Page 73 of Remade

I made my way to our room, only to be met by a fucking note. No hug or kiss? Bullshit.

I dropped my duffel on the floor and read what he’d written in his chicken scratch.

Welcome home, beast. You’ve been missed.

Take a shower and dress comfortably.

Barbecue on the roof.

When you see me, kiss me hard.

—L

I guessed I could do that.

Fuck me, my foot really hurt.

I dragged my ass through the top floor, past all the empty offices that belonged to staff that worked nine-to-five, and ran a hand through my hair. Maybe I should’ve dried it a bit more.

He’d said dress comfortably, so he better not give me shit for showing up in sweats and a hoodie. I was fucking drained—and famished.

When I got closer to the terrace, I could hear voices. Leighton wasn’t alone, though I’d expected that. I just hoped it wasn’t a grand shindig. Neither of us liked those. He’d specifically told me not to go big for his birthday a couple months ago, and it’d made me fall even deeper in love with the little shit. Instead, we’d had a nice steakhouse dinner, and I’d given him more gift cards, this time so he could buy everything he’d need for a two-week trek in the rainforest in Ecuador.

It was hard to think final selection was upon us. Just one month to go before we flew to South America for our last three weeks of recruit training. One week of testing and drills, two weeks of monitoring screens as the recruits took on a brutal orienteering trek by themselves.

I pushed open the door to the terrace, immediately doing a head count. Not too bad. Coach, Riggs, Leighton—and I saw Crew was still here with his hubby, Adrien. Both had assisted Coach in the last week of RTI training and the introduction of infiltration tactics, with the latter being Adrien’s specialty. I’d met him for the first time last fall, and he had an impressive résumé after years working undercover for the Feds. Jones had recruited him since then.

Whatever Coach had put on the grill smelled fantastic too.

“He’s here! You’re here!” Leighton lit up, cute as fuck, and hurried toward me, and I instantly wondered if he was drunk.

There was something about his grin…

My heart drummed a little faster, and then I finally had my arms around him again.

Christ, this was insane. I squeezed him to me and pressed my lips to the side of his head, and I let a week’s worth of missinghim drain out of me. Almost eight months together, and I was still falling for him. How was that fucking possible?

I cupped his cheek and dipped down to kiss him hard; after all, he’d ordered me to.

He smiled and kissed me back.

“I missed you,” I murmured.

“So fucking much.”

I nodded minutely and got some tongue action before I pulled away. I just needed a proper look at him. He’d tasted sweet, and the dopey look in his eyes made me grin.

“Are you tipsy?”

His smile was infectious. “A little? We’re celebrating.”

“Oh yeah?”

He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. Highly distracting. “I’m celebrating that I passed my RTI training, and Coach is celebrating that he got Darius to act as a consultant on your next op.”

Wow. That Leighton had passed was naturally impressive, but the fact that Darius would play a part in my taking down Omar Said was nothing short of a miracle. Holy hell.

“I’d say that’s definitely worth celebrating.” I pressed a kiss to my boy’s cheek, ready to pour another drink down his throat. I bet he was a fun little drunk.

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