"Okay. It's a long flight. Talk, nap, or read?"
The flight attendant returned with a notepad and pen. "Miss...Lindy?"
"Yes?"
She smiled, dozens of gray strands shooting out like lightning bolts from her French braid. "Would you like the grilled chicken with sweet chili sauce or our grilled salmon with lemon caper butter?"
"Uh...the chicken, please."
"Mr. Maddox?"
"The chicken as well."
She scribbled on her notebook. "Everyone okay with beverages?"
We both looked at our nearly full glasses and nodded.
The attendant smiled. "Fantastic."
"Talk," Thomas said, leaning toward me.
"What?"
He stifled a laugh. "You asked, talk, nap, or read. I choose talk."
"Oh." I smiled.
"But I don't want to talk about Camille. I want to talk about you."
I wrinkled my nose. "Why? I'm boring."
"Have you ever broken a bone?" he asked.
"No."
"Ever cried over a guy?"
"Nope."
"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"
"You...were my first."
Thomas's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What? But you were engaged..."
I giggled. "I'm just kidding. I was twenty. College. Not anything or anyone to speak of."
"Illegal drugs?"
"No."
"Ever drank enough that you passed out?"
"No."
Thomas thought for approximately thirty seconds.
"I told you," I said, a tad embarrassed, "I'm boring."
Then, he asked his next question, "Have you ever slept with your boss?" He smirked.
I shrank into my seat. "Not on purpose."
He threw his head back and laughed.
"It's not funny. I was mortified."
"Me, too, but not for the reason you think."
"Because you were afraid of what Tarou or Benny would do to me if Grove found out why I was there?"
Thomas frowned. "Yes." He swallowed hard and then looked down at my lips. "That night with you...it changed everything. I was going to give it a few days, so I wouldn't look completely pathetic when I knocked on your door. I came to work that morning and immediately told Marks that he was coming with me to Cutter's. I was hoping to run into you again."
I smiled. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, looking away again. "I'm still concerned. I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you."
"Darn," I teased.
Thomas didn't seem happy about my response. "I'm not the one who keeps tabs on people, remember?"
"Sawyer?" I asked.
When Thomas affirmed my suspicion with a nod, I chuckled.
"It's not funny," he said, unamused.
"It's a little funny. No one will tell me why they dislike him, except to say he's a bastard or an asshole. Neither you nor Val will give me anything specific. He helped me unpack. He was at my condo all night and didn't try to sleep with me. He's got the sleazy barfly thing going on, but he's harmless."
"He's not harmless. He's married."
My mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"No, it sounded like you said Agent Sawyer is married."
"He is."
"What?"
Thomas was beyond annoyed, but I couldn't wrap my head around what he was telling me.
He leaned closer. "To Val."
"What?" My voice lowered an octave. Now, I knew he was messing with me.
"It's true. They were like Romeo and Juliet at first, and then it turned out that Sawyer has a small issue with commitment. Val has sent him divorce papers several times. He keeps dragging it out. They've been separated for almost two years."
My mouth was still hanging open. "But...they live in the same building."
"No," he said, chuckling. "They live in the same condo."
"Shut the front door!"
"Different bedrooms. They're roommates."
"Val makes me tell her everything. This is just...I feel betrayed. Is that rational? I do."
"Yeah," Thomas said, shifting in his seat. "She's definitely going to kill me."
I shook my head. "I did not see that coming."
"I'd ask you not to tell her that I told you, but when we get back, she'll take one look at you and know."
I turned to face him. "How does she do that?"
He shrugged. "She's always had a bullshit detector, and then the FBI helped her hone her skill. With pupil dilation, delay of response, looking up and to the left, and whatever inner radar she has that goes off, she can detect more than just lies now. She detects omission even if you've got news on your mind that you're keeping to yourself. Val knows all."
"It's unsettling."
"That's why you're her only friend."
My mouth pulled to one side, and I cocked my head to the other. "That's sad."
