Me: What are you doing?
I stare at the text for a few minutes, but he's not responding. He's probably asleep—or getting naked with that girl. I make disgusted noise and drop the phone, stalking into the kitchen.
I've just grabbed a package of Tollhouse cookies and turned the oven on when the phone rings.
“Hey.” His voice is soft, a little distracted, but relieved. “What’s up?”
“Just got home and I’m bored,” I answer, cutting the little pre-made squares.
His laugh trickles over the line. “I’m your go-to when you’re bored?”
“Would you rather it be someone else?” I ask, and he goes silent, the kind of charged silence that makes me nervous. “What about you? What are you doing?”
“Reading some reports from Monsieur Leguaed. It’s a pretty lame way to spend a Friday night.”
“You sound tired.”
“It’s been a long day,” he answers. I let the oven close with a bang and wince. “What was that?” he asks.
“Oven. I’m making cookies.”
“What kind?”
“Peanut butter chocolate chip. Comfort food and a movie seem to be in order.” I hesitate, and then, “You can come over, if you want.”
He sighs, a quiet noise that makes my heart take a nose dive. “Avery, you and I are so many kinds of fucked up.”
“That didn’t matter yesterday.”
“Sweetheart, it matters a little less every day.”
I want to dance around the kitchen when he calls me sweetheart. It’s a stupid thing to be happy about, especially since I know damn well he calls women sweetheart all the time.
“Nothing happens if I come over—we watch a movie, eat a cookie, you go to bed alone, and I come home alone.”
I don’t understand his sudden change of heart—his words last night, a threat as much as a promise, echoes in my head and heats my blood.
“We need to think about this, about what it means for both of us, if we go any further. So we won’t tonight. Deal?”
I nod, and remember he can’t see me. “Deal.”
Atticus
I stare at the phone and shake my head. Like putting limits up was gonna keep me away from her. I could hear the rejection in her hesitation, and it tears at me. I know how messy this can become, but the irrational side of me shoves all of it aside and grabs my keys.
I stop at the all-night convenience store and grab a half gallon of milk. There are a few drunks staring at the condom display, and for a heartbeat, I consider picking some up.
Then I decide it’s best to go without—less temptation.
When I pull up to her apartment, I almost back out. But I know she heard me—I see the blinds on her window shift a little. I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am, and how to get us back to the easy camaraderie we’ve had for the past month.
Avery’s wearing a pair of fuzzy shorts with monkeys on them and a loose t-shirt that reads “I <3 Nerds”. It’s thin enough that I can see the cami under it. Her long hair is piled in a messy knot that seems to defy gravity.
She looks so damn gorgeous, for a heartbeat I can’t speak. Then she grins and motions me in. “Glad you got milk. I almost called—mine went bad.”
I smirk and hand her the plastic carton.
“So—we’ve got Hangover, Jurassic Park, or Bladerunner,” she says as she pours two glasses of milk. I love watching Avery in the kitchen—her domestic side is subtle, but undeniably sexy.
“I thought you said funny,” I say, leaning against the bar.
“That’d be Hangover. Sorry, Kelly took most of our collection home with her.”
“Dinosaurs sound fun.”
She grins, and I know I made the right choice. She grabs the plate of cookies and a tub of Cool Whip. “Bring the milk.”
We settle on the couch, her leaning against the arm rest with her feet on the couch and the plate balanced on her knees. I sink down near her, but not quite touching. As the credits begin, I grab a cookie and bite into it. “How did dress shopping go?”
She frowns and swirls a piece of cookie through the whip cream. “I think the best part is that it’s over. I’m not so crazy about bridal shops that I actually enjoyed it.”
“Why do it?”
“Because Amelia asked,” she says simply, shrugging a shoulder. “She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s my sister. And it’s not like she’s insisting I come home like Daddy is.”
My gaze darts to her, and she flushes, looking away. “Anyway it was nice to see the baby and Jason.”
What? “I thought you went out with Jeffery?”
