Page 31 of Code Name: Atticus

The bacon was sizzling, and I was whisking eggs when I heard the front door open, followed by quiet footsteps.

“Smells amazing in here,” Atticus said from the doorway.

“I owe you breakfast.” I kept my focus on the stove, afraid to meet his eyes. “After making you sleep on the floor.”

He approached, and I felt his warmth behind me. Not close enough to touch, but near enough that his presence made my skin hum with awareness.

“You didn’t make me do anything. I chose to sleep there.”

I glanced over my shoulder, struck by the gentleness in his voice. “I still feel bad.” I flipped the French toast, avoiding his eyes. “Luke called.”

“Yeah?” His tone was casual, but I heard the underlying interest.

“He mentioned running into you. Twice.”

He moved to lean against the counter where he could see my face. “What else did he say?”

“I fudged the truth and told him I was going to be in town for a DOJ thing, which isn’ttechnicallya lie. He wants the three of us to have dinner.”

Atticus’ eyes flared. “That’s…”

“A disaster waiting to happen?”

“I was going to say ‘awkward,’ but disaster works too.” He studied me. “What did you tell him?”

“I said it sounded good and left it at that.” I plated the French toast, and our fingers brushed when I handed it to him. “As I’m sure you know, he’s here for the AI Summit. Which throws a major wrench into our plans.”

“I’ll say. The universe has a twisted sense of humor.” He dug into the food. “Your brother’s timing has always been impeccable. Remember when—” He stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Ancient history.” He took a bite and made an appreciative sound. “This is really good.”

“It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“I’ve had your mom’s. This is better.” There was a glint in his eyes when he looked up at me. When it quickly turned to heat, my face flushed.

“I doubt that, but thanks.”

He grew more serious. “We need to recalibrate the whole approach with the team. If Luke’s at the summit?—”

“Agreed. I’ll schedule a briefing.”

He leaned against his chair. “Before you do, we should talk about last night.”

I’d taken a seat at the bar and was about to take a bite of my breakfast, but pushed my plate away and stood. “Why?”

“Because I hurt you, and it wasn’t my intention.”

“I know that, but…”

“Go on.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I’ve spent ten years convincing myself that wanting you was just some teenage fantasy. Last night proved it wasn’t.”

He stood, turned me in his arms, and searched my face. I saw heat flare in his eyes again. “And that scares you.”

“Terrifies me.”