"Not many people can handle Val's gift or her brazen use of it. That's why Sawyer's such a dick."
"He cheated?"
"Yes."
"Knowing she would find out?"
"I believe so."
"So, why won't he divorce her?" I asked.
"Because he can't find anyone better."
"Oh, I hate him," I snarled.
Thomas pushed a button, and his seat began to recline. A satisfied smile stretched across his face.
"No wonder she's never let me come over," I mused.
His grin became wider, and he wedged the pillow under his head. "Have you ever--"
"No. No more questions about me."
"Why not?"
"There is literally nothing to speak of."
"Tell me about what happened with you and Jackson. Why didn't it work out?"
"Because our relationship was nothing to speak of," I said, forming my lips over the words like he had to read my lips to understand.
"Are you telling me your entire life was boring until you came to San Diego?" he asked, in disbelief.
I didn't answer.
"Well?" he said, shifting until he was comfortable.
"Well what?"
"Knowing you now, I'd almost believe you didn't have it in you to be so spontaneous. It makes sense. You left Cutter's with me that night to have something to talk about." Arrogance flickered in his eyes.
"Don't forget, Thomas. You don't know me that well."
"I know you bite your thumbnail when you're nervous. I know you twist your hair around your finger when you're in deep thought. You drink Manhattans. You like Fuzzy's Burgers. You hate milk. You're not particularly fussy about the cleanliness of your home. You can run farther than I can during our lunch hour, and you like weird Japanese art. You're patient, you give second chances, and you don't make hasty judgments about strangers. You're professional and highly intelligent, and you snore."
"I do not!" I sat straight up.
Thomas laughed. "Okay, it's not snoring. You just...breathe."
"Everyone breathes," I said, defensive.
"My apologies. I think it's cute."
I tried not to smile but failed. "I lived with Jackson for years, and he never said anything."
"It's the tiniest wheeze, barely noticeable," he said.
I shot him a dirty look.
"To be fair, Jackson was in love with you. He probably didn't tell you a lot of things."
"Good thing you're not, so I can hear all the humiliating things about myself."
"As far as everyone is concerned, I'm in love with you today and tomorrow."
His words made me pause. "Then, play the part and pretend that you think I'm perfect."
"I can't recall thinking otherwise." Thomas didn't crack a smile.
"Oh, please," I said, rolling my eyes. "Does my first FD-three-oh-two ring a bell?"
"You know why I did that."
"I'm not perfect," I grumbled, biting the corner of my thumbnail.
"I don't want you to be."
<
br /> He scanned over my face with such affection that I felt like the only other person in the fuselage. He leaned toward me, his eyes fixated on my lips. I had just begun to close the gap when the flight attendant approached.
"Would you open your tray table?" she asked.
Thomas and I both blinked and then fiddled with the mechanics of getting the trays out of the arm of the seat. His popped out first, and then he helped me with mine. The attendant gave us that what-a-cute-couple look and then spread napkins on both of our trays before setting our meals before us.
"More wine?" she asked.
I looked at my half-empty glass. I hadn't even realized I'd been drinking it. "Yes, please."
She filled my glass and then returned to the other passengers.
Thomas and I ate our meals in silence, but it was clear what we thought of our microwaved grilled chicken with a teaspoon of sweet chili sauce and limp mixed vegetables. The pretzel roll was the best part of the meal.
The man sitting in the aisle seat in front of us kept his feet propped on the wall in front of him and talked to his neighbor about his burgeoning evangelical career. The silver-haired man behind us talked to the woman next to him about his first novel, and after asking some basic questions, she revealed that she was thinking of writing one, too.
Before I was finished with my warm chocolate chip cookie, the pilot came over the PA system to announce that he would begin the descent soon, and our flight would land in Chicago ten minutes earlier than expected. Once he finished his announcement, a symphony of seat belts unclicking and bodies shifting could be heard, and the pilgrimages to the restrooms began.
