Once we arrived, it was past time to start dinner. Poe emerged from his office and stretched right and left. Being an author was taxing on his body and his mind. His books did well and made it possible for me to be…me. That and Holt’s income.
While I took out the chicken thighs I’d thankfully already marinated, Poe drifted to the stereo, one of his prized possessions, and put on a record. Our routine.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked. “Need any help?”
“Want to make cilantro-lime rice?” I ticked my chin toward the ingredients already sitting on the counter.
“Yeah. I can do that.”
Holt made his way inside after a while. Soon after, I heard the shower before he came out dressed in jeans and a shirt he wore to funerals and town council meetings. I grilled the veggies and chicken and let them rest while I took a shower of my own. Another of my quirks was that I hated cooking odors clinging to me while I ate, even if it was good food, which mine was.
The smells clinging to my hair and clothes made me feel icky. Couldn’t explain why, but I’d learned to accept myself with all my idiosyncrasies intact.
“How many chapters did you get done today?” Holt asked as we took our seats and filled our plates.
Poe reached for the back of his neck as though it carried the answer. “Six. Any more than that, and my brains feel like mush. I stopped at a critical moment, but it’s a good place to pick up tomorrow morning.”
“Better than stopping when you don’t know what to write next,” I said.
We’d had this conversation before.
The normalcy was good for us. The routine. But at times, it was a flashing neon-sign reminder of what we were missing out on. A life with an omega. Once we found her, our life would revolve around her, as it should.
As dinner progressed into dessert, Holt became more agitated. Not on the surface. Not the human part where we could see it, but my wolf knew he was on edge. Why? He couldn’t explain. Holt didn’t bounce his knee or become short with his answers. His wolf reached out to mine through the brotherly pack bond we shared.
Something was up.
And Holt and his wolf almost at his breaking point.
“I’m gonna skip dessert tonight. I’ve got some things to look into. In town. In…in the town.”
Poe and I shared a look. The going-into-town part was far from abnormal, but Holt was rock steady, even in the worst situations. Not squirrely or weird, like he was right now.
“Be safe.” Poe plopped blueberry-peach cobbler onto his plate then got up. There was no cobbler without ice cream in his book.
Who could blame him?
“Always am.”
And with that, he was out the door. No uniform. No walkie-talkie. It was still plugged in by the door where he kept his sheriffy things.
Holt was up to something.
“That was weird, right?” Poe said, sitting down with a pint of caramel ice cream.
“Yep. But sometimes he gets weird, right? I mean, if there’s a case or a mystery.”
Poe laughed, hard. “You’re confusing Holt with someone who is the sheriff of a murdery town. Nothing ever happens in Pleasant. Maybe a neighborly feud.”
“Huh.”
Holt would tell us when he needed to.
“Pass me the ice cream,” I said.
Chapter Five
Karissa
