“You have two bathrooms?” I grinned. “That’s a freaking luxury.”
“What I don’t have is a magical cabin in the woods with bears.” He pulled a tin of soup out of the pantry cupboard.
I slid off the stool and headed to the bathroom. The walls and tile were a sterile white, but the pale-yellow towels softened the space.After I’d done everything I needed to do, and was still struggling to wrangle my thoughts, I headed back to the kitchen. As I passed the dining room table, a display caught my notice. “You planning a feast?”
“Huh?” He gazed over at me.
“All these recipe cards.”
“Yeah, no. Come slice some cheese.”
As I made my way to the bar stool again, he hustled over to the table and gathered up all the cards lightning fast.
“Were they in some kind of order?” I used the knife to open the plastic wrap covering the cheese.
“Nothing I can’t recreate.” He headed back to stir the soup.
“Are you hiding something from me?” I cut the first slice.
He eyed me. “Maybe. Just…some incomplete research.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Mostly speculation.”
I cocked my head. “I have something I want to talk about.”
He echoed me. “Sounds serious.”
“Because—” I toyed with the knife. “The thing is…I don’t know if I’ve found something or not. You’ve got me all paranoid. Looking for conspiracies where there aren’t any.”
“How do you know there aren’t?” He continued stirring the soup. “Mission City has secrets, Finn. Even if you claim you don’t—”
“Hey, I don’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “And that might be true. For you. But that doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone. Otherwise, why would you need police?”
I winced. “Yes, sure, we have criminals, but this is…weird.”
“Okay…so we’re in agreement that there’s likely something going on. What have you found?”
“There’s something hinky about the adoption papers for almost a dozen dogs.”
“Oh?” Ulysses flipped the bread.
More sizzling.
My mouth watered. Then I let out another breath. “Yeah.”
He pulled two plates down from the cupboard. “You want to stay where you are or sit at the table? Oh, or we can sit on the couch.”
“Table’s fine.”
We pulled up chairs at the table and settled into eating our meals. My stomach churned, but Ulysses ripped the crust off a piece of his sandwich and dunked it in the soup. “So…you ready to talk?”
“Talk? Oh, right.”Now or never. I just have to trust him.
And so I did.
