Chapter 20
Chapter 20
“ W e need to begin at the beginning, I think,” Esther said. She sat at the scarred wooden table, the piece of paper and pen in front of her now absorbing her total focus. It was her work pose. Her brain had already started clicking through its mental files, arranging them, Leo knew, back to the beginning, their first day of work. In a moment, she would pick up the pen and start to write, likely not stopping until he plucked the pen from her grasp and made her.
Likewise in work mode, Leo was absorbed by watching her. And as usual she had no idea. He stared at her all day every day, wondering what went on in her brain, what made her tick, where she came from, what she did in her off hours. Now he’d filled in some of those gaps. Esther was Amish, she came from an even more conservative, sheltered background than he’d imagined. In her off hours, she was alone. Unlike him, she likely didn’t want to be. He had taken what was essentially a fledgling and left her to fend for herself because he didn’t want the messiness of being emotionally involved. Too late now, he was up to his eyeballs in emotion, had slept with her in his grasp two straight nights, had cried and been soothed by her. How did he get here?
The one glaring difference from their job, besides the fact that they were in a small house with no electricity, lit only by the sunshine streaming through the windows, was Esther’s appearance. Leo was used to the braid and gawky jumpers. Today she’d attempted the messy bun, with very limited success. A large wisp of hair had escaped to torment her, tickling her cheek. It was the sort of touch that drove her crazy, and likely the source of her repeated frowning as she brushed it away and rubbed her cheek. Unbidden, Leo gathered her mass of hair and attempted to rearrange it so it didn’t bother her. So complete was her focus, she didn’t notice.
Feeling rotten and restless, Leo suddenly wondered how much it would take to break her focus. What would he have to do to get her attention?
He reached for her hand, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. Esther’s gaze remained fastidiously on the paper.
He opened her hand and kissed her palm.
Nothing.
He kissed the tip of each finger.
A fleeting glance from the paper to his face and back again. Hmm. She wore one of the new sweaters from the thrift store today. This one had a wide neck that kept sliding off her shoulder. It was likely the most skin she’d ever shown. Leo stared at her shoulder contemplating that fact. The last date he had wore a dress so skimpy it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Why was the sight of three inches of Esther’s shoulder so much more intriguing? Six months ago Leo would have said he didn’t do complex. He liked everything simple, straightforward, easy. He was a spy, the end. He liked cheap drinks and even cheaper women, forever and ever, amen. And now he sat in a lightless cabin in the middle of Amish country considering a voluntary end to his career, staring at a woman who thought kissing was a tool of the devil.
He swiped a weary hand over his face, repressed a chuckle, then reached out to tug Esther’s sweater back over her shoulder. Like her hair, the sliding sensation was driving her crazy but she was too focused to do anything about it. He meant to tug the sleeve back into place and move away. Instead he slid his hand onto her neck and used it as an anchor, pulling himself closer until his lips were pressed to her throat.
“Leo.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled before letting her go and moving away. “What?”
She regarded him with her computer eyes, full of curiosity and confusion, trying to assign a name, category, and meaning to his odd behavior. “What are you doing?”
“Sniffing you.”
“Why?”
“Because the smell of you drives me insane with wanting.”
“Hmm.” She stood, bypassed him, and returned a minute later with something in hand. She set a small glass bottle of Haitian vanilla in front of him and picked up her pen. Leo opened the bottle and sniffed it. It smelled good, but not as good as it smelled on Esther. Somehow the combination of vanilla and Esther’s natural essence was more potent than anything he’d ever encountered. Their working days together in the tiny cubicle had become a paroxysm of torture because Leo wasn’t joking; the smell made him crazy. He tipped a drop of vanilla on his finger, rubbed it on his own skin and sniffed, grimacing. Not the same, not the same at all. He smelled like burnt cookies. Esther smelled like…well, she smelled like home. He set the bottle away with a sigh, his glance falling on Esther again. She was writing now, meaning she was lost to him until she either finished or he forced her to be done.
“Switch sides with me,” she said, startling him. She almost never spoke while she worked.
“Why?”
“You’re on the wrong side.”
At work she was on his left side, today she was on his right. It wasn’t the sort of thing Leo noticed, but of course Esther did; she noticed everything.
“Am I breaking your concentration?” he asked hopefully.
“I need everything to be the same, or a close approximation,” she said. She stood, hovering over her chair, waiting for Leo to rise so they could trade places. He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“How about this?”
“This is not the same,” she said, perplexed.
“Maybe it’s better,” he suggested, giving her a squeeze with his good arm.
She shook her head. With a sigh, he slid into her chair and set her onto his. She picked up her pen, held it aloft, and set it down again. Then she slid into his lap and hugged his neck, being careful to avoid his injury.
“It is better, but not for work. I like touching you, Leo. Only you, because you’re special to me. You’re my favorite.” She pressed her palms to his cheeks and smiled.
She was so sweet, so pure. Leo felt the familiar sense of panic and appreciation that he was now her person, but something new was mixed in, something he wasn’t yet ready to examine or name. Esther rested her head on his shoulder. His hand smoothed up and down her spine, and he kissed the top of her head. A deep peace washed over him, like someone upended a bottle of peace oil and poured it over his head, anointing him with it. This was what he had needed for years, a chance to get away from it all, to think, to address all the issues he hadn’t wanted to. He was going to have to find a way to revisit this feeling later, after everything was over. His mind envisioned the little cabin, the dream one he’d been building in his head. It began to feel tangible, as if he might actually be able to go there. Maybe he could hire Esther’s uncle to build it for him. He had certainly done a spectacular job with his own house and the Dawdy haus they currently inhabited.
Esther was calm and quiet, her hand pressed to his chest, but he wasn’t fooled by her silence.
“You’re thinking about work, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. It would never occur to her to lie to him. Her frankness was both a blessing and a curse. If he screwed up, she would be the first to let him know, in no uncertain terms. On the other hand, Leo had spent so much of his life lying, running, hiding, playing games, it was a wonderful anomaly to be with someone who did none of those things.
“Okay, back to it,” he said, sliding her off his lap once again and depositing her in the chair.
She picked up the pen but didn’t yet put it to paper. Instead she faced him. “I’m sorry. It’s how my brain works.”
“Don’t be sorry. I love how your brain works.” It was true, he did. However much Esther might view it as a curse that she was atypical, Leo saw it as a gift. No one could do what she did. Lucky him she was his…work assignment. What had initially seemed like a loser job, protecting someone no one wanted, had turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. And how ironic that he’d not only been shot protecting her, but she was now so valuable she was wanted by someone powerful and dangerous enough to hire a mercenary to take her out.
Remembering anew how much danger she was in also turned his focus back to work. He tapped the paper in front of her. “Get started. The answer is in your mind somewhere. Let’s find it.”
With a slight nod of agreement, Esther faced forward and started to write.