K. R. Treadway
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Opposites Distract 11: Home Assigned Home
🕑 Added 2025-03-02 16:00:07 +0000 UTC
~ Edgar ~
Edgar was acting casual.
He wasn't casual, not with the tension in his shoulders creating an ache across his back, but he was trying. He'd already changed into jeans and a T-shirt, so there's was nothing left to do.
Unless he wanted to look out the window for a fourth time.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed deeper into the cheap couch. Sheer willpower kept him in place—barely—while he waited for Liv to arrive.
The case had gone a little off-course.
He snorted. Profound understatement from a man who prided himself on being risk averse. He’d taken massive gambles today, and that was before locking himself and Liv into a fake relationship. Edgar meant what he’d told her afterward—he didn't regret shutting Collins up. But the talk with Hartnell had been nerve-wracking. He hadn't been able to get a clear read on his boss’s mood.
Edgar sat forward, ignoring the twinge from his stiff shoulders—a car was approaching. He listened as the throaty engine got louder. A crackle of car tires on gravel joined in, running right to the outside of the tiny bungalow. Silence. A car door slammed. He made himself press back into the uncomfortable cushions.
Wait for the knock. Be. Casual.
There it was, a quiet tap on the door. The couch flew back a few inches as he leapt to his feet, heart pounding like his prom date had arrived. Not that Liv was a date. She was his highly inconvenienced partner, which made this much worse.
Nervously running a hand through his hair, Edgar undid the locks and opened the door.
“Here.” A heavy cardboard tray was shoved into his hands.
“Oh. All right.” Edgar clutched at it as Liv edged past him into the bungalow.
He stared down at the two mismatched cups in the tray. One was so small its official size might have been “dinky,” while the other was probably “super-jumbo-plus.” They looked like an optical illusion. He carefully set the unbalanced tray down on the kitchenette counter and tried not to fidget while Liv took in the space.
After a moment, she tossed her purse onto the couch. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“The bathroom and shower are through there.” He pointed. She raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question. “That’s the rest of it,” he confessed.
No reply. Instead, she lowered her gaze and directed a scowl into the floor like a discharged bullet. That’s when he noticed the faint color in her cheeks and how hard she was gripping her elbows. “Perfect.” A gruff word quiet as a whisper.
This felt wrong. Liv was avoiding his eyes, her vulnerable body language at complete odds with the corporate shark outfit she was wearing. Worse, her body language was wrong for her. It pained him to be the cause of this subdued state, but he knew one sure way to remind her who she was.
“Did the tail follow you here?” he asked.
The question brought her head up. Some of Liv’s distraction cleared away. “Sure did. Guy has pathetic craft—or he was just plain lazy. Zoomed right past the driveway! Should have pulled off as soon as he lost the traffic screen and confirmed the location on foot.”
Like you would have done. Because you’re amazing. Instead of speaking that dangerous thought, he said, “Anyone from the agency jump in?”
“Hell yeah.” She grinned. “I led the target on a merry chase while Hartnell got one of the juniors on the road. So now our tail has a tail. Soon we’ll snag a plate, and—if we’re lucky—an ID.”
Edgar felt his chest loosen at Liv’s revival. Work talk was safe territory, and no one was more at home in the minutiae of an investigation than she was. “I’m glad you spotted him, Liv,” he said truthfully. “You may have saved the case.”
A small smile played over her lips. “Thanks.”
The warm way she said it made the unsettled feeling in his stomach, the one he’d been enduring since she arrived, spin and flip. It almost felt like exhilaration, which set his mental alarm bell clanging.
What the hell happened to ‘casual’? This woman barely sees you as a colleague. Stop letting her affect you! “So…” He gestured hurriedly at the tray. “What’s up with the drinks?”
“You don't recognize bespoke beverages from Caffiends when you see them? It's a locally famous coffee joint.” Her smirk brought out his own.
“Oh yeah, I've heard of that place. Don't folks go way out of their way just to try it?”
Liv pointed a finger gun and made an adorable little mouth click. “So they say.”
Lifting her foot, she undid the strap on one of her shoes and tossed it into the main living area. The remaining stiletto heel was so tall that she wobbled precariously. Edgar quickly grabbed her hand and upper arm. At first she went rigid, but then she gave him a tight smile and used the support to change feet and remove the other shoe.
“Appreciate it,” she murmured. Her blue eyes met his, and this time they didn't immediately look away. Her perfume, a faint floral scent he remembered from their kiss, was now pleasantly entwined with an undercurrent of coffee. He wondered if it would change the taste of her lips…
“Coffee,” he said, like a drowning man grabbing the nearest piece of flotsam.
She blinked. “What?”
Edgar dropped his hands and stepped back. “Uh, what kind of coffee did you buy? Those sizes don't exactly match.”
“Oh.” She gently tossed her other shoe next to the first, then stepped over and pulled out the tiny cup. “Small black coffee for me,” she said, peeling back the plastic tab. “And the other one is yours.”
“Uh, all of it?”
“It’s called ‘sinful cinnamon sunrise surprise.’ ” She shrugged and took a sip.
