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“Oh, yes,” he said, leaning back in the chair with a sigh.

“Long day?”

“Very long. Murder investigations are the worst. I’ve got a prime suspect, but I can’t make an arrest without concrete proof. It’s frustrating.”

She put a dish of meat loaf and one of mashed potatoes and one of steamed cabbage on the table, which was already set with thin porcelain plates that had a floral pattern. The silverware all matched, too.

“You look surprised,” she commented.

“Yes. Your silverware matches,” he added, picking up a fork and studying it. “No two of mine back in my apartment are alike, and most of my plates are chipped,” he added.

“Poor man,” she teased.

He laughed. “Well, what I have is functional, at least.”

“I like pretty things,” she said, offering him the plate of meat loaf.

“So do I,” he said, but he was looking at her with blatant affection.

She flushed. He put meat loaf on his plate and then mashed potatoes.

She hesitated with the bowl of steamed cabbage. “Don’t feel you have to eat this just because I cooked it,” she said. “My father loathed steamed cabbage.”

“It’s one of my favorite dishes,” he replied softly.

She brightened. “Oh.” And she handed him the bowl.

They ate in a comfortable silence. It didn’t take long to get to the pie. He was hungry.

“You’re a wonderful cook,” he remarked.

“Only to a starving man,” she teased. “Didn’t anybody offer to feed you?”

He shook his head. “I had a hamburger with your sheriff at lunch, but he didn’t buy it for me. No worries,” he said, when she looked disturbed. “The Bureau gives us a meal allowance.”

“Thank goodness. You have to have regular meals or your health suffers, especially in a stressful line of work.”

“I usually grab a candy bar or a protein bar when I’m working. I don’t have time to cook at home and I get tired of takeout.”

She glanced at him. “That’s why I cook. I don’t like takeout.”

“The pie is awesome.”

She grinned. “It won a prize at the county fair last summer,” she said proudly.

“County fair? People still have those?” he exclaimed.

“It’s a small community,” she reminded him. “You might have noticed all the different Christmas decorations and the displays in the windows? Everything in cities these days is generic. Not in Raven Springs. We’re traditional. We even have Christmas carolers who go door to door and get invited inside to drink hot chocolate!”

“Oh, good Lord, it’s like stepping back into a 1950s holiday black-and-white movie,” he groaned.

“Go ahead and say it,” she chided. “Come on. ‘Bah, humbug!’”

He laughed deeply as he finished his pie. “I’m not much on holidays.”

“You get off from work for holidays, don’t you?” she asked.

“I usually volunteer to work on them, so the men and women who have kids can stay home on Christmas, especially.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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