Page 9 of Love Below Zero

9

BLOWN AWAY

BECKY

We’re called inside a short while later, and the rest of the evening is spent in interviews and easy conversation with the rest of the team. Jojo was right, the cookies did help. Still, there is an undercurrent of tension, and the source is easy to find.

James Reid.

I feel his green eyes following me around the room the whole night, and it’s starting to drive me insane. Every time I talk to a journalist he hovers nearby like some creepy helicopter parent. He certainly doesn’t keep such a close eye on the rest of the team, that’s for sure.

I must have gone to the bathroom a dozen times to check if my teeth were clean. Maybe I had something on my face and he couldn’t find the right moment to tell me. Had I accidentally put my shirt on inside out? Had I ripped my slacks? People must think I have a pea-sized bladder with all the bathroom breaks I’m taking.

“What’s his deal?” I ask Eli in between interviews. He had wandered over to give me another bottle of water, and I appreciated how observant he was. He never offered me something I would have to decline, and he always had an easy smile to give. He’s handsome, of course. Okay, maybe handsome is an understatement. Carved by the gods seems more appropriate. His green eyes, a different shade to James’, are warm and welcoming, yet deep as an ocean.

“Who?” he asks, looking around us. Finally he spots James, who’s standing just far enough away to be out of earshot. He is clearly watching us though. He meets my eyes briefly before turning away. “Oh, him. He’s always been like that.”

“Stalkerish?”

Eli chuckles. “Some people would say uptight, I might even say cautious, but the truth is that he’s insanely driven. Singularly focused. It often blinds him.”

I chew on that for a bit. I called him a stick in the mud myself not too long ago, but I never thought of looking at it that way. I thought he was just being a science snob, hell-bent on keeping us mere mortals out of the space.

“Okay, but why is he singularly focused on me?”

“You scare him,” Eli says simply.

I blink at him. “What?”

“You scare him. You’re outside of the field of things he can control. He likes order. You are chaos,” he says matter of factly, like this is the most logical explanation in the world. Eli sees my stunned look and grins. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Apparently,” I laugh, taking a sip of water. My throat is suddenly dry as a desert. The thought of James wanting to control me sends a shiver up my spine, and I’m not sure if it’s because I like or hate it.

“People are a lot like rocks,” Eli starts and I roll my eyes .

“Here we go.” The last time he started talking about rocks I had to listen to him discuss the soil composition of Mars. A fascinating topic, but not one I wanted to listen to for two whole hours.

He glares at me before continuing. “A little rough on the outside, but once you break them open, all their secrets come tumbling out.”

“And you know James’ secrets?”

“I know more about him than he does, but only because he can be oblivious to the small things.”

“I’ve noticed,” I grumble. My eyes wander back over to James. He’s listening to Jojo as she animatedly explains something, accidentally sloshing some of her drink onto him. I watch the exchange with all the fascination of a wildlife photographer capturing two rare animals on camera.

He smiles stiffly, probably assuring Jojo that it’s no problem, while she plasters napkins to his shirt like she’s trying to mummify him. Eventually he catches her wrist, speaking lowly. She nods, putting down napkins, and he steps away, probably to clean himself off.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” I tell Eli before following James.

“Good luck,” he calls after me, and I can hear the mischief in his voice. I’ll unpack that later.

I follow James, not to the bathroom as I expected, but to a large alcove outside the hotel. He wipes at his shirt with the remaining napkins before tossing them into a nearby trash can and slumping against the wall. The wind whips at his hair, and he looks tired.

He notices me then and immediately straightens up. Well, it’s now or never, I guess .

I walk over, coming to a stop in front of him. “You were watching me, the whole night. Why?”

He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. “I was making sure the interviews went smoothly.”

Singularly focused my ass. He was making sure I didn’t screw up. He doesn’t trust me to do this job, to make this mission a success.

“It’s because I’m not a scientist, right?”

“What?” He looks stunned, like he didn’t expect that. It makes perfect sense to me. I’m just a lowly author, not some fancy pants scientist, so he has to pay special attention to me to make sure I don’t fuck up this all-important experiment.

“You were watching me because I’m not a scientist. You don’t trust me to do my job, so you’re micromanaging.”

“Rebecca,” he sighs, clearly exasperated. “I’m not micromanaging you. Did I give you a single instruction tonight?”

The wind whips around us again and I immediately regret the short hair. It’s just above shoulder length, so I can’t tie it up easily without a million strands escaping. I attempt to keep it down with my hands, which probably only adds to his low opinion of me.

