A Spy Like Me (8 page)

His cocky self-assuredness was gone and in
its place was genuine concern. For me.

I managed to swallow. “Just waiting to hear
back from a friend.”

He took his mug over to the sink and rinsed
it out like he’d been living here for a year, then he rubbed his
hands together. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Not really. Unless you have a crystal ball
or a magic wand.”

“Sorry.” Malcolm shrugged. “Where do we go
from here?”

“
We
are not going anywhere.”

I wouldn’t consider me almost getting him
killed the start of an epic romance. The silence grew heavy with
expectation as I struggled to find the right words. Maybe if I
apologized he’d forget about my impulsive actions. I was sure he
was trying to lure me in for some sort of big revenge.

“Hope you don’t mind spending a lot of time
with me,” he said with mischief in his smile.

I remembered the kiss. Again. His soft lips.
But I don’t date anyone based on a kiss. Okay, screw that. A hot
kiss totally makes me want a second date. It was what happened
after the kiss that ruined everything. But who was he to waltz into
my kitchen at this time in the morning? And why did he keep acting
like we worked together?

“Why are you here?” I asked.

His eyes widened and understanding flashed
across his face. I waved the knife in the air to show I meant what
I said. I mean, I really didn’t know anything about this guy.

He stood and took a step closer. “The note
explains everything.”

Trust in my knowledge of the situation
disappeared.

“I thought you knew I was here.” He glanced
at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

“Oh.” How could I have slept that long? And
with Aimee missing?

He smiled and glanced down at my lack of
clothing. “That explains the outfit.”

“You think I entertain all guests this
way?”

He smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but
I cut him off. “Don’t answer that.”

His face grew serious. “Your dad was supposed
to leave you a note.”

“I’m sure you noticed by the way I stumbled
into the kitchen I’m not in the habit of looking for notes by my
bed.”

He raised his hands as if to show his
innocence while closing the gap between us. My hand shook.

“I met with your dad this morning. One of his
employees left suddenly and he needed a quick replacement. I wanted
an exciting job for some extra cash and it sounded perfect.”

He might as well have taken the knife and
plunged it into my heart. A replacement for Aimee already?

“Well don’t sign any contracts yet,” I said.
“Because we still don’t have confirmation she really left. Hate to
disappoint you.”

“I already signed on the dotted line. I start
training today. With you. Mornings only because most afternoons I
still have to work at
Les Pouffant’s
.” Then he took the
final step and grabbed my wrist. With his other hand, he gently
eased the knife from my grasp and laid it on the table. “Sorry
about your friend.”

I tried to pull away, my hopes crashing. How
could my dad sign someone so soon? He didn’t even wait a day.

Malcolm pulled me closer, his fingers
loosening their grip. My eyes lingered on the tiny flecks of
charcoal in his eyes, the faint blush to his cheeks, and the way
his hair fell just below his eyebrows. Okay, working with him might
not be that bad.

“I could really use your help with this whole
spy thing. Please?”

Damn. He was good.

I found the note confirming Malcolm’s story.
Fine. I’d train him but I’d look for Aimee too. The first stop
would be
Les Pouffant’s
to sign up for that Extravaganza
thing. And even though she’d never texted back, I clung to the
small shred of hope she’d be waiting for me with the sun sparkling
off her hair, smiling and waving.

At the café, Malcolm and I hovered at the
edge of the outdoor patio. I searched the flow of customers but
Aimee was nowhere to be seen. Malcolm babbled on about espionage in
a newbie sort-of excited way, something about night vision
goggles.

I placed my hand on his arm to shut him up.
“I’m going to check inside. You keep watch. I’ll be right
back.”

I walked into
Les Pouffant’s
and
strode over to the glass case. No one noticed me because some woman
was crying and babbling in French into the arms of Pouffant
himself. He snapped his fingers and the
maitre d’
scurried
over with a steaming cup of cocoa. Watching him listen and care for
her made me feel a bit empty. I missed my friends and my mom.

The official Extravaganza sign-up was taped
to the front counter. Prize money would be offered to the
contestant who made it to the finals a month from now. The
preliminaries were in less than two weeks. Mom’s words came back to
me about meeting at some pastry thing. This Extravaganza was
it.

