Page 37 of Captive of Outlaws

Will and Rob return, Rob sipping a tumbler of whiskey and Will bearing a wineglass that’s nearly the size of my head, full of a healthy pour of red.

“There you go,” Will says. “Cotes du Rhone, 2009 vintage. Tell me what you taste.”

I lift an eyebrow at him as I accept the drink. But I shrug.Sure, I’ll humor you. I lift the glass to my lips and take a long sip.

And then another.

“And?” Will says. All three of them are looking at me expectantly.

I have no idea what to make of this wine beyond the fact that it’s pretty good, and it’s red. “What am I supposed to taste?”

“It’s got a spice forward profile on the nose,” Will says. “With a jammy finish.”

“Whatdoyou taste?” Rob asks. “Just out of curiosity.”

I take another, third sip, just to be sure. “Grapes,” I answer.

Rob and Tuck burst out laughing. Will scowls, but smiles a little too. I crack a grin.

It’s hard not to feel at ease. Yes, I’m literally on the run from the law. No, I don’t know these guys well at all. But it’s a beautiful late-spring evening, the scenery is gorgeous, the wine is rich on my tongue, and they’ve shown themselves several times to be generous, if not trustworthy.

Maybe...just maybe, I can enjoy myself.

“I COULDN’T EAT ANOTHERbite,” I say. “Seriously.”

Tuck’s dinner was impossibly good—slow-roasted pork with a heaping garden salad dressed with zingy lemon and dotted with figs.

“Don’t hold back on our account,” Will says, lazilycircling the rim of his glass with his finger. “I can’t stand those girls who don’t eat.”

I cock my head at him. That second glass of wine made me bold, apparently. “You seriously think after that display that I’m a girl who doesn’t eat?” I stare at myveryclean plate. “I eat plenty. Just usually I’m a box mac-and-cheese girl. But this’ll work too.”

“She’s got you there, Scarlet,” Rob says, grinning. “A pretty lady with a healthy appetite.”

I blush in spite of myself. Am I really so starved for affirmation that a passing compliment is enough to get me stammering? Or is that wine truly going to my head?

I hope it’s not the latter, because I don’t refuse a refill as Will wanders back over with the bottle.

Glass number two becomes glass number three, and as the guys rib each other and joke around, soon we’re engaged in a game of Two Truths and a Lie.

“Lie,” Will drawls, pointing at Tuck with his glass. “Cliff-diving in Mexico? You’ve never been out of the country.”

Tuck wiggles his eyebrows and sips his beer. I giggle—and I’mnota giggler. The wineisreally going to my head. He looks at me.

“You agree with him, Maren?”

I lift a shoulder. “I mean, you staying in during recess to read as a kid is so embarrassing ithasto be true.”

Rob gives Tuck a little shove on the shoulder. “She’s got you there, my friend. No one would make up that lie.”

“Aw, c’mon.” But Tuck’s smiling. He does a palms up. “Fine. You got me. No cliff diving...yet.”

The three of them go on a tangent about which of themis most likely to chicken out in an extreme sport, and I lean back and watch, the easy banter of the three of them like brothers, the relaxedmalenessof it all...I can’t help but enjoy watching.

I wonder which of them is the best kisser.

The thought comes out of nowhere, but my mental filter’s apparently gone, because I smile to myself as it crosses my mind.

Tuck’s probably nice and gentle, I figure. Nothing wrong with that. Will might be a bit withholding, kind of a cat-and-mouse kind of thing, pulling away to make you ask for more. And Rob would just...be in charge, I think.

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