She nods, only half paying attention as the movie starts. “He got a ride with me, and then we met Jason and the baby for dinner.”
“Who are they?” I ask, my voice shaking a little.
It’s enough to get her attention. “Jeff’s husband and daughter?”
“He’s gay?”
Avery rolls her eyes. “Yes. And happily married. Why are you so surprised?” Her eyes widen, and she shifts, sitting up. Her face is now dangerously close to mine, amused and concerned. “Atticus, you didn’t really think I’d go out with another man after the Black Hole.”
“It’s not my business,” I force myself to say.
Her lips twist, a sarcastic smile. “Do you want it to be?”
On screen a man is screaming as a raptor eviscerates him, but all I’m seeing is her, her question ringing in my ears. “What do you want, Atticus?” she murmurs.
“To watch this movie and eat cookies. For now, that’s all I want.”
Avery smiles and nods, leaning back against the couch.
Avery
Somehow, we end up cuddling. My legs are draped over his lap, his fingers tracing little patterns on the arch of my foot, over my tattooed skin. It’s making it really hard to concentrate on who is getting eaten on the TV—although I’ve seen Jurassic Park often enough that I could probably quote it under any other circumstance. He seems unaware of what he’s doing to me.
Doubtful, but he’s doing a damn fine impression.
Halfway through the movie, I finally quit arguing with myself and say fuck it. I catch his arm where it’s resting casually on my thigh and pull. He stares at me, assessing me, and I flash him the brightest smile I can muster. “I promise to be good.”
He rolls his eyes, but stretches out behind me on the couch, my head pillowed on one of his arms, the other wrapped around my waist to hold me against him. His breath sifts through my hair, and I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding. His grip on me tightens a little.
The anxious feeling that’s been chasing me through the whole night vanishes as I settle in his embrace. The last thing I see is a little girl screaming as a T-Rex attacks her car.
I feel the couch shift and shiver in the sudden absence of his grip. I look blearily at the clock, stunned to realize it’s almost three. I look at Atticus, who shrugs before scooping me off the couch. “I watched the commentaries.”
Who watches commentaries? Either he’s the biggest geek in the world or he’s pretty happy spending time with me.
Both make me irrationally happy.
He lays me down on my bed and tugs my blanket up over my feet. “Thanks for the cookies, Avery.” He leans down to kiss my forehead, and the warm feeling that’s been covering me for the past several hours begins to dissipate.
“Don’t go.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I see his eyes widen, see the hesitation.
“I told you it wasn’t going any further tonight, Avery,” he murmurs.
Sleep is tugging at me, and I snuggle into my pillow. “Just to hold me. I don’t want anything else.”
He hesitates, then heaves a sigh. “Damn it,” he mutters. I half watch as he toes out of his shoes, pulls his shirt over his head, and climbs into my bed.
I fall asleep smiling.
Chapter 13
Atticus
She’s half sprawled across me, on
e leg twisted with mine, her hair in my face, when I wake up. The sunlight hits me in the wrong way, waking me too early, but for a long time, I just lie there, watching her. She’s soft and vulnerable, her face relaxed, lips slightly parted.
Watching her makes me feel like a creeper, plus there’s the pressing issue of my morning erection. Not what I want to deal with when she wakes up.
I brush her hair off her face and kiss her ear softly. “You want breakfast?”
She groans, burrowing into her pillow. “Coffee,” she mutters. I laugh softly and slip from her bed.
Her kitchen is depressingly empty. I don’t want to leave her—but she’s sleeping so deeply I think she might not notice.
I leave a note.
When I get back, Avery is awake—the bed is empty. She steps out of the bathroom, and I grin at her wide eyes. “Thought I ran off didn’t you?”
“It occurred to me, yeah. Did you bring me coffee?”
I smile, producing a cup. She smirks and comes closer. I want to kiss her, so much I almost don’t surrender the drink. Common sense makes me let it go and she steps back, inhaling the first whiff of coffee.
She finally looks up at me. “We have to talk, don’t we?”
I nod. But I’m not ready for it. Not ready to give her up.