“No, but that’s not the point. You kept hovering, like you were ready to swoop in when I inevitably made a mistake.”

“That’s my job,” he points out, shoving his hands into his pockets. “As the second in command, I need to ensure everything runs smoothly.”

“By looming over me like a vulture?” I’m yelling now to be heard over the wind, but also because yelling at him feels like the right thing to do.

“I wasn’t looming, I was observing. ”

He really doesn’t see it does he.

A small laugh bubbles in my throat. I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that we’ve moved closer. I can see the golden flecks in his eyes, reflected there by the soft outside lights. “You are missing the point.”

“Enlighten me then.” He takes another step toward me and I have to stop myself from taking a step back.

“You don’t trust me to do my job. Me specifically. You didn’t loom over the others.”

“I don’t loom,” he scoffs, his breath washing over my face. Why are we so close? “I’m not Lurch.”

The reference catches me off guard, and I smile despite myself. No, bad Becky. You cannot think he’s charming.

“And yet here we are.” I gesture between us. “Why are you so hell-bent on undermining me? Is it because I’m not a scientist? Contrary to your beliefs, I do have a science background. I’m not a total idiot. Just because you had some choice things to say about my writing does not mean you can keep shitting on me as a person. I’m tired of it,” I snap.

He looks ... confused for a moment. As if he never even considered it, but surely that was what he was doing? I’m the one he doesn’t trust. I’m the one he called stupid, more or less.

Here’s the thing about Cape Town. The wind is wild, but what makes it even worse is the layout of the inner city. The tall skyscrapers create something similar to a wind tunnel. People are frequently blown off their feet, grabbing on to Stop signs for dear life. I knew this fact like every South African did, and yet it didn’t fully register for me until it was happening.

The wind howls through the buildings and I trip over my own feet in an effort to stay upright, stumbling right into James.

“Shit,” I hear him curse, his arms automatically wrapping around me. But the fun doesn’t stop there. The wind continues blowing a gale, and he loses his footing as well. We stumble back a few steps, a mess of arms and legs and hair, until mercifully my back hits the wall of the hotel building.

My mercy is short-lived.

James crashes into me, his long body pressed right up against mine. His one hand rests at my hip, the other behind my back. He tried to keep me from hitting the wall too hard, and I might be crushing his hand now. I arch off the wall slightly, my eyes widening. That was the wrong thing to do.

I would like to say that I wasn’t very aware of him, but that would be a lie.

I can feel every single part of him. Despite the freezing wind, my body is on fire. Like lightning struck a tree and it just exploded. He’s surprisingly defined for someone who stares at a computer all day. Not muscled, just lean. I definitely do not notice that he fits me perfectly. Slightly taller, his cheek pressing against mine. Our chests are perfectly aligned, our hips, our... other things.

Yes, I did just refer to his dick pressing against me as “other things.” Award-winning romance novelist over here, folks.

And now I’m thinking about his dick. He definitely looks like someone who’s well endowed. Maybe if I move just a little bit I can find out ...

His low groan in my ear snaps me right back into myself. I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that if I can feel every inch of him, he can feel every inch of me .

Immediately I start mentally cataloguing myself. I am president of the itty-bitty titty committee at this point. Losing so much weight cost me my boobs. Still, I’m not skinny by any means. He can probably feel my tummy, the hand on my hip can feel my jiggly flesh. Oh god, what must he think of me?

“Rebecca,” his voice is gruff, and I have never loved my own full name that much. “Are you alright?”

The wind calms down and I take a deep breath, putting my hands on his chest and gently pushing him away. I need the distance between us.

“Fine,” I squeak out. Heat floods my cheeks and I clear my throat. “Fine.” That sounds more normal. “I’m sorry about that.”

He’s watching me curiously, his own face flushed. His eyes trail down my body, and his scrutiny makes me want to jump out of my skin. My large, oversized body was just pressed up against this very conventionally attractive, if somewhat annoying, man, and now he’s looking at me with an unreadable expression.

Please don’t let him decide on disgust.

“I should get going. Big day tomorrow. Nice chat.” I push off from the wall, practically running past him.

“Rebecca, wait—” he calls after me, but I don’t stop. The thought of facing him, of possibly seeing disgust on his face, is too much. I’ve worked so hard to love my body, to nourish it and cherish it, but some thoughts stay with us, no matter how much we try.

I make it all the way to my room without crying, but as soon as the door closes I let the tears fall.