I signed up then hurried back outside.

Malcolm was leaning against a lamppost with
his legs crossed, so casual and relaxed. He held a cup of coffee in
his hands. “Is this part of the Spy Games route? You and your
friend came here often enough.”

I took up guard next to him, my eyes glued on
the moving faces. “It’s not part of the route, but we started every
morning here.” I felt like a robot, shooting out the answer to his
question without any thought. Muscles in my arms and legs tensed,
willing Aimee to appear. Strangers weaved through the tables, and I
wanted to scream at them to move out of the way. I couldn’t leave
until I was absolutely sure.

“How do you start a typical work day? After
coffee and croissants, that is.”

“We meet at the warehouse, my dad introduces
the mission, the staff does a bit of training. Blah, blah, blah.” I
couldn’t stop glancing at the table where Aimee and I usually sat,
hoping she’d appear. Just yesterday morning, before the start of
the games, I’d told her about my date with Malcolm. Maybe I’d been
so busy talking about myself, I’d never given her a chance to talk.
Maybe she couldn’t break through my blabber to tell me she was
leaving.

“You want to talk about it?” Malcolm
interrupted my thoughts.

“Right, the debriefing. Wear long johns
because it gets kinda chilly hanging from the rafters. And don’t
forget gloves for the bat poop.”

“I meant talk about whatever it is you’re
worried about.” His head tilted to the side and it was like every
fiber of his being was focused on me.

“I was thinking about Aimee.”

“The friend you meet here?”

I nodded. “And the one who supposedly quit
the games to travel the world.”

“But you don’t believe that.” He blew on his
coffee, meeting my eyes over the rim of his cup.

“Not really.” I longed to hold a latte, feel
the warmth on my hands, a simple distraction. But I probably
wouldn’t enjoy another one until I found Aimee.

“Sometimes people make impulsive decisions.
Ones they might regret later.” Malcolm emphasized the word regret
and didn’t take his eyes off me.

Inch by inch, the slow burn of embarrassment
crept across my neck and face. By the tiny quirk of his lips and
the glimmer of mischief in his eyes, I knew he was referring to me.
Time to get this out in the open. “Yeah, um, sorry about the other
night and you almost getting killed. That usually doesn’t happen on
my first dates. And thanks for helping me out with Peyton.”

Malcolm pressed his lips together and paused,
as if to stretch out my ultimate humiliation. “Apology accepted. I
just wish the kiss had lasted longer.”

My face turned the color of a crimson sunset,
or that was what it felt like. I tripped over my words, until I
managed to ask the question burning on my mind. “How’d you get
home?”

“I can’t tell you all my secrets.” He leaned
into me and whispered, “But I am known to like a bit of
revenge.”

As soon as he said that, he pulled back and
acted like he hadn’t just threatened me. Or flirted? I couldn’t
tell, so I changed the subject.

“Enough.” I wanted to pin him to the floor
and hold a butter knife to his neck until he took our problems, my
problems, seriously.

He tipped his head back for the last drops
from his cup.

I grabbed a small metal serving tray off a
table and hit him in the stomach with it. “Let’s go.”

I started to walk away, but Malcolm didn’t
move. The tray was in his hand.

“Well?” I asked. “Slide it up your shirt for
protection.”

“Er, right.”

I straightened my back and tucked my hair
behind my ears. “As your official Spy Games mentor, I’m responsible
for your safety. Now it’s time to get started.”

Malcolm grabbed his backpack. “I’m ready for
anything, boss.”

Our eyes locked, and I tried to see past his
charcoal ones and find the truth. Did he kinda like me? Or was this
some big game to him? And why was I even thinking about that when
my best friend was missing?

Then I whispered, “There’s one exception to
the rule.”

“And what’s that?”

“Always listen to your gut.”

My gut still didn’t have a read on Malcolm’s
feelings for me, but it was definitely telling me that Aimee didn’t
leave on a fun holiday to Eastern Europe.

I shook it off, stepped back, and grabbed my
bag filled with spy gadgets. “Let’s go.”