"Can we not do this today?" I ask, reaching for her. She comes into my embrace and I smile as her scent washes over me, oddly soothing.
"Let's just have breakfast. I have to meet Dane this afternoon."
She nods against my chest and I push her toward the bar stools while I start breakfast.
Dane is outside when I pull up to his house. He looks up as I shut the truck door. The Viper gleams in the sun, water reflecting off it, and I smirk. "Got nothing better to do on a Saturday?"
He throws a wet sponge at me, and I laugh as I dodge it. "Your aim sucks."
"Shut the hell up," he grumbles. I grab a beer from the cooler by the driveway and watch him finish up the Viper.
It's a great car. Silver, in perfect condition, the 2001 Viper is the only thing he has left from his mother. For as long as I've known Dane, that car has been his baby.
"How did it go last night?"
For a split second, I think he's talking about Avery and I freeze. Then I remember Nik and dinner. "It was a train wreck—just like you'd expect. She won't sign voluntarily."
"So you take her to court. She was caught naked in a threesome. No judge will ever rule in her favor."
"I just want to be done with it. I'm tired of fighting with her."
Dane dumps out a bucket of water and grabs a soft towel to dry the car. "You should never have married her."
I nod. "I know. But I did. Now I have to clean up the mess."
"You are really good at making spectacular messes," Dane mutters.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you’re not thinking with your head, man. She called me this morning. Said you were seeing someone. Telling Nik that isn't gonna make her let you go."
"She doesn't really have a choice, Dane. The marriage is over."
"Yeah, that's the thing—it's not." Dane drops the cloth and straightens. "Look, I get it. Avery is special and she's gorgeous. She's smart and funny. She's into you. But you’re married, Atticus. You have to be straight with her about that—it's not fair to hide it."
"I'm not," I say automatically. He arches an eyebrow. "Not telling her isn't the same thing as hiding it."
It's a fine line, and Dane's look is calling me on it. "You care about her. She's not one of the bar flies you usually find. I get why you don't tell them. But if you want Avery to be different, treat her different."
I frown. "I thought you were against this."
He finishes off his beer and shrugs. "You’re gonna do it anyway. So I should probably make sure you don't fuck it up too royally, right?"
He laughs when I throw my beer at him
Chapter 14
Avery
"Did you pack the notes on Jean’s crew breaking the blockade?”
I shut the door of the truck and give Atticus a dark stare. “You worry too much. I’ve got everything. If I don’t, we won’t die in the next two days. Now let’s go.”
He flashes a grin at me. “You remember that I’m the boss, right?”
I lean over, plugging my phone into the radio and pulling up my current favorite playlist. “Keep telling yourself that, babe.”
Atticus laughs and pulls out of the apartment complex. After a lot of anxious nerves, four restless nights of very little sleep, and at least one soul-searching text convo with Kelly, it’s finally here.
We’re on our way to New Orleans.
“So who are we seeing again?”
“Daniel J. Bretaur. He claims to have some pages from the diary of one of Jean’s crew.”
“Do you believe him?” I ask, propping my feet on the dashboard.
“I won’t really know until we’ve see it. I think if it is, we could learn a lot about what life was like on a pirate ship for a normal crewman, instead of just the captain.”
I glance at him. He’s excited, the way he gets whenever he’s talking about his work. It’s adorably geeky. “You know this could be a wild goose chase. But you’re excited anyway.”
He grins, "Half the fun is the chase, Avery. You never know, until you’re there, if a source will pan out or if you're wasting your time. But its fun—it's not so different from chasing a treasure on a map."
"What got you into this line of study?" I ask.
"When I was a kid, my mom used to make these really extravagant maps and hide treasures and clues. My sister and I would spend hours searching for a treasure—usually it was a cheap toy or a new book. Nothing crazy. But it was fun, and one of the books was Treasure Island."
"And that got you onto pirates?"
He shrugs, a blush coloring his cheeks. "It's geeky, but it's always fascinated me."
