Page 69 of Code Name: Atticus

My eyes flared, and I chuckled. “I only make promises I know I can keep.”

“Great. Thanks.” She wiggled one foot. “That feels amazing, by the way.”

“I can think of a few things that might feel better.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Race you upstairs, and I’ll show you.”

“You’re on.”

Brenna was halfway up the stairs when my cell phone pinged with an urgent alert.

“Be right there,” I hollered up at her when I noticed hers hadn’t.

I swiped the screen and saw a text from Kodiak.

Name Redpoint mean anything to you?

Why?

Got some intel on ’em.

How urgent?

Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.

Talk then.

I glanced up to make sure Brenna had gone into the bedroom, then returned downstairs to make the rounds, turn offthe lights, and check all the doors were secure and the alarm was set. Really, though, I was biding my time.

Redpoint was the company Luke and Trevor owned, and as much as I wanted to know what intel Kodiak had received, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to keep it from Brenna.

BRENNA

Istood in front of the mirror, holding my third outfit option up while Atticus sat on the bed, his expression amused but distracted. The navy dress felt too formal. The jeans-and-blouse combo seemed too casual. Nothing felt right for meeting his parents as his girlfriend or whatever I was now.

“The green sweater,” he said without glancing up from his phone. “It’s my favorite.”

“You didn’t even look.”

His gaze lifted, and for a moment, that familiar heat flickered between us. Then his phone buzzed again, and his attention shifted back to the screen. A frown creased his forehead before he quickly smoothed it away. “Still my favorite.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, pulling the sweater over my head.

“Just Kodiak being Kodiak. Apparently, he’s already planned Emma’s entire day tomorrow, including three different coffee shops he ‘happens’ to know she’ll love.” He pocketed his phone, but not before I caught him typing something with more intensity than discussing coffee shops warranted.

“That man needs a hobby.”

“He has one. It’s called annoying Emma Sinclair.”

But as we headed downstairs, I noticed the tension in his shoulders and the way he kept checking his phone when he thought I wasn’t looking. In the five days since we’d become whatever we were—lovers, partners, complicated—I’d learned to read his moods.

But actually, that wasn’t true. I’d learned to read him years ago. Back when I first started hanging on his every word and studying his every expression. Right now, despite his jokes about Kodiak, Atticus was worried about something.

“We should stop for flowers,” I said as we got into the BMW. “I can’t show up empty-handed.”

“Not necessary, but if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”