Page 10

Austin turns my way, his expression somewhere between eureka and irritation. That changes when his gaze lowers to where I’m bent over him. His eyes widen, and I stand up quickly, embarrassed by my unintentional flash job. My face is flush, and my skin feels tight as I adjust my shirt, though I like that he enjoyed the show.
Though part of me preens at the male approval, my damned logical brain scolds me at the thought. What are you thinking?
I don’t understand my visceral reaction to the older man. It’s irresponsible and dangerous, but I find resisting the pull impossible. Austin’s shocked expression has recovered and is now more molten. This does not bode well for my willpower.
Austin stands slowly, moving gracefully like a predator. His eyes are feral, as if he’s looking forward to me being his prey. Voice roughened by the desire pouring off him, he says, “The seals must be worn out. It’s safe to use. It won’t leak.”
“Thanks,” I answer breathlessly.
My hand goes to my throat, though I can’t explain why. I can breathe fine. Austin’s eyes follow the movement, and he swallows hard. His throat clicks, and he blurts out, “How old are you?”
Still, in that turned-on whisper, I answer, not shocked or bothered by the question. “I turned thirty last week.”
Austin’s shoulders fall, and the fire in his eyes extinguishes instantly. His reaction should provide some relief, but it makes me sad instead. I try not to sound hurt when I ask, “How old are you?”
“Forty-one.”
My initial reaction was wow. After a second’s thought, I realized the number doesn’t worry me. Conversely, the difference in our ages must bother Austin. He just shut down after finding out how much younger I am. All the sexy rumble was gone from his voice when he revealed his age to me.
Though my body would love to change his opinion, my mind concludes that his reluctance is probably for the best. Starting something with my sexy neighbor is a bad idea. My only safe option would be one-night stands, but the thought of casual sex has always repulsed me. I want love and stability. I want forever—all things I can’t have because of my mafia affiliation.
An awkward silence settles over us, quickly becoming uncomfortable, so I give us both an out. “Um, thanks for fixing the faucet.”
Austin’s eyes meet mine briefly. His are filled with disappointment or maybe regret. I guess I’ll never know.
“Sure. Well, I didn’t fix it, but you can use it. I can call the property manager to have it replaced.”
“Thanks.”
Austin reaches for the door but pauses before walking out. Just when I think he’s changed his mind, he tosses back over his shoulder, “See you around.”
I don’t see Austin or Piper again the rest of the day. It’s ridiculous, but I feel like I’ve lost a friend. And I’ve never had many of those. My unpacking continues at a snail’s pace, but I’m mostly finished by ten.
After sliding into bed, I stare at the ceiling for a while. I’m moping. I’ve been doing it since Austin walked out of my kitchen, which makes no sense. I met the man just fourteen hours… and twelve minutes ago. And he doesn’t want to be with someone as young as you.
I cover my face with my pillow, yelling my frustration into the stuffing. I should be relieved that Austin isn’t interested. This way, I won’t have to watch him walk away after learning that my father is part of a criminal organization. Yeah, I should be relieved, but I’m not.
Sleep claims me eventually, but I wake early. Since I don’t start work until Wednesday, I don’t have to get up yet, but I do it anyway. Like yesterday, I set up on the shared front deck with a cup of coffee and a book. I want to lie to myself about why I’m out here, but the truth is that I’m a glutton for punishment.
I start feeling extraordinarily stupid when eight o’clock rolls around without seeing my neighbor. I shouldn’t be sitting out here waiting for them. Maybe Austin and Piper don’t run every day. Perhaps they got called out for an emergency rescue. Maybe you shouldn’t be out here stalking your neighbor.
“Mierda.”
I slam my book closed, swoop up my empty cup, and go inside. The rest of the morning is spent unpacking and breaking down the rest of the boxes. After a simple lunch of soup and crackers, I check my emails and find some intake paperwork for my first meaningful job. Even though this isn’t where I hoped I’d be, I’ve worked hard to get here.
With the excitement over this next step in my life, all thoughts of packing and Austin evaporate at the anticipation of finally entering my field. I probably won’t be the miracle worker who finally cures cancer, but I hope to make a mark in the history of medicine. Even if I don’t, if at the end of my life, I know I’ve brought relief to one person through my work, I can die satisfied with my accomplishments.
I digitally sign the requested documents and accept the invitation to complete the onboarding process early. By two, I’m parking at the biomedical facility in Norfolk. I picked this company over the other three offers because they specialize in immunotherapies.
The way I see it, enough chemists are experimenting with new drugs. I want my focus to be on fighting disease using the brilliance of nature. Drugs will always be needed, but I plan to use natural things to help the human body heal itself instead of introducing toxic chemicals that could leave permanent damage.
It’s not enough to help a patient to survive cancer. What kind of life can one live if the treatment destroys one’s ability to enjoy that life? I want patients to defeat their diseases and look forward to a life worth living.
The facility coordinator sets me up with security to make my ID and gives me a tour of the lab, storage area, library, and offices. I don’t imagine I’ll spend a lot of time in the corner office, but it’s nice to have a base anyway.
Meeting the rest of the team goes well. The head of the research team is someone I’ve referenced in my studies. The administrative staff is friendly, and the facilities are tastefully designed without looking like most funding goes toward decorating.
By the end of the tour, I’m ready to stow my things and get started. Dr. Edwards, my boss, laughs at my enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, Wednesday will be here soon enough. You’re welcome to come in tomorrow to set up your office if you like.”