With a mouth full of citrus, he had to sort out the best way to answer her question.
Would he leave?
Swallowing, he picked up a fork.“I don’t have a clue.”
A squeal of glee escaped her.She bopped in her chair as though doing a little dance.Her excitement was infectious.
He chuckled despite himself.It’d been a long time since someone had enjoyed his company.It was nice.
“Does the makeup come off, or is it a tattoo?”she asked before shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth.
Before he could answer, she groaned like she had when he’d fucked her on Grant’s office couch.His dick twitched immediately.
Lolling her head a bit, she rolled her eyes back into their sockets.
He could’ve sworn he’d seen that look too.
Pride filled his chest.
Lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she chewed, she focused on him.“This is amazing.How did you… Where did you…?I don’t even understand how you made eggs taste like this.”
Stabbing at his plate, he beamed.“You have quite the spice cabinet.It was pretty easy.”
“I bought a spice rack when I moved in,” she said.“I don’t think I’ve touched anything other than salt and pepper.”
“You don’t cook?”
She shook her head.“Not much.Simple stuff.It’s just me.I don’t see the sense in preparing super fancy meals for myself.I eat whatever is quickest.”
He nodded.Together, they ate breakfast like any other couple would on a lazy Saturday morning.Fink shouldn’t be this comfortable in her space—with her.She was a liability.He wasn’t supposed to have those, but he couldn’t help feeling like he belonged there—with her.
Barely twelve hours had passed.He was out of his damn mind.If he got too cozy there, he might not want to leave.That wasn’t an option.He wasn’t the type of guy who could settle down.
Moving around kept him safe.He was supposed to be a ghost.
What did he think would happen?They would get a house with a white picket fence?She’d have two point four kids?They’d get a dog?This wasn’t the 1950s.He wasn’t someone who worked at the office.There would be no gold watch or pension when he retired.
That wasn’t the life Fink made for himself.He had forged a completely different path.When, and if, he ever retired, he wouldn’t be getting a place in the suburbs.Not that he knew what he’d do.He’d never thought of it before.Why was it on his mind now?
Conversation with Sydney came easily.She was bubbly and fun.He wanted to talk to her, share things with her, but not too much.Like his legal name.That could get him into trouble.She couldn’t know intimate details about him, but yeah, he could tell her about how he learned to cook while his mom was slumped over, strung out on whatever.
Okay, maybe some details were best left unsaid.
After they’d finished, Sydney hopped to her feet and took the plates.“You cooked.The least I can do is clean.”
He chuckled and finished his glass of juice.
“In the meantime,” she said as she carried the dishes to the sink.“You can shower if you like.I don’t think I have anything that will fit you, but you can at least get the blood and guts off you.”She scrunched her nose.“Don’t be alarmed, but there’s some brain in your hair.”She pointed toward his head.“Maybe throw your clothes in the washer too.”
Glancing down, Fink noted that his attire was stained with dried blood.How had he forgotten?Evidence was everywhere.
“I usually burn them,” he admitted, but she had a point.He had nothing to wear.
“Interesting,” she said from the kitchen and turned on the water.“I don’t have a fireplace.”
He was well aware.It was a requirement wherever he went after he completed a contract.In this instance, he intended to put distance between him and this place and stop at a ski lodge with quite the hearth.Unfortunately, things took a turn last night.He needed a new plan.
While Sydney wasn’t the skinniest woman in the world, her shoulders weren’t nearly as broad as his own.She had a flare to her hips, so maybe he could put on some of those flannel pajama pants, but he wasn’t sure they’d be the correct length.He had a few inches on her.
