Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
SURE ENOUGH, THE black SUV tailed us all the way home, and not very discreetly.
Then again, it was a lot harder to be discreet when the car you were tailing was the only one going exactly the speed limit.
But if Gauthier had felt threatened enough to send his one professional goon after us, the guy probably would’ve found a way to not make it so glaringly obvious.
As far as I could guess, we had until next Saturday to pass Gauthier’s inspections if we were to ever meet up with them for lunch.
In the meantime, his beefcakes would be pulling up everything they could find about us, following us to our respective jobs, watching from the street.
All the stalkerish things that, if they had a badge, would look disturbingly similar to what Colt and I did for our real jobs.
All we had to do was play our part without making any mistakes whatsoever. And if we blew our cover and Gauthier somehow found out who we really were, our chances of living would drop to zero.
No pressure, right?
It was this knowledge that kept me in that accursed belly inside the comfort of our temporary home, even after I’d bumped half a dozen things with it.
Chairs, the counter, the fridge door, you name it.
By the time I bumped a dish towel off the counter and onto the floor, I huffed in frustration.
And by “huffed,” I mean it was more like a low pitched scream a manic buffalo might make.
Same thing, basically.
I ground my teeth together, glaring at the offending towel with all the contempt I could muster.
All those jokes about pregnant women trying to pick stuff up off the ground?
Yeah, those were actually founded in truth.
It wasn’t impossible to do, but it sure wasn’t dignified or comfortable.
Picture squatting while reaching around a beach ball, except the beach ball is attached to you and making your stomach and only your stomach sweaty.
Even with the tank top I put on between my skin and the stomach to keep it from squelching—another fun kink I’d had to work out over the past few days—the sweat couldn’t be tamed. Not in this Michigan humidity.
Kind of like my hair, honestly.
“What was that unholy noise?” Colt looked up from the kitchen table where he sat with a pocket-sized notebook open in front of him. “Did the demon possessing you try to break free?”
I shot him a sardonic smile. “It just wanted to say hi. Hell has been pretty lonely since you escaped.”
His lips twitched as he returned his attention back to the notebook. “With Hell as the alternative, I can’t see why the demon would choose to possess you instead.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of the refiner’s fire? Maybe the demon is trying to become a saint by putting up with you for two months straight.”
“You give me entirely too much credit,” he tsked. “Especially since sharing a body with you would earn it a ticket to heaven alone.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Oh, undoubtedly.” At my triumphant scoff, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. “I’d say I’ve earned my ticket from enduring you.”
Well, shoot. I didn’t expect him to twist my words that way. Tricky little snake.
Worse yet, I couldn’t come up with a response. I could always come up with one. Except when it came to him, in which case it was fifty-fifty on whether I’d come up with a sarcastic quip or resort to making his office setup crooked.
At my hesitation, his smirk only deepened. “Is there anything you need from the grocery store?”
I blinked, thrown off by the abrupt topic change. “What?”
He sighed, as if explaining himself was the greatest inconvenience he’d ever faced in life.
“I’m making my grocery list right now since there’s little to nothing here.
It would look weird if we did our shopping separately, especially since we’re not sure how much surveillance we’ll be under or for how long.
Either you can come with me, or I’ll just get everything in one trip. ”
Of course he made grocery lists. He’s Colt. But to think of me, even for the sake of our cover, showed a thoughtfulness I hadn’t thought him capable of.
“Looking to replace your apple juice already?”
His eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t dumped half of it out.”
“I didn’t throw it out.”
I returned the towel to its place, barely hiding my shudder at the memory of chugging four glasses of apple juice back to back after he’d gone to sleep last night.
Zero out of ten, would not recommend. But, as much as he would have had it coming, I wasn’t about to waste any food by dumping it. I was raised better than that.
“You expect me to believe you drank it all? Highly unlikely.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t gotten rid of my coffeemaker.”
His lips twitched. “To use your own words, ‘I didn’t throw it out.’”
A list of potential hiding spots raced through my head. If the coffeemaker wasn’t permanently gone, then I’d find it. There wasn’t a stone in this house I’d leave unturned.
As if reading my mind, he chuckled. “I really am doing you a favor, you know.”
“What you’re doing is putting your life at risk.” There was no way I wouldn’t murder him if I had to go the entire assignment without coffee.
