“You could end up with pants to fit a Ken doll.” She glanced at the battery-operated clock on the living room wall. She was shocked it was already after five o’clock. “Your pants won’t be dry for a while—and not tonight if we air-dry them. It will be dark in a few hours.” Outside the kitchen window, the shadows were long under the partially sunny sky. “Do you want to stay another night? You can get a bright-and-early start in the morning.”
“That depends.” Blue-blue eyes twinkled. “Are you going to chain me to the bed?”
Only if you like it that way.
She couldn’t believe the flirty retort that popped into her head. Bondage wasn’t her thing, and she could not, would not contemplate any sexual activity—even in jest—with a Progg, no matter how much she enjoyed his company or how attractive she found his physique. She scrubbed her eyelids to erase the image of him stepping out of the shower, water sparkling on his silvery skin. His magnificent—
“What would be the point? You’d only get loose.” She followed his quip with one of her own. It still blew her away that he’d found a means to free himself.Thank god he did.
“Then yes, I’d like to stay,” he said, and she let out a silent sigh of relief.I’m still jumpy. He’s protection.The reluctance to see him leave had nothing to do with enjoying his company and their fledging friendship.
“Let me take care of the clothes.” She took a breather by hanging his pants on a rod in the laundry room.Good grief, I’m doing my prisoner’s laundry.She shoved the rest of the stuff in the dryer, realizing she’d need to add fuel to the generator if they spent the night in the house.
Reentering the kitchen, she took her seat at the bar again. “Eat.” She motioned.
He dug into the peaches with an expression of bliss. She wondered what kind of food he’d been eating that made canned peaches such a treat. Maybe it was only the novelty of human food. Most everything she’d given him had met with his approval, except for the cardboard power bars, although he’d eaten them. Did anybody really like those?
“Will we spend the night here? Or go back to the cave?” he asked.
“Funny, I was thinking about that. The cave is hidden. The house is better defended,” she analyzed aloud. “With the doors locked, someone would have to break in, which would cause a racket, so we’d have warning. And there are multiple escape exits.”
The scumbag had just walked in—but that was her fault for leaving the garage door up.
“The cave has one way in and out, and we could be cornered. On the other hand, to my knowledge, nobody knows it exists. It’s not invisible, but it’s not eye-catching, either.” It wasn’t on topological maps. She’d checked when she’d first presented to her parents the idea of using it.
“The house is in plain sight. Anybody on the road can see it.” She felt like a fish in a fishbowl even with the blinds drawn. “Plus, if we keep the generator running—and that would be the primary reason for staying in the house—it can be seen and heard.”
In addition, the house had been desecrated. She’d almost been violated here. She felt the attacker’s presence like an evil aura. “We’ll spend the night in the cave,” she decided.
Chapter Fourteen
They hiked through the woods, carrying the suitcases, being unable to roll them over wet, mushy ground. Grav had offered to take both of them, but Laurel had insisted on lugging her own.
Although he had surprisingly fond memories of the cave, he thought the house would have been a better choice—for the reasons she had outlined—doors that locked, multiple exit points, and amenities like hot water and light. However, he’d only stay one more night, anyway; he’d be leaving in the morning. If part of him wished she’d ask him to stay, he understood why she didn’t. They’d reached a truce, but he was still a Progg.
He sensed she didn’t feel safe in the house anymore after what had happened.
He shuddered at how close he’d come to losing her. Her death would have haunted him for the rest of his life—and he’d continue to worry about her after he went on his way. He cared about this woman. When she’d taken him hostage, his goal had been to get her to empathize with him—instead, he’d come to empathize with her. He felt her pain at the loss of her family, her people, her way of life. He hadn’t had a direct hand in the global massacre, but he’d facilitated it by supporting those who had. He felt like a monster.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said.
“What’s a penny?”
She chuckled. “Itwasa one-cent unit of currency. Our government stopped minting the coins because they cost four times more to make than they were worth. Most people didn’t use cash anyway, but the saying lives on.”
The cost of sharing his thoughts would be greater than the ideations themselves, but fortunately she chose not to pursue the conversation.
Surreptitiously, he studied her. The purple knot stood out on her forehead, stark evidence of how close she’d come to dying. Outcomes often hinged on the tiniest detail. Change a single factor, change the end result.
What if he hadn’t been able to reach the ladder rung that had slipped off the bed slats? What if it had taken him longer to free himself? What if he hadn’t followed her to her parents’ house? What if he’d arrived much earlier or much later?
In preparing for the invasion, they had learned of the planet’s violent history, how the Earthers had fought among themselves, the powerful, advanced factions conquering the vulnerable, less developed ones. Grav recognized parallels between humans and Progg, the only difference being the Progg targeted other worlds, not their own.
Besides fearing she might run into his people, he worried about her encounters with her own.
They slipped behind the camouflage brush and entered the cave. Warmer than the outside, it was nowhere near as comfortable as the house. Light filtered through the bushes into the entry passage and the main chamber, enabling them to see, but Laurel lit an oil lamp. “Don’t knock this over, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, chagrined. He remembered his panic at thinking she had the plague.
