Page 48 of The Spy Ring

Her hand went to her chest. Tiffany laughed and it was melodic. Her cheeks flushed and that smile was worth suffering through a thousand hangovers.

Her eyebrow rose as her laughter subsided. “I’m assuming you liked the food?”

“God, yes. How do you make toast taste like heaven?”

“I’m pretty sure the bees do that.” She took a sip from her cup, never taking her eyes off me.

Fuck, she was sexy when she drank coffee. And cooked. And laughed. And stood there doing nothing.

“The bees?”

“They made the honey that gave the toast the sweetness.”

No, I’m pretty sure it was you that gave it that sweetness.

“I almost forgot.” She stood and disappeared down the hall.

My gaze drifted around the room. Her place, decorated in soft colors, looked like a comfortable home. Nothing about it stood out, but at the same time, it drew me in like a warm blanket on a cold winter day.

I smiled at the thought of how much her place reflected her. There’s only one thing missing to make this room perfect. And as I comprehended that thought, that one thing strolled into the room.

“Aleve. It’s all I got but it works great on headaches.” Tiffany jiggled a small blue and white bottle.

She placed it in front of me on the counter. I stared at the plastic bottle as a war raged inside me. This time the battle involved guilt fighting attraction. Tiffany was like the sexiest nurse to never wear a uniform. One more fantasy for me to fuck my hand with tonight.

My hand and I had been getting to know each other a lot these past several weeks.

I threw the pills into my mouth but realized I had no water and had long since finished my Pedialyte. Instead of walking into the kitchen and getting some water, I made my way down the hall to the bathroom.

I locked the door behind me. After getting enough water from the sink to swallow the pills, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I looked like crap. Physically, I was starting to feel better—her food helped. But what I felt was reflected in that mirror.

I had lied to Tiffany for so long. First about being her son’s PT, then not letting her know about our marriage, and finally, spying on her. At least I explained that I wasn’t her son’s therapist and finally came clean about the marriage. But I still haven’t told her about the spying and it was screwing with my head. I took the devices away, the ones I could find. It was a stupid move. I’m glad they fired me because I deserved it.

After splashing water on my face, using some of her mouthwash, and washing my hands, I decided to go back out there and be honest with her. I may never see her again after that, but at least I won’t feel so much like a scumbag.

As I emerged from the bathroom and slowly walked down the hall like a man making his way to the electric chair, I hesitated as I entered the living room. She was standing there waiting for me. Did she know I was about to admit to being an appalling excuse of a human being?

She frowned and it was the confirmation I needed. Tiffany must know.

“So, uh, what do I call you?” she asked.

“Asshole maybe, or how about turd-blossom? I always liked that insult for some reason.” I tried to laugh it off, but she wasn’t having it.

“Why would I insult you? I just want to know if I should call you Jagger or Geoffrey?”

My stomach did that thing when it wanted to try out for the Olympics by doing a half summersault followed by a backflip.

“My name? Did I tell you that last night or do you remember what I told you in Vegas?”

For so long I feared she would start to remember me telling her my real name in Las Vegas. Now, it didn’t matter. It’s not like the government could fire me again.

I don’t remember much from last night. The most I could recall was buzzing her building. After that, it was a blank.

“Last night. I still can’t recall anything from Vegas.”

“I’m so used to Jagger now, it almost doesn’t feel right to be called Geoffrey.”

She paused and bit her lip. “I’ll say both names and you see how it feels.”

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