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I cram a crispy spring roll into my mouth and grab the container of fried rice, dump some on my plate, and start forking it in.

“Slow down. I don’t want you choking,” he says.

I swallow, perplexed as to why he even cares, but I do what he says, mostly because I don’t want him to jump into action and perform the Heimlich maneuver on me if I do choke. I leave the rice and fork out some less-risky pad Thai instead, talking to distract him. “You don’t do that often.”

He swallows a mouthful of food. “Do what?”

I grab a chicken wing and wave it in the air. “Say grace. Or give thanks or whatever it’s called.”

He scratches his neck before replying. “Eat your food.”

I shrug and carry on gorging myself on Thai food until I belatedly realize I should have eaten light. I should be planning to leave in a hurry, not overindulging in starchy foods that will slow me down. I push the plate away, groaning at my stupidity.

“What’s up with you?” he says.

Thinking fast, I gesture downward. “My feet are cold.”

He chews his food, searching my face, then gets up and walks over to his pack. With his back to me, I can’t see what he’s doing, but when he turns, a pair of balled-up socks is in his hand. “Here. They’re clean.”

He tosses them to me, and I snatch them to my chest, bewildered at his act of kindness.

“Nothing wrong with your appetite, though,” he says.

I’d be more insulted, but I have made a pig of myself. Something I’ve never done with a man before.

“I told you I hadn’t eaten since this morning,” I snap.

His eyebrow hitches as he forks rice into his mouth. “Yeah. You never told me why?”

I ignore him and unfurl his socks. They’re thick, wool, and padded in the heel and toe. I stretch out my leg and tug one over my foot. It’s two sizes too big, but they’re soft and cozy.

“So, you were planning on taking a yacht to…”

My eyes snap to him as he looks to one side as though thinking.

“Either the Bahamas or Cuba. Both are common smuggling routes.”

As confronting as it is, him telling me what my plans were, it’s not surprising. That’s literally his job.

“What does it matter now? I’m not going anywhere.”

He uncaps a bottle of water and takes a swig. “No. You aren’t. But I’d still like to know.”

“In case I try to keep to the same plan?”

His lip curls. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I laugh lightly even though all my muscles have primed. “I nearly drowned today. I’m hardly likely to try to get on another boat.”

His finger taps the water bottle. “Sure, but just in case, smuggling doesn’t usually end well. The ones who make it to their promised destination alive are among the lucky ones. And even if you’d made it to your location, there would have been no guarantee that there wouldn’t have been someone waiting to take advantage of you as soon as you arrived.”

“I… I was aware of that.”

“But you were still prepared to risk it?”

“What choice did I have? You made it impossible for me to stay.”

He glances down at his empty plate. “I did. You robbed me of my honor. I wasn’t going to sit back and let you make a fool of me.”