Thomas closed his eyes again. I tried not to stare. Since we'd met, I had done nothing but deny my feelings for him while I fought ferociously for my independence. But I was free only when he touched me. Outside of our intimate moments, I would be held captive by thoughts of his hands.
Even if it was just for appearances, I hoped that pretending would satisfy my curiosity. If Thomas seeing Camille changed anything, at least remembering the best memories of the weekend would be a better alternative to mourning our fake relationship when we got home.
"Liis," Thomas said, his eyes still shut.
"Yes?"
"The moment we land, we're undercover." He looked at me. "It's important that any connections with Mick or Benny have no clue that we're federal agents."
"I understand."
"You're free to talk about anything from your life, except for your time at the Bureau. That will be interchanged by your undercover career as a replacement professor in cultural studies at the University of California, San Diego. We have all the records in place there."
"I've packed my university credentials."
"Good." He closed his eyes again, settling into his seat. "You've researched the school, I assume?"
"Yes, and your family and a few others who you might have mentioned if we were in an actual relationship--Shepley, America, Camille, the twins; your dad, Jim; his brother, Jack; Jack's wife, Deana; and your mom."
His lips curved up. "Diane. You can say her name."
"Yes, sir."
It was a natural thing to say, practically ingrained, and I didn't mean anything by it, but Thomas's eyes popped open, and his disappointment was hard to miss.
"It's Thomas. Just Thomas." He turned his shoulders to face me head-on. "I have to admit, I thought this would be easier for you. I know it will be distracting to be in Chicago again, but are you sure you can do this? It's important."
I bit my lip. For the first time, I truly worried that I would slip and not only put the whole operation at risk, but also put Thomas in danger of being at odds with his family for lying. But if I voiced my concerns, the Bureau would send another female agent to play the part, likely one out of the Chicago office.
I took his hand in mine, tenderly rubbing my thumb against his skin. He looked down at our hands and then back at me.
"Do you trust me?" I asked.
Thomas nodded, but I could tell he was uncertain.
"When we set down, not even you will be able to tell the difference."
"HEY, DICKHEAD!" ONE OF THE TWINS SAID, walking across baggage claim toward Thomas with open arms. He had just a dusting of hair on his head, and the skin around his honey-brown eyes wrinkled when he smiled.
"Taylor!" Thomas set down our luggage and tightly wrapped his arms around his brother.
They were the same height, and both towered over me.
At first glance, a passerby might mistake them for friends, but even under his peacoat, Taylor was just as ripped. The only difference was that Thomas had thicker muscles, making it obvious that he was the older brother. Other things tipped off that they were related. Taylor's skin tone was just a shade lighter, geography being the likely culprit.
When Taylor hugged Thomas, I noticed that they also had identical strong large hands. Being around all five of them at the same time would be incredibly daunting.
Thomas patted his brother's back, almost too hard. I was glad he didn't greet me that way, but his brother wasn't fazed. They let go, and Taylor hit Thomas's arm, again hard enough that it was audible.
"Damn, Tommy! You're a fuckin' diesel!" Taylor made a show of squeezing Thomas's bicep.
Thomas shook his head, and then they both turned to stare at me with matching grins.
"This," Thomas said, beaming, "is Liis Lindy."
There was a reverence in his voice when he spoke, and he regarded me in the same way he'd held Camille on the pier in the picture. I felt precious to him, and I had to push on my toes to keep from leaning forward.
Just a few weeks before, Thomas had said my name as if it were a swear word. Now, when he formed his mouth around it, I melted.
Taylor gave me a bear hug, lifting me off the ground. When he set me down, he smirked. "Sorry about keeping you up the other night. I had a rough week."
"At work?" I asked.
His face turned red, and I inwardly celebrated at being able to make a Maddox brother blush.
Thomas smirked. "He got dumped."
The feeling of victory vanished, and guilt jarred me into silence. That didn't last long when I remembered the yelping and wall-banging. "So, you slept with--" I almost slipped and said Agent Davies. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business."
Thomas couldn't hide his relief.
