I watched as he poured water into the pot, his hands steady and practiced as he mixed in the herbs. The smell was a pungent mix of earth and bitterness. He kept his gaze on the pot, avoiding mine.

"I can't tell you that," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

I rolled my eyes. "Ralph, how?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

Since we were alone, I didn't have to call him Barron anymore and I figured I might as well push my luck.

He shook his head, carefully filtering ...