I mimic her relaxed pose—or try to, at least. My knee bumps the table, making it hit the wall to my right. Addison frowns, looking under the table before her delicate hand touches my thigh, and I have to close my eyes at the contact.
“Extend your legs out,” she commands gently. “I’m okay.”
Fuck me.
I do as she says, straightening my limbs so they rest on either side of hers. She smiles brightly, her eyes lighting up in a way that makes my chest pang. “Better?”
Worse.
So much worse.
“Yes,” I manage, my voice straining.
“Alright, what do you do for work?” She asks again.
“Freelance.”
Her brow inches up. “There are millions of types of freelance work. Give me details.”
“Construction,” I lie.
Her look turns contemplative. “Hmm, that explains the massive truck and the…” Her eyes move over my arms before she tilts her head. “Yeah.”
“What do you plan to do when you move to Columbus?” I ask, enjoying our small talk and the way her eyes are on me.
She rests her chin in her hand, humming. “I haven'tdecided yet. Loxley said I can work at the bakery, and I'm thankful for her offer, but I need numbers. I could always handle the expenses, but Jannette seems comfortable in her position. I don't want to impose. I may go back into finances. Get a cushy office job with two vacation weeks a year. Who knows?”
“Sounds miserable,” I comment.
She shrugs. “Any job with numbers usually is. It’s the only way I can stay close to what I love.”
No, it isn't. For a brief moment, I imagine Addison behind my desk, shuffling through expenses with a smile. She would be a fucking natural.
But for that, she would have to know what I do for work. Loxley, Atlas, and I agreed it would be best for Addison to hear it from a friend. Learning about a whole organization of assassins is a shock factor that takes time to get used to. After this trip, there’s a possibility Addison will never want to speak to me again.
“Your coffee,” our server sets two mugs down in front of us, along with creamer and sugar. “What can I get you to eat?”
“I’m fine.” Addison smiles up at her.
“We’ll both take an omelet. Extra cheese and hot sauce on hers.” I hand our menus back before our waitress nods and dips behind the counter.
When I look up, Addison is scowling at me. “How do you know what I like on my omelets?”
The suspicion in her voice doesn't go unnoticed. She’s smart. She’s been onto me from the very beginning. “The last time I saw you, you were seated at a diner’s bar top eating an omelet smothered in cheese and hot sauce, Addison. I used basic comprehension skills.”
She huffs, sitting back in her seat as she grabs some sugar and creamer to pour into her coffee. “I used basic comprehension skills.” She mocks quietly as she stirs her coffee.
My jaw ticks. “You’re such a fucking brat.”
Her eyes shift to me before she gives me a faux pout. “Oh,yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”
My fist tightens on my thigh. There’s plenty Iwantto do, but shouldn't. “Nothing.”
She huffs a low chuckle. “Pussy.”
Before I can stop myself, my hand shoots across the table. I collar her throat. Tight enough to get my point across, but not enough to inflict pain.Not yet.
She tenses beneath my palm, her eyes flying open as my thumb digs into her artery. Her lips part, and I see the fight leech from her in an instant.
