That leads my mind to skip over other possibilities. Riggs asked me to think about what to do with this place before making any rash decisions, and he might be right. If I can make things grow here, despite the wasteland this place seems to have become, I might find a use for all the soon-to-be-empty pastures.
I crack my neck and wash my hands, using a little brush to get the dirt out from under my nails before drying them. Witha reluctant sigh, I head back inside, following the smell of garlic and oregano.
Music plays softly from Shepard’s phone, which is propped up on the island. He hums along as he chops fresh basil. He’s ditched the hat and his gun belt, which sit on the table. His gun is near him on the counter.
“You just gonna stand there and watch, or do you want to come help out?”
“I’m just going to stand here and watch.”
He grins wickedly as he looks at me. “What’s the matter, Poppy? You scared?”
“Only of your ever-growing ego. I’m scared that if I stand too close, it will smother me.”
He chuckles before nodding to the spot beside him. “Grate the parmesan. Food’s almost ready.”
“It smells good.”
“It’s just pasta.”
“Given the kind of pasta I’ve had to eat over the years, somehow I doubt that.”
He loses his smile at that, but he doesn’t say anything.
I move next to him and start grating the cheese. “Shouldn’t you be off chasing bad guys or something?”
“In this town?”
I look up at him and frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, in a town this size, there aren’t exactly many bad guys to catch.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m sure I could think of a few.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure you could. Of course, you might need that pesky thing called evidence.”
I snort. “Not always.”
My comment shuts him up, and we both go back to getting the food ready, only the silence is a little less comfortable than before.
“How about when I’m here, I leave the badge and hat in that chair. I’ll just be Shepard the man, not the sheriff.”
“And I’ll be Calliope the woman, not the killer?” I shake my head. “The world doesn’t work that way. We can’t make those things disappear when they’re between us for a reason.”
He sighs, turning to the stove, where I watch him for a moment as he adds pasta to the large pan of boiling water. “You know, I didn’t always want to be a cop.”
“Really? You give off that vibe.”
“What vibe?”
“The one that says you were born for it. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you shot out of your mother’s birth canal brandishing handcuffs.”
“Thank you for that disturbing imagery.”
“You’re welcome. I’m here all week.” I wink, snagging a grape tomato from the counter and tossing it into my mouth.
He places the lid on the pot before turning to face me. “I wanted to be a hockey player.”
“Really? Wait, where did you grow up?”
