Page 20 of The Hero
And just like then, the second their tongues touched, he was lost in her.
It took every ounce of strength he had to pull back. He stared down at her and realized they were both breathing hard. She’d grabbed hold of his shirt and fisted the material as they’d kissed. She looked as shell shocked as he felt.
Their host approached, speaking a mile a minute, and pulled them to the other side of the room, where there were two pillows on the floor with a basin of water in front of each. She gestured for them to kneel on the pillows. Then she demonstrated how they should each clasp their own hands together and hold them over the basins.
Mentally shrugging, Bob did as the woman requested.
Their host grabbed a small, elongated shell and dipped it into another bowl of water sitting on a nearby table. She spoke in a low, even tone as she slowly poured the bit of water over Bob’s hands. Then she refilled the shell and did the same over Marlowe’s hands. The officiantcame over and did the same thing, pouring water first over Bob’s clasped hands, and then Marlowe’s.
Their host handed them small towels to dry their hands and tugged them to their feet, before pulling them toward the kitchen.
“I guess that was some sort of wedding ritual?” Marlowe asked softly as they followed the woman.
“I’m sure it was,” Bob said with a nod. Even though they were on the run, could be discovered at any time, turned in by a neighbor or even the officiant himself, Bob relaxed as he sat at a small table in the kitchen. This was his wedding day, after all.
His lips turned up. Honestly, those were words he never expected to say or think.
Once they were seated, their host presented them with a large platter piled with different foods. He looked over at Marlowe in time to see her wrinkle her nose. His Punky really did eat like a ten-year-old.
This time, Bob didn’t even think twice about the possessive pronoun. Marlowe really was his now. Ignoring their host standing nearby, waiting for them to dig in, Bob leaned over and whispered in Marlowe’s ear, “I promise that as soon as I can, I’ll get you some Oreos, Pop-Tarts, and maybe even a Twinkie to celebrate our marriage.”
She giggled and looked at him almost shyly. “It’s okay. I mean, she went to a lot of trouble to put all this together for us. I should be used to this kind of food by now.”
“Used to it, but not liking it,” Bob said dryly.
“It’s good for me,” she said with a shrug as she turned back toward the platter.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She looked at him again and without even one second of hesitation, said, “Yes.”
“Let me serve you then,” he told her as he reached for a fork.
Marlowe nodded.
Bob carefully picked through the platter, looking for items he thought she might enjoy more than others. He avoided the seafood,already knowing she didn’t particularly like it. He speared a bite of what he thought was chicken and brought it up to his own lips. It was definitely chicken, but he suspected it was too spicy for Marlowe.
He found another piece that looked like chicken, tasted it, nodded, and brought a bite up to her mouth.
Marlowe didn’t take her gaze from his as she took his wrist to hold the fork steady and leaned forward. She opened her mouth, and he fed her the piece of meat.
“Okay?” he asked.
She nodded after she swallowed. “It’s good.”
They continued like that for a while, with Bob tasting the bits of meat and vegetables on the platter to find something he thought she’d enjoy. It was an intimate experience for them both, and neither spoke much as they ate.
Their host approached and placed a bowl next to the platter. It sounded as if she was apologizing for something, maybe for delivering the new dish late, but it was the gasp of surprise and delight from Marlowe that had Bob smiling.
“Ramen!” she exclaimed. “Oh my God, it looks amazing! We had lots of rice at the prison, which was what I was basically living off of, but ramen is one of my favorite things to eat back home.”
Bob frowned. “Surely that’s not all you could afford?” he asked.
Marlowe laughed. “Oh no. I mean, it’s cheap, but I actually like the taste,” she said a little sheepishly.
Bob let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Here, the fork’s all yours.”
She took it and dug into the bowl of noodles with enthusiasm. They weren’t ramen, not like she was probably used to. It was actually pad thai, a style of noodles popular in the country, but Bob was pleased Marlowe had something to eat that she truly enjoyed.