Taylor took a long deep breath and blew it out. "I wasn't going to bring this up until later, but I was really messed up over it and really drunk. Falyn and I worked it out, and she'll be in St. Thomas, so I'd appreciate it if...you know..."
"Falyn is your girlfriend?" I asked.
Taylor looked so deeply ashamed. It was hard to judge him.
I shrugged. "I never saw you. Anything I reported would be speculation anyway." Damn it, Liis. Stop sounding like an agent.
Taylor lifted my tote and slipped it over his shoulder. "Thanks."
"Could I just..." I reached for the tote.
Taylor leaned down to give me better access. I pulled out my sweater, and Thomas helped me slip it on.
Taylor began walking, and Thomas reached back for my hand. I took his hand, and we followed his brother to the exit.
"I drove around for half an hour before I found a parking spot in the main lot," Taylor said. "It's spring break, so everyone is traveling, I guess."
"When did you get into town? What are you driving?" Thomas asked.
Suddenly, I didn't feel so bad. Thomas sounded more like FBI than I did.
"I've been here since yesterday."
The moment Taylor stepped foot in the street, he pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket and flipped one in his mouth. He dug into the pack again and pulled out a lighter. He lit the end and puffed until the paper and tobacco glowed orange.
He blew out a puff of smoke. "Have you been to Chicago before, Liis?"
"I'm from here actually."
Taylor stopped abruptly. "Really?"
"Yes," I said, my voice ris
ing an octave as if it were a question.
"Huh. Millions of people in San Diego, and Thomas bags a girl from Illinois."
"Taylor, Jesus," Thomas scolded.
"Sorry," Taylor said, turning to look at me.
He had Thomas's same charming expression, one that would make the average girl swoon, and I was beginning to realize it was just a Maddox trait.
"Is Falyn at Dad's?" Thomas asked.
Taylor shook his head. "She had to work. She's meeting me in St. Thomas, and then we'll fly back together."
"Did Trav pick you up from the airport? Or did Trent?" Thomas asked.
"Honey," I said, squeezing Thomas's hand.
Taylor laughed. "I'm used to it. He's always been like this."
He walked ahead, but Thomas's eyes softened, and he brought my hand up to his mouth for a tender tiny kiss.
Taylor nodded. "Shepley did. Travis is with Shepley all day, so I drove Trav's car to come get you. He doesn't know we're in town. He thinks he'll see us all in St. Thomas tomorrow, like the girls."
"Are all the girls in St. Thomas?" I asked.
Thomas gave me a look. He knew exactly what I was asking.
"Not all the girls. Just Abby and her bridesmaids." We walked into the main lot, and Taylor pointed straight ahead. "I'm all the way down by the fence."
After hiking a hundred yards or so in the cold wind, Taylor pulled a set of keys from his pocket and pressed a button. A silver Toyota Camry chirped a few cars ahead.
"Am I the only one who thinks it's strange that Travis has a car now?" Thomas said, staring at the vehicle.
A gold chain was looped around the rearview mirror and then separated into several strands. The ends were looped through small holes in white poker chips. They looked personalized with black-and-white striped borders and red writing in the middle.
Taylor shook his head, pushing another button to open the trunk. "You should see him driving it. He looks like a pussy."
"Glad I'm selling mine then," I said.
Thomas laughed and then helped Taylor load our luggage. Thomas came around and opened the passenger door for me, but I shook my head.
"It's okay. Sit in the front with your brother." I opened the back door. "I'll sit back here."
Thomas leaned down to kiss my cheek, but then he noticed I was gawking into the backseat. He stared as well.
"What the fuck is that?" Thomas asked.
"Oh! It's Toto! I'm babysittin'," he said with a proud smile that showed off a deep dimple in one cheek. "Abby would probably kill me if she knew I left him in the car alone, but I was only gone for ten minutes. It's still warm in the car."
The dog wiggled its entire back end, wearing a navy-and-gold striped sweater and standing on a plush wool pet bed.
"I..." I began, looking to Thomas. "I've never had a dog."
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