I reach over, feather my fingers over his arm. "I didn't know you had a sister."
Atticus' eyes darken a little, something slipping over his gaze. "Yeah, Scout. She's my baby sister. Six years younger."
I can't stop my laugh, and he makes a face. "Mom liked the classics."
"Obviously." I sink deeper into my seat, lulled by the motion of the car and the warmth of the sun. My frappe is melting, half forgotten. I know I should sit up and talk to him—there is still so much we need to talk about. But sleep is pulling at me. I lean my head back, and he smiles at me, the smile that makes my insides melt. It's soft and sweet. "Go to sleep, baby."
I want to puzzle with the sudden endearment, want to bask in his affection. The warmth of it surrounds me like a blanket, and I fall asleep smiling.
I wake when we get off the expressway. The city is alive around us, the smell of salt and food and trash in the air. I shove my hair from my face and blink out the window.
New Orleans is nothing like I expected. The streets are narrow—so narrow I'm afraid we'll scrape the sides of the buildings with the side mirrors of Atticus' massive truck. He navigates easily, with the kind of half-acknowledged grace that marks almost everything he does.
It's fucking hot.
"Where are we staying?"
"The French Quarter. The St. Marie.”
I almost ask if we have separate rooms, but Atticus is tense and I don't want to annoy him. And I'm not really sure what answer I want from him. He pulls up to the front of a gorgeous hotel, the façade a crumbling brick with wrought iron railing around tiny balconies. "Come on."
I slip out of the car and stretch, my back popping as he gives instructions to the valet. Then he grabs my hand and we go inside.
A fountain in the lobby is a gorgeous cascade of little waterfalls and spinning wheels that spin down to land in a wide pool gleaming with pennies and dimes. It’s gorgeous and tarnished, and it reminds me of a book I read once.
“Avery?”
I twist to look at him. Atticus is standing there holding two key ring
s, long skeleton keys dangling from the silver loops.
“I have our room keys, but—” He hesitates, and I see again the indecision in his eyes. “—do you want to get something to eat first?”
I lick my lips, feel his gaze tracing the motion, and nod.
Atticus
She’s so anxious, her hands fiddling with the silverware and smoothing the napkin repeatedly.
Which is actually an improvement, since she shredded the last one. A waitress comes by, and I order for both of us—sausage and chicken creole with Bloody Marys and a side of fried pickles—and then I turn to her.
“So, I reserved two rooms.”
Disappointment flashes across her pretty face, and I reach for her hand. “You stay wherever you want. But I felt like you should have the option to not be with me.”
She frowns. “Why? Have I given you a reason to think I want the option?”
The waitress drops off the Bloody Marys, and I reach for the salt, swirling the celery around to mix the drink again. “Here’s the thing, Avery. You’re gorgeous, and I’d love to be with you. I think you know that. But there are some pretty big obstacles.”
“You aren’t my professor,” she points out. “And classes aren’t even in session. What we do—or don’t do—is no one’s business but our own.”
“That’s debatable,” I say, “but that’s not everything.”
She tenses, staring at me with big wary eyes. When she’s like this, I can see the echoes of pain in her that makes me wonder who hurt her. It reminds me that as much as I like her, as much time as we’ve spent together, there is still so much we don’t know about each other.
“I went to high school in Branton. I grew up there. It’s why everyone knows me.”
She sits back, not saying anything, watching me as she runs a fingernail around the top of her glass. “I went to school with some good friends—Dane and a few others I stayed in touch with over the years. And Nikki.”
She stiffens, but I keep going. I don’t think I can start again, if I stop. “Nikki grew up next door to me. She was as close to me as Scout. I don’t think we ever really discussed it—we just sorta fell into each other. It wasn’t right or wrong, it was just easy. Being together was easy. She went to UB with me, and we stayed together—got an apartment and played house and drank a lot. We were both in Greek houses, and we were having fun. I knew I didn’t want to stay there—I could have taken a position at the high school teaching history. But I wanted to study pirates and Jean Lafitte, and I wanted to teach college.”
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