Malcolm whispered in my ear. “Does some
super-secret evil villain live here?”

I elbowed him in the gut. “Somehow rose
trellises and flower boxes don’t say evil to me.” I loved the
old-time feel of Aimee’s family’s cottage, the paint chipping off
the sides and the old stone chimney and crumbling walkway. I was a
bit jealous of the stability of living in the same place for so
long.

“I’m trying to figure out how this is
training,” Malcolm complained.

I approached the door, trying to ignore the
guilt of not following Dad’s instructions, but then I remembered
how he blew off my conspiracy theory on Aimee. Someone had to find
her.

Over my shoulder, I said, “You’re shadowing
me, following the lifestyle of a Spy Games staffer. Deal.”

Before I could knock, a shrill voice yelled
at us in French. Aimee’s grandmother, Marie, stormed across the
neighbor’s tiny yard.

“What is she saying?” I whispered.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “She’s basically
telling us to scram. Who is she?”

I looked at Marie and stared back at the
cottage in front of me. “I’ve got the right place.”

Malcolm muttered, “She’s on the attack.”

Marie stopped in front of us. Her wispy white
hair was held up by bobby pins and she wore a faded, flowered smock
that looked like a relic. She scolded us. In French.

“Marie?” I coughed and spoke louder. “It’s
Savvy. Aimee’s friend?”

A look of understanding and a bit of
apprehension crossed her face. She switched to English and pasted
on a smile.

“What was I thinking? I did not recognize
you. It has been far too long.” She held out her arms and gathered
me into a hug and kissed both my cheeks. “
Bonjour
, Aimee’s
young friend.”

That was what I loved about Aimee and her
grand-mere
. They both spoke English. In fact, that was
probably why Aimee and I were friends—because she could talk to
me.

“I keep asking Aimee when you are going to
visit again.” She released me and noticed Malcolm. “And who is
this? A special man in your life?” She kissed both his cheeks.
“Marie.”

“Malcolm.” He didn’t hesitate for a second
when Marie enveloped him in a hug too.

She opened the door and entered the cottage
with a wave of her hand. “I was visiting next door. You must come
inside for some tea. A bit of young love is just what I need.”

“Yeah, about that.” If I didn’t straighten
out the story, she’d have us married before we left.

Malcolm put his arm around me and squeezed.
“I was lucky to find such a gem.” He leaned over and planted one on
me.

He slowly let me go, and I had trouble
finding my breath. I didn’t know whether to belt him one or throw
him to the ground and kiss him back.

Marie clapped. “How wonderful. It is your
lucky day. I made gingerbread cookies and the kettle is on. I keep
telling Aimee she needs to find a good man and settle down. Maybe
you can talk sense to her.”

We followed Marie into a tiny sitting room
off the kitchen. Herbs growing in pots on a windowsill scented the
air, and a giant fern filled most of the room. Tiny chairs
surrounded an equally tiny glass table the size of a
checkerboard.

“Looks great,” I said. “I like the new
furniture.”

“
Merci
. Take a seat and help yourself.
I will be right back.”

As soon as she left, I kicked Malcolm in the
shins. “What were you thinking?”

He rubbed his shin. “I couldn’t disappoint an
old woman. She probably lost her husband in a war long ago. Would
it kill you to make her day?”

“Unfortunately,” I said while giving him my
darkest look, “we aren’t exactly coming with the happiest of
news.”

He reached for a cookie. “All the better to
brighten her day with our
young love
.”

“Fine, but let me steer this conversation.
Consider this part of your training in role playing and how to
question a subject.”

Marie cut our conversation short when she
entered with a kettle and poured us tea. Her hand shook, and I
worried she would drop it.

Malcolm stood. “Let me do that for you.”

Marie smiled and crinkled her face up with
tiny lines. She winked at me. “And a gentleman, too.”

I distracted myself with a tiny thread
unraveling from the cloth napkin. The more I got to know Malcolm,
the more I liked him.

When the tea was poured, and the cream and
sugar added, Marie settled into her chair. “To what do I owe the
pleasure of your visit?”