Forbidden Bride - Penny Wylder Page 0,28

feels good to take her hand as we walk to my car. We’re going to figure this out and make it work.

7

Nicola

The door to my lab opens, and I swear that I can tell that it’s Tristan even before I turn around. And my guess is confirmed when hands wrap around my waist. We’re very careful when we’re at work, but he still manages to find small moments to express his feelings. It’s one of the things that I love about him.

It’s Friday again, and I’ve been dreading the weekend. Because on the weekend, it’s harder to hide. There’s no guarantee that I’ll see him like I do during the work week. And I’ve even been staying later than usual. Partially because this orange and basil flavor still isn’t fucking working, and partially because the experience of being fucked on a lab table is one that I really like.

I like it so much that I think it’s worth the thorough cleaning that I have to do when we’re finished.

“How are you?” he asks, mouth finding that elusive crease at my neck and shoulder that never fails to make me shiver.

“Frustrated,” I admit.

“What’s going on?” He lets me go and circles the lab table so that he’s across from me.

I sigh. “It’s just not working. It’s been a while since I’ve had this much trouble with a flavor, and I need to have something by the end of next week for that focus group. If it’s not finalized by then, I’ll probably have to scrap it.”

“Okay, so what’s not working?”

Shaking my head, I hold out the latest custard sample for him to try. “The balance isn’t right. I keep trying to get it so that the orange hits first and then the basil hits as a second wave. So that aromatic sensation is the aftertaste. But it’s not right.”

Tristan lifts the little cup to his lips, and I take the chance to admire his lips, and the way his throat moves as he swallows. I still can’t believe that we’re together and it’s real. But every day that goes by it feels more solid.

“Mm,” he says. “I see what you mean. The transition is a little harsh.”

“Yeah. I’ve tried every ratio that I can think of. Tweaking it down to the literal drop, and it’s still not working.”

He smiles. “I know that I’m not the flavor creator, but can I try something?”

“At this point I’m desperate,” I say. “So yes. Feel free.”

Tristan has spent enough time around me in the lab at this point that he knows where things are kept and the basic procedures. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he comes back around and looks at the latest formula in the computer. One of the best things about this lab is the flavor machine. It has extracts of almost every flavor imaginable, and if it doesn’t have it, we can get it.

It also has an interface where you can arrange the flavors, so it puts together the formula in a molecular pattern so that it hits the way you want it to. And then it will spit it out.

Sometimes I start with mixing flavors by hand while I’m in the initial experimentation phase. It’s fun to get my hands dirty a little bit, and it’s faster.

Tristan doesn’t make too many changes from what I can see, but when I try to look at what he’s doing he just smiles and slides his body so I can’t see the screen. I roll my eyes and grab a drink of water. I sit down at my desk to wait, and it doesn’t take long.

“There,” he declares. “I want to see how that tastes, but if it doesn’t work, I won’t be offended. It’s just an idea.”

“I’m sure it will be great.”

He leans back against the lab table. “Probably not, but at least it gives me an excuse to be in here with you.”

I smile, but I’m starting to feel the exhaustion that’s come with this week. Working on this—and some of the other experimental flavors I’m developing for our expansion—and staying late with Tristan is starting to wear. I wouldn’t take it back for the world, but I’m tired.

And it’s the fact that nobody knows that’s the problem. If people knew, I could just go home with Tristan and we wouldn’t have to work so hard to find time together. I’ve got to tell my dad soon. I have to. I think that he’ll understand. You can’t help what your heart