Page 54 of Code Name: Harbor

So happy I don’t know what to do with my body.

“Eggs,” I say, holding up the carton.

“In a minute.”

“In a minute the butter’s going to burn.”

“I’ll buy you new butter.”

“You’re rotten and I kind of love it,” I admit.

He must take that as capitulation because he turns me by the hips and his mouth comes down on mine. I sink into the kiss, thinking Fuck the eggs.

But then he lifts his head, smiling down at me with that charming, boyish grin that weakens my knees.

“Eggs,” he says, pointing down to the crushed shell in my hand. “You’re falling down on the job.”

“You started it.”

“I know I started it.” His hand slides under my shirt, palm flat against my stomach. I’m going to fail at breakfast, and we are both going to be hungry, and it’s going to be entirely his fault, and well… I’m okay with it.

The key scraping in the mudroom door is not a sound I process at first. That small metallic click registers as something I should pay attention to, then I hear the door open.

“Josie-bug?” a man’s voice calls out.

I freeze and Finn’s hand stops mid-slide.

“Honey? I’m here. I brought your garbage cans up from the street for you.” Bill McAdams enters the kitchen. ”Did you get a new car? There’s a Range Rover in the—”

He stops mid-sentence and mid-stride, staring at me and Finn across the counter.

For a long, frozen, silent beat, the three of us are completely still. Bill McAdams stands there, his eyes wide behind his wire-framed spectacles. He radiates every bit the retired marine with close-cropped, iron-gray hair and a military ramrod-straight spine. His eyes travel quickly over us, Finn’s hand under my shirt at my stomach. I’m acutely aware that we’re both half dressed, Finn shirtless in a pair of jeans and… did I put on panties? Yes, I did, but my T-shirt barely covers them.

Finn is the first to move, pulling his hand out from under my shirt.

My father is the first to recover his voice. “Oh, hell.”

“Dad,” I say in surprise, grabbing a towel to wipe the egg from my hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Honey, I—Christ, I didn’t mean to—” He turns away. Turns back. Turns away again.

He is, in this moment, less the retired marine general and more a man who has walked into a situation he doesn’t have a procedure for. “I knocked.”

“You did not knock.”

“I knocked in spirit.”

“Dad!”

“I’m sorry. I never thought you’d—” He stops, takes a breath and recalibrates. “I haven’t seen anyone here before. I saw the car but just assumed you got a new one. I guess I…”

“You should have called,” I admonish gently.

He looks thoroughly chagrined and embarrassed. “I’m just going to go—”

“Absolutely not,” Finn says, stepping away from me and rounding the kitchen island. “I’m Finn Marlowe.” He offers his hand to my dad who shakes it. “And you’re Bill McAdams. Josie’s told me so much about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

My dad can be protective and sometimes overbearing, but he’s never impolite. He takes Finn’s hand, appraising him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. “Nice to meet you.”