Page 24 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

“I don’t spoon,” Celeste protested.

“Whatever you say, little spoon.” His index finger rimmed her ear and it felt so good she immediately hopped off the couch, landing a few feet away in a jump worthy of the gymnast she had once secretly aspired to be.

“I’m going to shower.”

Sam blinked up at her, brown eyes brimming with amusement. “The power’s out.”

“I’ll improvise,” she called, already heading toward the stairs. There was no need to improvise, however. Halfway up the power flicked on. The water would be freezing. She was tempted to jump in but knew she would immediately regret the rash action. While she waited for the water heater to do its magic, she performed a mini workout, jumping jacks, burpees, sit ups, push ups, squats and lunges. Her protesting muscles unkindly reminded her how infrequent her workouts had become since she retired.I need to stay in shape. I need to keep myself in order. In every way.

By the time she finished jumping around, she was warm and so was the water. She stepped beneath the spray, hoping it would wash away her confusing mix of thoughts and feelings. Celeste felt like she was standing on some sort of ledge. Across from her was the next part of her life, the person she wanted to be. Between that person and the ledge was a fathomless cavern she had no idea how to cross. Worse, she had no idea what the other side looked like, only that she needed to get there as soon as possible. But one thing she knew for certain, down to her marrow, was that the way did not lie with some man as her salvation, and especially not Sam who was temporary with a pastas sketchy as hers. Since she was a child, she had only relied on herself because she was the only person she could trust to keep her safe. She hadn’t changed that in fifteen years in the army and she certainly wouldn’t change it now.

Resolved once more, she threw on warm, clean clothes and brushed her teeth, running a comb through her hair. She could dress up and look good when she wanted, could be stunning and possibly even mesmerizing. It was a skill that had served her well as an assassin, using her looks to distract targets. Everyone responded to beauty, especially egotistical men. But now, in this new life, she was content to remain as natural as possible. Though she couldn’t articulate why, it felt good in that deep secret place she kept hidden to be as authentic as possible.Simplicity,she thought with a nod, vowing to write it down. Whenever she stumbled on a word she liked, one that pinged on her internal radar as important, she tried to write it down. She hoped journaling might heal all the things that had gone wrong with her before life. In the same way, she hoped capturing the new words and feelings might help her articulate the things she wanted for her future. So far the list consisted ofintegrity, kindness, authenticity,and nowsimplicity.

Maybe I’ll become a shaker,she thought, inspecting her walls to see if she could affix pegs to them. Once on a school field trip she toured a Shaker Village. Their simple, homespun life made a deep impression on a little girl whose world was pure chaos. The shakers had died off because of their unbending embrace of celibacy.Won’t be a problem for me,Celeste thought wryly, purposely ignoring the boyishly cute man now dominating her living room.

When she jogged down the steps, Sam sat on the couch, staring at her. The amusement on his face was the same as before she left. He might not have moved at all, except his hairwas wet, as if he’d tried to clean himself up in the downstairs bathroom, which he probably had.

“I have towels and soap,” she announced.

“I hope you used them,” he returned.

She rolled her eyes. “I meant for you. I’m not the hostest with the mostest, so I sort of forget all the things I should probably be doing.”

“You’re doing fine,” he said in that warm and reassuring way that made little prickles of what felt a lot like pain jab against her chest. Her heart was bundled, safe and protected in the solid cage she’d erected. Kindness, gentleness, all the good things she’d longed for as a child now butted against that cage, wounding her with their failed attempts to gain entry. She would not, could not open the cage and let anyone in. She’d learned that lesson on repeat in the hardest ways possible. Others could not be trusted, especially men.

“Just tell me if you need something, or feel free to get it yourself. I’m not territorial about things like about.”

“About things like that,” he repeated slowly, studying her as if compiling some sort of list about her.

Ignoring him, she went to the kitchen, turned off the kerosene heater, and poured two bowls of cereal, setting one in front of him on the table.

“Thank you,” he murmured, staring at it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said and picked up his spoon.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, pointing her spoon accusingly at him.

“That’s your prerogative,” he said, tossing her a smile before he took a bite.

“You’re irksome,” she said, and he covered his mouth to keep from spewing cereal while he chewed and laughed. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re cute.”

“Yesterday it was adorable.”

“It downgraded when you left me freezing on the couch,” he said.

“Then I guess you should prepare yourself. By the time you leave here, my inaccessibility will downgrade me to troll.”

“Not possible. Also what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting? I’m single. We both know this is a blip.” He froze and stared at her. “Unless you’re not single. You’re not secretly married to someone who is going to now kill me are you?”

“No, I prefer to handle things like that myself,” she said, draining her milk. “I’m single, by choice and for all eternity.”

“Why?” he asked.

She glanced at her blank wrist. “Look at that. I have to be literally anywhere other than this conversation. Rain check. Also, I don’t take rain checks.”

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