“Good.” I stretch out my arm so he can latch the bracelet onto my wrist, then flag a waitress for the check and pull out my wallet. Sawyer frowns as if I had just done the most offensive thing in history. “Fifty-fifty, Huckleberry, that’s how friends do it.”
“Right.” He shakes it off, pulling out his own wallet. “Come on, Maddie, let’s pay, and I’ll get you home.”
* * *
Sawyer
“Good morning,” I greet Maddie when she answers my knock.
“How did you get up here?” She frowns, though she still takes the coffee I offer her. “This is a private floor. Even if you got past the guard downstairs, you don’t know the code to the elevator or the stairway door.”
“I climbed up the side of the building and through the window.” I shrug off my coat and hang it on one of the hooks by the door, then turn to look at Maddie. She seems to be trying to figure out if I’m serious or not, then just rolls her eyes and sips on her coffee.
“There are bars,” she says in a dry tone, shaking her head with a resigned sigh. “What are you doing here at 8 AM?”
“Well, again, since I don’t have to woo you into a friendship that will gain me access to your place, I figured the sooner I conduct a risk assessment and draw up an escape plan, the better,” I explain, and Maddie nods, fingers twisting her tracking bracelet.
I’m glad to see she still has it on. Part of me was worried she’d remove it in places she perceives as safe. Also, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m happy to see it on her for reasons other than worry for her safety. In a small and silly way, Maddie not taking off the bracelet feels as if she’s accepting my role in her life, even if only for a short, predetermined amount of time.
It doesn’t mean I like this arrangement any more than I did a couple of days ago, just that it’ll make things easier going forward if Maddie isn’t pushing back at me all the time.
“I’d appreciate you telling me next time, okay?” She signals me to follow her to the kitchen, shooting me a devious grin over her shoulder. “I could have been naked in here.”
“Maybe I was hoping you would be,” I retort, because I can’t shut my stupid mouth when she starts with her smart one.
I had mentally prepared myself to be in her personal space, fully instating my blank face before leaving my sublet apartment. My ability to maintain the act, though, seems to be a different question entirely.
I’m supposed to be doing a security sweep and assessing all the escape routes and weak points in her place. This is a crucial part of keeping her safe—making sure she knows what to do in every situation, where to run, where to hide. Not engage in flirty banter with my asset.
“Sucks for you, Huckleberry, because I’m fully dressed and making pancakes.”
“I don’t see how that sucks for me.” I follow her into the kitchen. “Unless you’re not a sharer, in which case I’m taking my coffee back.”
“Don’t worry, you’re invited to eat.” Maddie pulls out another plate and cutlery, then waves her hand at a stack of buttery pancakes that I’m not sure how she was going to conquer alone, signaling for me to take them to the small dining table tucked away at the edge of the kitchen.
“So, why Chicago?” I ask once we’re seated.
Maddie chews slowly, almost as if she has to think through what should have been an easy answer.
“I was offered a small municipal project, nothing fancy, just a bit of software fortifying work.” She lifts her glass of orange juice and takes a sip, licking the droplet that spilled off the rim before it manages to roll down the glass. The tip of her tongue darting out, lightly smoothing over the glass, is doing all sorts of things to my body heat.
“Anyway, I figured it was good for me to look like I’m business as usual, and this is a breeze of a project, so I can keep working on Harlow’s case at the same time.”
“That’s a solid strategy.” I take a sip from my own glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, hoping the chilly acidic liquid will cool me down a bit. “Damn, I may even be impressed.”
“Aww.” She leans back with a broad smile. “The pampered princess in me feels accomplished.”
“And the rest of you?”
“The rest of me is a thirty-three-year-old professional.” Her smile turns sly as she carves out another bite of pancakes. “Andthatpart of me is still wondering if you’re trying to get into my pants.”
“Notthosepants.” I point my loaded fork at her yoga pants. “Those are dreadful to take off a woman. It’s like wrestling an alligator.”
Crude. I internally wince. But considering how off-balance Maddie seems to be throwing me, it’s best if she perceives me as a total douchebag and keeps the distance for both of us.
“Which you’ve done?” She tilts her head to the right with a bemused smile and reaches out to grab the small pitcher of maple syrup. The wide hem of her loose-fitting gray top falls from her left shoulder—now that I can work with—as she pours the sticky liquid over her pancakes.
I finish swallowing my bite and clear my throat, taking another sip of juice.