Page 60 of Rule the Night

“Hired” wasn’t what I’d call it.

The woman named Reva came around the island.

“You’re a pretty little thing!” I caught the hint of a Southern accent. “You do all that cooking?”

I nodded. “It’s easier to make things in advance.”

“Ain't that the truth!” She grinned. “Well, it sure looks like you know what you’re doing, sweetheart, but if you need any pointers, you let me know. I come to clean but I know my way around a kitchen!”

Poe coughed. When I glanced at him, he looked like he was about to swallow his own tongue. What was wrong with him?

“Thank you,” I said. “I definitely will.”

“And just in case, I left you some of my meatloaf. It’s labeled in the fridge, ready to go.”

“That’s so nice of you,” I said.

“Yeah, super nice,” Poe said. “You’re the best.”

Why did he sound so weird?

“Well, that’s all for me, I guess.” She lifted a jacket off the back of one of the dining room chairs and put it on. “I’ll see ya’ll in a couple days.”

We waved goodbye and she started down the stairs. The door shut behind her and Remy entered the room wearing jeans and no shirt.

Because of course he did.

His blond hair was damp, like he’d just taken a shower, and the ink on his shoulders rippled as he crossed the room. He stubbed his toe on one of the island chairs, swore, hopped for a few seconds on one foot, then continued as if nothing had happened.

“That Reva?” Remy asked.

“Yep,” Poe said. “She left us meatloaf.”

I walked to the fridge.

“What are you doing?” Remy asked.

“Checking out Reva’s meatloaf.” I was always curious about other people’s cooking.

I found the unfamiliar pan, pulled it out of the fridge, and set it on the island.

“You don’t want to do that,” Poe said.

“What are you talking about?” I found a fork and peeled back the foil on the loaf pan. “I’m starving.”

“Um…” Remy started.

I cut off a bite of the meatloaf and popped it in my mouth.

Gagging was a reflex. I leaned over the sink and let the food fall out of my mouth. “What the…?”

Remy winced like he could feel my pain.

“We tried to tell you,” Poe said.

I washed the bite of food into the garbage disposal and took the fork back to inspect the meatloaf. “What is this?” I prodded a gray chunk in the meatloaf. “Is this… salmon?”

“She mixes it in because she says the omega-3s are good for us.” Remy sounded like a sad little boy forced to eat his vegetables.