Page 17 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

He pulls the key necklace out of his shirt and leans over me to unlock Baz’s handcuff, putting half his torso in my lap. He’s heavy and firm.Not that I notice. Not me, no way.

Stryker gets the cuff switched and tucks the key back into his shirt.

“Who’s Rosie?” I ask. Stryker turns his head my way, not removing his body from my lap.

“Rosie is Basil’s mom. She handles some of my meals. She’ll be cooking for you, too, except for dinners, which I make.”

Interesting. Apparently, Baz’s mom is part of the quack squad too. Good to know.

Heidi bursts through the door. “Rosie delivery in twenty!”

She throws herself down on the couch, crashing into Baz. He holds steady while she lifts herself off of him with a giggled “whoops!” He only shakes his head.

“What episode are we on now?” Heidi asks.

“’Rogercop’,” Stryker tells her,stillin my lap. I’m surprised at his answer. He really is watching these episodes. And, I assume, enjoying them. I remind myself that he is a criminal, and criminals are not in any way cute. Not even when they’re watching my favorite TV show and paying enough attention to make note of the episode names. Totally not cute at all.

“I love this one!” Heidi tells us. I nod in agreement, obviously. It is a masterpiece of modern television. She beams at me as Stryker moves off my lap and resumes his position against my legs.

We sit through ’Rogercop’ with added commentary from Heidi, who I’m learning doesn’t have a quiet bone in her body. She’s oohing and ahhing throughout, the same way she has all day, making comments periodically about the outfits, the bad guy, the plot, and the ridiculous love square.

She’s leading a post-episode discussion – with a shocking amount of participation from Stryker – when the front door slams open. I jump, and Stryker is up instantly, putting himself between the door and me.

“I brought lunch!” a British woman’s voice calls out. Stryker relaxes. He moves to the side, revealing who I assume is Rosie, based on her age and the large, overflowing elf-themed bag she’s holding.

She’s pale, like Baz, and has one of those chic bobs older women like to get. It looks like she’s embracing the gray, and it is seriously working for her. She’s wearing a gorgeous red maxi dress and the cutest pair of strappy sandals.

She’s by far the coolest woman I’ve ever seen, and I immediately decide I want to be her when I grow up – pending mental unwellness, anyway. On the face of it, she is the definition of aging gracefully, but appearances can be deceiving. For instance, outwardly Stryker appears to be the definition of male perfection, and I think we can all see how the book cover is not matching the book content on that one.

Baz stands up and moves toward his mother. He bends down to kiss her on the cheek, then takes the bag from her with a sweetly grumbled, “Mum.”

She pats his cheek in return and smiles at him, all love.

Then she turns to me.

“You must be Millicent!” she says, crossing the room to pull me into a hug. Muscle memory has me hugging her back. She squeezes me in that way that moms do, and I think I might cry. I haven’t had a hug like this in years – not since my own mom died. It’s nice.

I sniff.

“Oh, now, none of that, love. We’ll get you right as rain in no time. Let’s start with some food, yes?” She pulls away. I let her push me toward the kitchen, shaking off whatever longing I may or may not have to continue hugging the probably-crazy lady. Missing my mom is no excuse to snuggle up to the mentally unwell… probably.

We all convene at the kitchen counter, and Rosie starts to pull food from the bag. There are sandwiches and sandwiches andmoresandwiches. My eyes grow wide as she pulls them out, followed by a big bowl of fruit mix and another of pasta salad. It’s enough food to feed a little league. Or, I suppose, two massive men.

Rosie has Heidi fetch some plates, then she slides half the sandwiches to the men and splits the rest among us women. I end up with two. Next, she divvies out hugeportions of fruit and pasta to each of us. Stryker’s plate looks like it could bust at any moment under the weight it’s being expected to hold, and Baz’s isn’t far behind.

Instead of sitting at the counter – which doesn’t have enough chairs for everyone – Stryker leads the way back into the living room. He waits for me to sit in my claimed corner of the couch before taking up residence against my legs again. I don’t know what he hopes to accomplish by keeping my legs immobile. It’s not like I can go anywhere until I get this stupid handcuff off. He’s just pinning me down for the fun of it at this point. Jerk.

My plate is directly behind his head, and I consider “accidentally” getting mayonnaise in his hair. Unfortunately, that would lead to him showering. While cuffed to me.

That’s going to be a no from me, dawg.

Baz, Heidi, and Rosie settle in the living room with us, taking up spots on the couch and chairs. They dig into their food, and, having sadly decided not to dump my own on Stryker’s head, I join them.

Someone turns the show back on, and Heidi continues her commentary, only taking bites of food when Baz strategically shoves some in her open maw. The ease and skill with which it’s done makes me believe it’s not an unusual occurrence for them. Baz executes the bites seamlessly, never missing or getting sauce on her cheek, and Heidi sends him grateful smiles while she chews. It’s cute – for a couple of lunatics.

The rest of the day is much of the same. We binge the rest of season one ofMiraculous, pausing only when the gate guard from yesterday – Sal, I learn – shows up with dinner. I give him the stink eye, and he grins. My stink eye turns into a glare. His grin grows. I turn my nose up at him and look away, pretending not to notice Stryker’s attentionon me or the amused tilt of his mouth. They’re both jerks, and I hate them.

Fortunately, Sal doesn’t stay.Unfortunately, Stryker does.

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