Page 58 of Code Name: Atticus

“Give us a few minutes, and I’ll reconvene,” said Atticus.

“Thanks, everyone,” I said before ending the feed, then turning to him. “What are you thinking?”

“Kodiak and I will head back to their hotel. You and Emma stay here.”

I nodded, understanding the unspoken reasoning. They needed to discuss surveillance equipment and backup protocols—things I couldn’t be part of if I wanted to maintain the integrity of the prosecution.

Atticus stood and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned abdomen that made my mouth go dry. When I looked up, he was watching me with a knowing smirk.

“See something you like, counselor?”

“Just making sure you’re fit for duty,” I muttered while Emma snorted with laughter.

“We’ll be back in two hours. Try not to burn the house down while we’re gone, ladies,” Kodiak said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“That’s sexist,” Emma said. “Women are statistically less likely to cause kitchen fires.”

“Tell that to the FBI field office in Baltimore,” he muttered.

“You set a kitchen on fire?” I asked.

“It was a microwave incident. Who knew aluminum foil could be so dramatic?”

“Everyone,” Kodiak said. “Literally everyone knows that.”

Atticus squeezed my shoulder as he passed. “Back soon,” he murmured, then followed Kodiak toward the door.

Emma waited until we were sure they were gone before turning to me with raised eyebrows. “So?”

“So?”

“You’re glowing.”

“I’m not glowing.”

“You’re absolutely glowing. And that man can’t keep his eyes off you for more than thirty seconds.” She settled onto the barstool beside me. “When did it happen?”

I felt heat creep up my neck. “When did what happen?”

“Brenna Austen, do not play coy with me. When did you two finally stop dancing around each other and own up to being crazy about each other?”

“Saturday night,” I admitted, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face. “Or Sunday morning, technically. Depending on how you count it.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Details! I’m living vicariously through you since my fake husband seems more interested in avoiding me than seducing me.”

I laughed. “Tell the truth, if he was trying to seduce you, you’d like that even less.”

“True statement.” She rolled her shoulders. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about how you’re literally radiating happiness despite the fact that we’re in the middle of investigating a massive espionage ring.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Love always is.”

The word hung between us, and I felt my chest tighten. “I didn’t say?—”