“My grandparents live in Oklahoma. I used to visit every summer,” she said dismissively. “Listen, you’re doing a crackerjack job as supervisor. The S.A.C. clearly has an eye on you. You’re going to be at Quantico before you can say office affair.”

I nearly choked on my fry. “Val, you’re killing me.”

“He can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

I shook my head. “Stop.”

She teased me with a knowing look. “He smiles sometimes when you walk by. I don’t know. It’s kind of cute. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Shut up.”

“So, what about Travis’s wedding?”

I shrugged. “We’re going to spend the night in Illinois, and then we’ll go to St. Thomas.”

Val’s grin was contagious.

I chuckled. “What? Knock it off, Val! It’s work.”

She threw a fry at me, and then she allowed me to finish my lunch in peace.

We left Fuzzy’s to head back to the office.

As we passed Marks’s office, he waved at Val. “Hey! Meet me at Cutter’s tonight,” he said.

“Tonight?” She shook her head. “No, I have to buy groceries.”

“Groceries?” he said, making a face. “You don’t cook.”

“Bread. Salt. Mustard. I have nothing,” she said.

“Meet me afterward. Maddox is coming.” His eyes floated to me for just a fraction of a second, long enough to make my cheeks flush pink.

I retreated to my office, not wanting to seem eager to hear of Thomas’s plans. Just as I sat in my throne and woke up my laptop, Sawyer knocked on the partially open door.

“Bad time?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, rolling the mouse. I clicked on the icon for my email and frowned as I read the numerous subject lines. “How in the hell does this happen? I’m gone for an hour, and I have thirty-two new messages.”

Sawyer shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb. “We’re needy. There’s an email from me.”

“Great.”

“Do you want to go to Cutter’s tonight?”

“Is that the only bar in the neighborhood?”

He shrugged, walking toward my desk and falling into a chair. He leaned back, his knees spread and his fingers intertwined at his chest.

“This isn’t my living room, Agent.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, sitting up. “Cutter’s is just where we go. It’s close for a lot of us who live in the area.”

“Why do so many of us live in that area?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Housing has a good relationship with the property owners. It’s fairly close to the office. It’s a nice neighborhood, and for Midtown, it’s pretty affordable.” He smiled. “There’s a little eatery in Mission Hills called Brooklyn Girl. It’s pretty fantastic. Want to go there?”

“Where is Mission Hills?”

“About ten minutes from your condo.”