Page 20 of Warrant
“Thank you. After dinner I’d love to show you my gardens, and my greenhouse.”
“I’d love to see it,” I told her with a grin, and I meant it. She and my mom would get along so well together. They’d bond over gardening and knitting and grandbabies. I wasn’t going to mention that I couldn’t keep a plant alive to save my life. My idea of a plant needing something was to just dump more water on it. That usually didn’t work out so well. For the plant.
I was thinking about getting a dog. I needed a companion and that had to be easier to keep alive than a plant. Right?
“Have a seat.” Cindy eyed Alex’s hands as he came back just in time for everyone to pile around the dinner table.
“Beth is sorry she’s missing this,” Lucas said, helping himself to some of the pot roast Dale helped Cindy place on the table. “Her sister needed a sitter tonight and Beth offered to watch the crew until she got home.”
“I’ll send enough home for her,” Cindy said. “Be sure to let her know we missed her and Maxine.”
There was roast, potatoes and gravy, a variety of vegetables, and homemade rolls. My stomach rumbled.
“Heard that,” Warrant muttered so only I could hear.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You heard nothing.”
“Better than cereal right?”
Staring at him with my mouth hanging open, I wondered how in the world he could know I’d eaten cereal for three nights straight? Now why did I assume he knew that too, the three nights in a row part?
“That’s my go to when Mom doesn’t take pity on me and send me home with leftovers,” he explained.
Right.
Of course he wouldn’t know what I was eating. Or how much of it.
“Though Trix does hit just right sometimes.”
I blinked at him in shock. There was no way that was his favorite cereal too.
“Sometimes I’ll eat it two, even three nights in a row.”
“How are you liking Sentinel?” Dale asked me. This pulled me away from what was about to be labeled the Sentinel-Trix mystery.
I smiled at him. “It’s a great town. Everyone’s been really-” I paused as Warrant started dishing up my plate. I must have taken too long and he took it upon himself. But my eyes widened at how much he was shoveling on. Putting my hand out I blocked a fifth spoonful of mashed potatoes.
“Do your parents live close by?” Cindy asked, distracting me again.
“About four hours from here, toward the state line,” I told her. By the time I looked back at my plate there wasn’t a spare inch of room. There were four rolls piled on top of my roast. I gave Warrant a look of disbelief, but he was already busy making himself an identical plate. I knew the man was interested in me, but I didn’t realize he harbored a fetish for watching women eat mass quantities of food. There was zero chance I could finish all this.
Everyone’s plate, except Cindy’s, looked exactly the same. No wonder there was so much food on the table. I’d never lived with a man. Only had a couple semi-serious relationships, but I didn’t remember any of those men eating like they had a tapeworm. These men did though.
Of course they were ranchers, it was easy to tell by the work clothes and the calloused palms—mmmmm—and I knew that meant long hard days of working outside in the different weather conditions that Wyoming provided.
I had to bite back a moan of delight as I popped the first bite of pot roast into my mouth. The flavor was better thanany restaurant I’d ever had it in. And much better than cereal. Feeling eyes on me, I glanced over and glared at Warrant.
He grinned at me. “Good, right?”
“So good,” I said, and there might have been a little moan at the end. Which was embarrassing enough, but I also caught Alex staring at me with his mouth hanging open.
When he grunted and scowled at Warrant and I was pretty sure he’d gotten kicked under the table.
“It was so nice of you to invite me to dinner,” I told Cindy.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I always make too much.”
Probably because her kids and husband were black holes. They were already halfway through their plates. I never did understand how men could breathe while simultaneously shoveling food into their mouths. But I didn’t say that out loud. Most of my thoughts remained inside as I observed. It was what made me a good cop. Couldn’t let people know what I was thinking.