He graced me with an eye roll, which I would’ve been happier about if I’d had even a drop of caffeine all day. “Apple juice increases alertness just like coffee, but without any of the side effects.”
I narrowed my eyes, not entirely buying into his claim. For one, I hadn’t been bouncing off the walls all night after my juice binge, and for two, it seemed like the granola mom equivalent of Santa Claus: a lie you told your kids so they’d behave.
Before I could argue, he tapped his pen against his notebook. “So, any groceries you’d like me to get?”
“A new coffeemaker would be nice.”
His lips twitched more noticeably, coming dangerously close to an actual smile. “Nice try. Food items only.”
I harrumphed, finally breaking down and sitting across the table from him. “What if I’m on my period and I need more tampons?”
Granted, I’d brought more than plenty so we wouldn’t have to re-stock and risk drawing unwanted attention. But still.
Unlike any other man I’ve met, Colt didn’t so much as squirm at the mention of menstrual products. He simply arched a brow. “Then obviously I’d get those for you, too, but you’re not. Don’t pretend you didn’t come prepared.”
I gaped, unsure which part to address first: the fact that he’d voluntarily get me tampons, or that he knew I wasn’t on my period yet. Eventually, I settled on the former. “You would?”
He shrugged, adding another item to his list in his infuriatingly neat handwriting. “Any good husband would.”
Right. It was all for the cover. Anything remotely kind was, because Heaven knows he wouldn’t do it for me otherwise.
I hummed noncommittally, refusing to dwell on the way my chest ached all of a sudden. “In that case, you can add a couple frozen pizzas and stuff for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to the list.”
Defying all logic, his brow rose even higher. “Is that what you eat every day?”
“Not every day,” I mumbled, sitting back and hugging myself defensively.
Truthfully, I couldn’t cook anything but mashed potatoes without ruining it.
Even toast was pushing it for me, and the toaster had a timer that would supposedly help keep the bread from burning.
Supposedly . As I’d learned over the years, any appliance that claimed to make cooking easier just hadn’t met me yet.
I could prove that even the most fail-proof product wasn’t applicable for everyone .
What could I say? It was a gift, and a curse. But mostly a curse. Especially right now, with Colt and his judgy, “I have a meal plan and cook like a pro” self sitting across from me.
When I couldn’t handle his stare burning into me any longer, I finally met his eyes in defiance, my voice snapping a bit more than I’d intended. “What?”
The corner of his mouth inched upward as he leaned back in mock surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”
“That’s the thing, Colt. You don’t have to say anything. Your” —I gestured vaguely to encompass all of him— “ you-ness says it all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I ground my teeth, a million responses flying past my eyes.
Amidst the jabs—truthful as they were—something he’d said during the class broke through.
Easily the nicest thing you’ve said to me the entire time we’ve known each other —and it was a simple thank you.
That was it. He thought that was the nicest thing I’d ever said to him, which was obviously ludicrous.
And yet, it gave me pause. The doubt that came with it was enough to keep my retorts to myself for now.
I’d said please and thank you to him before, right? I wasn’t uncivilized and especially not in front of the other squad members. But maybe he was referring to the times it was just the two of us? Even then, he had to be exaggerating.
Right?
As much as my tongue itched to tell him how insufferable he was, how conceited, condescending, and superior he was, I held it back.
He’d saved me during the class, even if he’d sullied it minutes later.
The point remained, he still had. So, as much as it pained me, I wouldn’t let him have it. Not tonight.
And, no, the fact that he’d shared his real meals thus far had nothing to do with it.
Mostly.
I let out my breath in a resigned hiss. I may repay him with silence for now, but if I stuck around, Heaven knows my resolve would crumble the longer I was around him. “It means I’m going to bed.”
He frowned as I heaved myself out of my chair. “Lex?—”
“I’ll write down what I need and get it to you before you go.” I hesitated at the end of the hall, clenching and unclenching my fists as I practically had to force the next words out. “And… thank you.”
He pursed his lips, the muscle in his jaw flickering. It was his contemplative face. The one he got whenever he sifted through mountains of information looking for the tiny thread to connect it all. The same one he got when observing suspects in the interrogation room. Analyzing them.
And you could bet I wasn’t going to stick around for him to analyze me . This was a one-time favor he didn’t even realize he’d received, and I wasn’t going to wait for him to jump to all the wrong conclusions about it.
This war between us was far from over.