fishing for quarters down there, then I dare say you’re not.” I hear him slip on a T-shirt, then storm over in three huge strides.
“That machine came out of nowhere,” I tease, a blanket of nerves holding me tight.
“Are you sure nothing hurts?”
“Other than my pride? I’m fine. Promise.”
I’m still rummaging the floor for my glasses, so when Dr. Archibald stretches behind me and places them in my palm, I almost holler in delight.
Once he’s done examining me, he nods, appearing satisfied that I sustained no injuries. “What are you doing here?”
I gulp as I can’t exactly divulge I was spying. The thought has me remembering the way his strong body moved with forceful strokes. It also is a reminder that his burly body is inches away from me. His signature fragrance is even more refined, and I can’t help but take it all in.
Once I slip on my glasses, it’s almost impossible to ignore the way his tight T-shirt showcases his body. The neckline is cut low so I can see just a hint of dark hair sprinkled down his chest. He’s a lean, mean fighting machine.
I should stop with the visual devouring, but I can’t help myself. Focusing on the tattoo—although now covered—I admire not only the beauty of it but also the canvas beneath.
Standing, he offers me his hand, a lifeline I’m desperate to take. We’re standing chest to chest, and I suddenly feel so small, dwarfed by his huge frame. We stay unmoving, my hand still enfolded in his. His touch is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I feel charged. I feel alive. He opens his mouth, appearing to want to say something, but he changes his mind at the last minute. He drops my hand and turns his back, searching for his water bottle.
Once he’s well hydrated, I can see he’s hesitant to turn around to look at me. Why? He unravels the tape from his hands, taking his time, then rubs a towel through his dark hair, tousling it further.
“Will you take a drive with me?” he asks coolly as he turns, and I don’t hide my surprise.
“I want to show you something. I won’t bite. Promise,” he avows when I raise a suspicious brow.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll just have to trust me. Meet me in the parking lot after you’re done with your morning class?”
“Fine.”
He appears pleased that I didn’t refuse.
I have the afternoon free, so I suppose I can entertain him. And besides, whatever he wants to show me, I can’t shake the feeling it has the potential to change my life forever.
Dr. Archibald didn’t specify where exactly in the parking lot I was supposed to meet him, so I decide to take a seat on a tree stump, which provides a very comfortable waiting spot.
As I wait, my thoughts drift to June. It’s clear she runs Strawberry Fields with the utmost care, but I can’t help but wonder what transpired for her to start an organization such as this one. Her harrowing cries resonate loudly, unveiling something heart-rending hidden beneath the surface.
I don’t have time to think about it further because Dr. Archibald bounces down the steps looking casual in blue jeans and a gray crew neck T-shirt. Black sunglasses sit fashionably on his face. I stand, rubbing my sweaty palms on my shorts.
What does he want to show me?
“I didn’t know if you’d be here or hitchhiking down the road.” I smile, fond of his dry humor. He comes to a stop a few feet away, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re wearing that?”
I peer down at my jean shorts and “Wear pink, not mink” tank, raising a brow. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code,” I reply, a touch offended.
Dr. Archibald has the audacity to laugh. He offers no explanation to his random question but instead turns and heads for a cluster of cars over to the left. I presume I’m to follow.
I feel self-conscious as I didn’t realize wherever he’s taking me requires me to dress up. Is he embarrassed to be seen with me? If so, why bother asking me to accompany him in the first place?
My head begins to throb, and this time, it’s not from the usual headaches, but rather me overthinking this entire thing. Just as I’m about to turn back around, Dr. Archibald comes to a stop. He fishes into his back pocket and produces a set of keys.
My eyes widen, and I point at the vehicle he stands