Page 57 of Honor

I always try to keep a tidy home, but when I woke up, I realized that I had spent much of the past week tossing my clothes on the bright orange futon that sits under one of my windows.

The last tenant abandoned the futon, but after I steam cleaned it, and bought a yellow throw blanket to cover most of it I realized what a gem it is.

I ended up crashing on it when my mom visited me because I wanted her to take the bed. Since then, it’s become a collection spot for whatever I don’t want touching the worn hardwood floors.

I make a point of glancing over my shoulder as my boss gets his first look at my apartment.

His expression is impossible to read, so I don’t even try.

“You can put the bags on the kitchen counter,” I tell him, pointing in that direction even though it’s unnecessary since he can see what I’ve deemed as the kitchen from where he’s standing.

Technically, the kitchen consists of a row of cupboards, a small fridge, and a two-burner stove with a compact oven. There is a dishwasher, but it’s broken, so it’s just another storage spot for me.

Mr. Hunt walks over to the counter and sets the bags down. Before I can thank him, he’s reaching for the pint of strawberry ice cream I picked up as a treat. He makes himself at home by opening the freezer to shove it in there next to the almost empty ice cube tray.

“I can handle the rest.” I rush toward him. “Thank you for the help, sir.”

“Reid,” he corrects me. “Start calling me Reid.”

The gentle reminder brings a blush to my face. With himdressed like this and standing in my apartment, it doesn’t exactly feel the same as when we’re in the office, and he’s decked out in one of his Italian-made suits.

This feels nice.

“Reid,” I say his name with a smile. “It’s going to take some time for me to get used to that.”

“Me too.”

He finishes placing my groceries for the week on the counter before he ducks down to put the milk and a few fresh vegetables in the fridge.

“Thank you again.” The words leave me in a rush. “I’d offer you something to drink, but as you can see, I only have milk.”

“Have you had lunch, Evangeline?”

I shake my head. “No, sir…I mean Reid.”

He tilts his chin down. “How do you feel about seafood tacos?”

“I love them.” I clap my hands together. “I’ve never had any in this city, though.”

“Never?” he questions, his eyebrows perking.

“No. Never.”

He reaches for the phone in his back pocket. “I’ll call Basil. I’ll get him to drive us over to Atlas 22.”

“Atlas 22?” I let out a low whistle. “I’ve walked past that restaurant dozens of times, and studied their menu online. Everything looks delicious.”

“It is,” he assures me with a grin. “I’ll make that call to Basil now.”

“It’s Sunday,” I remind him. “Isn’t it his day off?”

“Basil works when I tell him to work.”

Of course, my boss would say that. He expects every person in his orbit to bend to his needs.

“Let him enjoy his Sunday.” My hands drop to my hips. “We can take the subway to the restaurant.”

Confusion knits his brow. “The subway?”

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