Page 14
“Budget allotments.” He held his folder and laptop aloft. “Now I have a list and a spreadsheet.”
“Oh.” The gorgeous smile widened, a twinkle in her deep green eyes. “I know how you love a list and a spreadsheet, tesoro.”
“Smartass.” He lowered his voice, catching a glimpse of Everly coming off the elevator and heading to the maze of cubicles. “You don’t mind my lists or spreadsheets at tax time.”
“I never mind your lists.”
“Falconetti, that is a bald-faced lie.” Humor and affection sparked through him, lightening his chest.
She leaned her forearms on the desk, still rolling the pen through her fingers. The low light from her desk lamp glimmered on his rings on her hand. “What are your lunch plans?”
“An hour with my door shut.” He winced. So much for an open-door policy. Day one, and he was closing it. “Got to get my stuff unpacked and together.”
“Mmm. That’s a valid need.” Her gaze roved his face. “But do eat something."
“I will.”
“Something that is not white bread.”
“Can’t promise you that, precious.” He kept a loaf of Sunbeam and a pack of ham on hand for days like today.
Her eyes narrowed. “No soda.”
He made a noise in his throat. “Of course not.”
“You already had one.” Resignation colored her voice.
“And a BC powder.”
At that, her gaze sharpened on him. “I’ll make carbonara tonight.”
The idea made the fact his office was a shitshow better. With a slight grin, he rapped his fist against the door and prepared himself to go clean up that shitshow. “You’re the best, Falconetti.”
***
Three in the morning, and he was wide awake, watching the reflections from the pool lights dance over the ceiling. Jaw tight, he folded his hands behind his head. The house lay quiet, the HVAC a slight hum, even the slight rush of air from the vents audible.
This was nothing to worry about — just the normal stress of the first night after starting something that matters. He’d been like this after his first day at Quantico, and he’d finally evened out. Tonight, he’d been exhausted when he’d fallen into bed a little after eleven and he’d slept okay until he’d woken around two.
And spent the last hour staring at the ceiling.
Next to him, Caitlin slept on her side, facing away from him. Her shoulders moved in an easy rise and fall, and he released a long breath, frustration curling through him.
Too early to get up, but no point in lying here awake, either.
Folding back the covers, he eased from the bed. Caitlin slept on, and he strode to the closet, unlocking the gun safe to retrieve his service weapon. Gun in hand, he eased down the hall.
In the kitchen, the refrigerator hummed. Sprawled on the hallway floor between the girls’ rooms, Zeb clocked his footsteps and lifted his head, tail thumping on the floor before he hefted to his feet with a soft woof.
“Shh.” Tick scratched behind his ears. “I know, buddy.”
He glanced in Eleanor’s room first. She sprawled over her bed, like a starfish, and her soft snore hung in the air. With a smile tugging at his lips, he eased back to check on Eva. She curled up under her duvet, a hand under her cheek.
Zeb at his heels, he eased back down the hall and through the kitchen to the garage. Laying the gun aside, he unrolled his mat on the workbench and pulled down his cleaning kit.
Perched on the rolling stool, he released the magazine and laid it aside, then racked the slide back and locked it. Foot propped on the stool rung, he checked the chamber, then again. With a deep sigh, Zeb settled on the floor in a liver-colored blob.
Pointing away from the wall separating the garage from the bedrooms, he pressed the trigger. With the slide pulled back, he pulled down the takedown levers so the slide released.
