Page 71 of All the Missing Pieces

I tried to force my focus to stay on his face, not to dip to those shoulders and chest, but I couldn’t help it. That damn tan uniform shirt strained slightly over the curve of his shoulders. And that star glinted over planes of muscle.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Ridley?” he asked, that perfect brow furrowing.

“Sorry,” I croaked. “Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet apparently. Breakfast should be ready in five.”

“Thank you. You feeling okay being on your feet?”

My grip tightened on my mug as I took another sip. “I feel pretty good. Just a little sore.”

Colt studied me for another long moment, as if trying to tell if I was lying to him. “Okay. But don’t push it today. You need to take it easy.”

I made a humming noise that wasn’t exactly a yes. What I needed was to borrow a computer until I could get a new one, and log into my files saved in the cloud. Then go through all the paper files from the van and try to put together who the hell was doing this.

Colt crossed to the coffee maker. Pulling out a mug, he poured himself a cup, black of course. “Don’t think I missed how you didn’t exactly agree to that.”

A small chuckle slipped free. “I promise to rest if I feel I need it. How’s that?”

“You’d say you didn’t need it after hiking Everest,” he muttered.

That had me fighting a grin. Maybe the grumpy sheriff knew me better than I thought.

“So,” Colt went on. “What has my kitchen smelling better than it has in years?”

“It doesn’t really have a name, but it’s a greens and egg casserole.”

Colt’s face scrunched like he smelled something bad. “Greens?”

I turned to face him. “You had them in your freezer; you can’t tell me you don’t eat them.”

He shook his head. “I put them in a chocolate protein shake so I don’t have to taste them.”

It was my turn to be disgusted, which I demonstrated by gagging. “Chocolate and greens?”

“You don’t taste the slimy green stuff,” Colt defended.

“Well, try it this way. I think you’ll like it better.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Are you some sort of health nut? One of those vegans who eats nut cheese?”

I choked on a laugh. “Since I said it’s aneggcasserole, I think you’re safe from nut cheese. But there are a few good kinds.”

Colt gave an exaggerated shiver. “No, thank you.”

“After you live on fast food and vending machines for six months, it loses its appeal.”

He leaned against the counter, studying me. “So you were forced into the health-nut life.”

One corner of my mouth kicked up. “I guess. Taught myself to cook with limited ingredients because my fridge is super small. But it forced me to get creative, and I found I liked it.”

The timer dinged as if to punctuate my point. I grabbed the oven mitts and slid the casserole dish out of the oven. The egg, cheese, and veggie concoction was lined with crescent roll dough I’d found in the fridge, and it smelled incredible.

Colt leaned over my shoulder. “It looks really green.”

I rolled my eyes and moved to grab plates. “I promise the scary vegetables won’t get you. Now grab us some orange juice and sit.”

He glared at me but did as I instructed while I plated the casserole. I was pretty damn proud of my creation, but the true test would be Colt’s reaction. We sat and I waited as he studied his plate. He cut off the smallest bite he could manage and waited for it to cool. Finally he slid it into his mouth.

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