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As she pushed her empty bowl away fifteen minutes later, she took a drink of water and smiled at him. “Do you know all my secrets now?”
“Hardly,” he said, stabbing his fork into a piece of lettuce. “I found exactly what you said I’d find -- only what you wanted to share. Anacortes High School. USC. Northwestern law school. An uncomplicated, wide open past.” He looked at her as he ate his forkful of salad. “Is any of it true?”
“I went to all those schools,” she said, surprising him. “So yes. All of it’s true.”
“How much of what was in your high school yearbook was made up?” Cody asked.
He only noticed her tighten her fingers on her fork because he was watching. “None of it was made up,” she finally said. “You saw my high school picture. I was on the basketball team. The soccer team. I got good grades.” She shrugged. “It’s a high school yearbook. You think I could fake that?”
“Sure,” Cody said immediately. “Easy enough to hack into the high school’s account before the yearbook was printed and change whatever you wanted to change.”
He watched her carefully, but she merely shrugged. “I didn’t do that. And no one else did it for me. It’d be a lot of work, and for what?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one who’s so mysterious about her past.” Cody heard the frustration in his voice and took a drink of his iced tea. He needed to settle down. He couldn’t let his lack of answers about Sierra Baker frustrate him like this.
Sierra held his gaze as she took a drink of water. “The sports I played, the clubs I was in, the activities I was part of -- that’s all true. And the picture was me, as well.”
“Fine. You were a jock in high school. You were in a lot of clubs. Had a lot of interests. Straight arrow all the way.”
She grinned, and it lit up her face. Made her much more approachable. “I wasn’t exactly a straight arrow. I went to parties. I drank a few beers. Pulled some stunts with my friends.” She waved her hand. “Typical high school stuff.”
He wanted to ask her to expand on the ‘stunts’. But all he said was, “I’m guessing you were a ring leader of the stunts.”
She shrugged one shoulder, but her eyes twinkled. “I’ll never tell. We swore each other to secrecy.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets.” In spite of himself, he smiled as he pushed away from the table. He liked this version of Sierra Baker. Carefree. Playful. Laughing.
He’d guess Carefree Sierra hadn’t put in many appearances recently.
Sierra rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher while he wrapped up the leftover sauce and stashed it in the fridge. By the time they were finished, the sun was beginning to set.
“I need to check the chickens and make sure they’re in their coop,” he said. “You want to come with me?”
“Sure. I’ve never been around live chickens,” she said, lighting up. “I’d love to go with you.”
He handed her Laila’s smaller Carhartt barn jacket, then shrugged on his own. He waited while she snapped the closures, then led the way out of the house.
The sky was pink and lavender, and the sunlight was rapidly fading. The temperature had dropped when the sun went down, and there was a chill in the air.
A few chickens were in the enclosure, pecking the ground. Most of the hens had gone into the coop, where they were probably already roosting. Maurice was in the enclosure, no doubt waiting for the rest of his hens to get with the program.
“Maurice, get your ladies into the coop,” Cody said, knowing that hearing his voice would set the rooster off.
Sure enough, the big rooster charged at the fence, leaping into the air at Cody. Sierra jumped back, stumbling a little on a rough patch of ground.
“What the hell was that about?” she said, staring at the rooster.
“Maurice doesn’t like me, and the feeling is mutual.”
The remaining hens had fled into the coop, and only Maurice was left outside. “Get into the coop, old man,” Cody said to him, watching the rooster’s feathers ruffle as he stared at Cody.
When Cody looked away, Maurice strutted over to the ramp into the coop, flapped up to the door and disappeared.
“The door has an electric eye. When it’s a little darker, the door will close. Won’t open until the sun comes up tomorrow.”
He took Sierra’s arm and led her back toward the house. She glanced over her shoulder at the chicken coop, then shook her head. “That rooster looks mean,” she said.
“He is. If you ever have to go into the coop and he jumps at you, grab him. Hold him tight. That’ll establish your dominance. Then you can let him go.”
