larger wine glasses hanging upside down from beneath the cupboard. “Wine like this, you savor. Not throw back like a bottle of Boonesfarm at a college party.”

“Strawberry Boones was my favorite, if you must know.”

“Fill the glass about a third full.” After pouring the wine into his own glass, he tips it to the side and seems to study the slant of dark liquid inside for a moment, before standing it upright and inhaling the scent. Then he sets it down onto the counter and swirls it, allowing the wine to climb the edge of the glass, before smelling it again.

“I didn’t realize there was a ritual to drinking wine.”

Finally tipping the glass back, he takes a short sip and licks those heavenly lips, before setting the glass back on the counter. “Everything you put in your mouth should be savored.”

“Ah. So, when you tear off the heads of innocent baby kittens, do you savor them first, or swallow them whole?”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “Your water is boiling over, peekon.”

With a jolt of panic, I rush toward the bubbly foam spilling over the pot of noodles. “Peekon. What’s that?”

“Thorn.”

“How sweet. For a second there, I thought we were onto endearing nicknames for each other.” I turn down the flame and wave one of the dishtowels over the foamy overflow, to send it creeping back into the pot like a defeated kraken. “I have one picked out for you, as well, and funny, it’s what a thorn does when you touch it.”

“I have to admit, I find you mildly entertaining. For a pain in the ass.”

“And I find you mildly charming, for the hole of said ass.” Noodles slop over the edge of the awaiting colander I’ve set in the sink’s basin, as I empty the pot into it. “You’re going to love this. I’m telling you, the seasoning I made for it is stupendous.”

“I’m not eating that after you showered your wine all over it.”

“Oh, come on. The heat will cook any bacteria in my mouth.”

“I have a feeling yours is the rebellious, resistant variety that would take the infernal flames of hell to kill.”

Snorting a laugh, I rinse the noodles with the kitchen sprayer, splashing all over the wall behind the spigot. The guy is probably about ready to push the button to a trapdoor that’ll send me down a chute and straight into the jaws of Moses beneath the boat. A thought that has me glancing down at the tiles beneath my feet. “I promise most of the mess hit the backsplash. And I’ll clean it up. Which reminds me, I’m pretty sure I scared off your housekeeper today.”

“Housekeeper?”

“Jo? Lives down da ways from you?”

Rubbing a hand down his face, he groans for the second time since he’s been home and kicks