Silently, he pulled a stool beside his chair—the forgotten one pressed against the wall.
His chair was something else entirely—low, sculpted, built to cradle a man who spent more time in his mind than in the room. It moved when he did, fluid and silent.
She had the absurd thought that it might know him.
“You can hand me the tools,” he gestured toward the organized chaos of his workbench. “Please try not to short-circuit anything.”
Relief and something warmer flooded through her. “No promises,” she said, grinning as she sank onto the stool.
She adjusted the height, spinning the seat until she was level with the desk, the leather cool through her slacks. This close, she could smell his cologne—citrus and cedar, and something else—mixed with coffee and that indefinable electronics odor that seemed to cling to everything in this room.
“Phillips head screwdriver,” David pointed to a drawer. “Second from the top.”
Lena pulled open the drawer, marveling at the obsessive organization inside. Every tool had its place, labeled and sorted by size. “You know,” she selected the proper screwdriver and passed it to him, “most people throw their tools in a box and hope for the best.”
“Most people aren’t trying to maintain a multi-million dollar technology infrastructure with a ninja cat actively working against them.” His lips quirked as he accepted the screwdriver, and their fingers brushed.
The contact was brief—barely a second—but sparked like static electricity, warm and startling.
David’s hand stilled for a fraction of a moment before he turned back to his work, but she saw the tautness in his shoulders, the way his breathing changed. He’d felt it too.
They worked in companionable silence, and Lena relaxed into the rhythm of it. He’d ask for a tool, she’d hand it to him. Sometimes he’d explain what he was doing—“This cable routes the backup power through a redundant system”—and sometimes he’d say nothing, his focus absolute and beautiful to watch.
Their knees bumped occasionally beneath the desk as one or the other shifted position. The first time it happened, Lena pulled away, murmured an apology. But David didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge it as anything requiring distance, so she stayed put.
The second time, his knee pressed hers for a beat longer than necessary before he reached for a component on the far side of the tower.
The third time, neither of them moved at all.
Lena’s heart hammered behind her ribs, her entire awareness narrowed to that point of contact—the solid warmth of his leg against hers through two layers of fabric. It was such a small thing, innocent even. Accidental.
Except it didn’t feel accidental anymore.
She sneaked a glimpse of his profile, illuminated by the cool glow of the monitors. His jaw was set in concentration, but there was something else too—a softness around his eyes, a slight curve to his mouth that hadn’t been there when she arrived.
He liked this, having her here. The thought sent warmth cascading through her veins, dangerous and thrilling.
“Cable tie,” David murmured, and Lena fumbled for the small plastic fastener, hyperaware of how her hand shook as she passed it over.
When their fingers touched this time, David’s hand closed around hers—just for a second, only long enough to register—before he took the cable tie and returned to his work.
Lena’s breath caught, her pulse thundering in her ears loud enough for him to hear in the quiet office.
Right now, guests slept. No alarms flashed. No one shouted her name.
“If this keeps up, this calm,” she said, “we might actually get ahead of it.”
David didn’t answer right away—but when he did, there was something careful in his voice.
“Let’s hope.”
She took that as agreement.
Outside the window, the Florida moon hung heavy and bright over the ocean, turning the waves into liquid silver. Inside, surrounded by the hum of electronics and the occasional contented sigh from Minx, something shifted between them.
Something inevitable.
Something that made Lena’s carefully constructed walls feel about as sturdy as a cloud. For the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to rebuild them.