Edgar tugged the cup loose. “My God.” Maybe its unexpected heft was the surprise.“This is coffee?”
“Or a sundae. I wasn't paying much attention, to be honest. But I’ll tell you this, hun,” she said with a dangerous smile, “it’s my boyfriend's favorite.”
Edgar knew a challenge when he heard one. “I’d almost forgot,” he said drily, “but of course you would remember because you’re so thoughtful.” There was no tab, so he carefully prised the lid off. His brow furrowed. “That is…a lot of cinnamon.” The top layer might have been whip cream, but the cinnamon covered it like ash from a volcanic eruption.
“Hm,” Liv commented, her expression amused as she took another sip of her adult-appropriate coffee. Edgar bit the inside of his mouth and stabbed a straw into the mountain. Definitely whip cream.
“No resistance. So it appears to be a beverage.” He sucked a large swallow from the bottom. Pure bitterness threatened to shrivel his mouth to nothing. In or out, the mystery liquid had to go. Refusing to surrender, Edgar fought it down and pulled in a desperate breath. The loose cinnamon shot straight into his lungs.
As he hacked and coughed, eyes running, Liv finally lost it, giving a full-on cackle. It wasn't the evil laugh he might have expected, but the delighted noise of someone who loves dumb slapstick. The sound was infectious, and before he knew it his coughing had transitioned into a helpless combination of wheezing and chuckling.
“Oh…oh damn…” Liv said between giggles. “That was better than the time I got Sharon to do the cinnamon challenge.”
“And I found the surprise,” Edgar croaked, coughing out the last of the flavorful dust. When she gave him a questioning look, he answered, “Double—maybe triple—espresso on the bottom.”
“Really? Ouch.” Her eyes squeezed in sympathy, turning her smile rueful. “I didn't know that. Honest.”
He gave a skeptical head tilt. “Would you take a polygraph?”
“Polygraph tests are notoriously unreliable,” she said, playing along. Then she giggled again and he felt his own mouth turning upward in betrayal. For the first time in hours, he felt a fragile equilibrium return to their partnership.
Liv’s phone rang while she was finishing her coffee and he was brushing the front of his shirt. She quickly wiped her mouth and answered. “Hello? Yes, sir, I'm here. I'll put it on speaker.” She tapped the button and set the phone down.
“Can you both hear me?” Hartnell’s voice was still bright and alert, which just made Edgar feel more tired. After they acknowledged they could, he announced, “Mr. Perez successfully tailed our subject back to a vacation rental. We have plates and a description of the man. Might mean nothing if they've covered their tracks, but I'm determined to squeeze blood from this stone.”
“Does that mean we’re monitoring this new guy full-time?” Edgar asked.
“Mr. Griffon already approved the cost increase for ongoing surveillance.” Edgar and Liv looked at each other with raised eyebrows. That explained Hartnell's evident glee. “But let’s focus on you two. It’s been a long day and I want to wrap this up so you can eat.” He cleared his throat. “First, your cover will remain in place, only with the caveat that you are now a couple—assuming there are no objections?”
“That’s fine,” Edgar replied. He waited for Liv to answer, fighting the urge to squeeze his monstrous coffee cup until it overflowed.
“No objections,” she said after three agonizing seconds. Edgar tried not to let his breath whoosh out.
“That location is rather…small.” Their boss sounded regretful. “It’s a shame we had to assume Mr. Sharp was followed or we would have used Liv’s rental.”
“Yeah…” Edgar said quietly. “I didn’t spot the tail while I was on the phone. I wish—” He was startled silent when Liv lightly tapped his forearm.
“We both decided that informing you about the lab incident took top priority,” she said. “Edgar had to call from the car because security was giving us the stink eye. It was bad timing.”
Edgar struggled to keep his mouth from falling open. Had Liv just defended him?
“I'm glad he called when he did,” Hartnell answered. “Besides, I'm not convinced this isn't a net benefit—living arrangements aside. Being a couple means it won't be unusual for you to be seen together. It will also simplify the paper trail if our saboteurs go poking around your identities. I’ve already got the necessary changes underway.” Maybe he was trying to spin things in a positive light, but he sounded sincere enough.
“Sir, what about my clothes?” Liv glanced down at her outfit, now sporting some epic wrinkles.
“Oh, I’ve thought about that,” Edgar said. He looked at her. “If you don’t mind, Sharon could go to the other rental and pack a bag of essentials. Then, before work tomorrow, we can use our fake courier van to drop off a priority package from ‘Mr. Johnson.’ Something big enough to hold your emergency clothes. The rest could be delivered by more dummy packages later in the week.”
Liv cocked her head, thinking. Then she nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that should work.” She sounded relieved.
“Excellent,” Hartnell said. “I’ll set it up. Liv, you text Sharon a list of what you need. Just fend for yourselves tonight. We’ll have everything running smoothly in a day or so. Sleep well!” The call ended.
Edgar and Liv looked at each other. Then, like an unconscious signal had passed between them, they both glanced at the single-room bungalow’s single bed.
