“Yeah, sure. Close the door.”
He did as he was told. And then they were alone. He prayed that it wasn’t his presence that had upset her last night.
Ash didn’t bring that up. He wouldn’t ignore it, but it wasn’t a good conversational opener.
“She looked a little young.” He wandered toward her desk.
“For what?” She gestured for him to sit, then circled around and sat on the edge of her desk.
Ash tensed. The last time she’d been on the edge of her desk, bad things had happened. He said the first thing that came to mind. “To be in a bar?”
“You’re not wrong,” she said cryptically. She reached for his drink and he was so surprised, he relinquished it automatically.
Raising it to her lips, she drained the rest of it. “Thanks.” She set the empty glass on her desk. “She’s my current problem.”
Yep, nothing mysterious about that. “Anything I can help with?”
She blinked at him, surprise written on her face.
“I have some experience with teenage girls,” he felt compelled to add. Then realizing how that sounded, he scrambled to not sound like a creeper. “My sister, Hope, she was a handful.” God, he was an idiot.
Taryn laughed. “I have experiencebeinga teenage girl, but not dealing with them.”
“Well, let me know.” What was he doing? He wasn’t a helper. All his life, every decision he’d made had been to benefit him or Hope.
And yet, he was completely sincere. If Taryn needed help, he wanted to be there for her.
“Thanks. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, let me know when you do.”
She smiled again, and it warmed him all the way to his toes.
Pulling her feet up, she sat cross-legged on the edge of her desk.
He took a moment to study her. Her black pants hugged her legs and her tank top showed off her arms. One arm was sleekly muscled and the other was crafted from sleek metal. The prosthetic was a beautiful piece of technology, sculpted like an arm, not metal bones like a skeleton.
He’d seen her in action, so he knew that the limb offered her exquisite motor control and bruising strength.
“Yes, I have a mechanical arm.” Her easy posture had disappeared and her stiff tone brought his gaze to hers.
“What?”
“You were staring at my arm.” Her tone was cold—pure Jack—but he swore it carried a thread of vulnerability.
“It’s gorgeous.” Ash never dropped his gaze from hers. “I hadn’t seen it up close.” He’d felt it, of course, felt the care with which she’d used it last night. But hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it.
“It’s metal and wire.” The tension in her voice had lessened but hadn’t completely disappeared.
“It’s metal and wire turned into art. It’s stunning. May I?” He should have touched her arm last night. Let her know that he didn’t see it as a flaw, but as an essential, beautiful part of her.
Suspicion still filled her eyes, but she nodded.
He stood in front of her—a safe distance away—before she could change her mind. Moving slowly to not spook her, he reached out and gently slid the strap of her tank top higher up on her shoulder, revealing the seam between cyberwork and biology.
It wasn’t the neatest work he’d seen, but it hadn’t been done by a hack either. “Full replacement?”
Taryn nodded. “The shoulder socket was intact. Metal bracers along my collarbone help stabilize the merge.”
