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"What? The kid likes pizza, "I said defensively.
She shrugged, unconvincingly trying to affect nonchalance before replying, "I didn't say anything. I am pretty thirsty, though, after that run. Do you mind if I grab some water from your kitchen?"
I narrowed my eyes at her. She was up to something. "Knock yourself out," I told her and watched her closely as she rounded the kitchen counter and opened the fridge to get a bottle of water. When she rose, a bottle of water om hands, her lips pressed together into what I knew to be a dissatisfied line.
I looked down at Wolfie, who watched the two of us carefully. "Wolf, will you do me a favor? Go find your socks and shoes. We're going to drive Reagan back to her place so she can get cleaned up, and then, we're going to go shopping- we’ll have to save the park for another time," I told him and was slightly relieved when he seemed excited by this for the first time. I didn't blame him. I'd be excited about getting school supplies, too, if it meant getting to hang out with Reagan.
Stop it, Rollins.
Once Wolfie was out of earshot, I turned back to Reagan. "Okay, spit it out. What do you want to say?"
"Nothing, it's nothing. It's just…you two can't live off of pizza and sugary cereals. And when I looked in the fridge, it was nothing but sodas and junk. It's a case of diabetes waiting to happen."
"Are you shaming me?" I asked in mock horror, putting my hand dramatically on my chest.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Adam, you're a doctor, for God's sake. You should know what stuff to feed the kid, much less yourself. God, do you live off this all the time?"
"What if I do?" I asked argumentatively. This was it. This was the good stuff I loved, going back and forth with her—it made me feel alive.
Her eyes bulged slightly in disbelief. "How the hell do you manage to look like that," she asked, sweeping in her hand to indicate my form, "and eat all that junk?"
I slid up closer to her, breathing in her musky scent. I didn't know if it was talking about what she thought of what I looked like or merely because she was present, but I could feel a strain in my pants as I neared her, drinking her in. "Oh, so you think I look good."
Suddenly, realizing what she must've implied, she pressed her lips into that stubborn, little line again. "No, no, no, don't you think about taking it back, you can imply that I look good."
"I am implying that it's a miracle you're not a corpse, considering all of the junk you're eating," she snapped.
I moved up next to her as close as I could without touching her, telling her in a taunting voice, "Come on, admit it. You still think about what I look like."
Her shoulders slumped somewhat in defeat, then straightened in defiance. "I will admit nothing," she said stubbornly, staring me down.
I relented…a little bit. "Look, I meant to get some healthier stuff at the store. But right now, this is what the kid likes, and I'm just trying to keep him happy. I admit, I am in over my head, which is why I asked you for help."
She seemed to take my admission as somewhat of an apology, which it sort of was. "Well, I'll take some responsibility. I should've been doing more than just checking in on FaceTime. We're going to have to make a couple of other stops than just school supplies today, though. We need to get you stocked up with some healthy options. And before you say you don't have time to cook, I will prep some damn meals and stick them in the freezer. But you two are going to help me. I'm not just going to do this on my own," she said, waving a warning finger at me.
I put up two hands in a placating gesture. "No argument from me. You are the sheriff in town, and we are just your lowly servants."
She glared at me, but I could see her fighting back a laugh, especially when Wolfie came up behind me. "We are Reagan’s servants?" he asked, confused.
I looked at him with a wide smile. "I was just joking. But Sheriff Reagan is in town, and you and I have to toe the line," I told him, waggling my eyebrows, so he understood that I was just teasing Reagan.
Mischief twinkled in his eyes. "If Rea is the Sheriff, then I am her deputy," he announced. "That means I can lock you up, Uncle Adam," he informed me.
"I like the way this kid thinks," Reagan said. "I think that is a fine first order of business, Deputy Wolfie. And now that we have our prisoner, we need to go get you loaded up with some goodies, starting with the school supplies, then with some healthy snacks and such."
He looked at her suspiciously. "You're not going to make me eat broccoli, are you?"
She looked at him, shocked. "Nobody's going to make you eat it. You get to eat it," she said.
Wolfie looked at me horrified, but I just shook my head. "That's what you get for wanting to be her deputy," I said in a low voice, poking at him.
***
A short time later, we were all buckled up in my car as Wolfie proceeded to chatter like a magpie to Reagan, telling her all the things that we'd been up to.
I loved the way she asked questions instead of just nodding and smiling like a lot of adults did with children—like I used to do with children, honestly. She was actually engaged in conversation with him, and I appreciated that.
Working our way through traffic, it almost felt like a family in that car, and it created a warm sensation in my chest that I was not expecting. It also didn't help that Reagan was sitting over in the passenger seat of the car in that tight little get-up that left nothing to the imagination. It just reminded me of everything that I missed. We had been with one another for a few short hours that one night, and yet, I missed her. It was a beguiling sensation, like I was somehow missing a limb.
