She turned her gaze to the work surface, eyes blinking, then refocused on the objects in front of her. A hum passed her lips, then her hands were moving again, filling soil into the pot, and adding a seed from the small container beside her.
He watched, mesmerized, as she repeated the action over again. And again. Her emotions calmed, and another feeling emerged inside him.
The lack of her eyes on him created a disconnect, a need. She did not lift her gaze to his as she worked on one pot, then another, only glancing at the game playing on the work surface from time to time. She filled shelves and rotated them upward until she tended the last of the rows. The pots she had started with sat in front of him on his side of the counter.
She gathered her bag of dirt and shuffled down to the next section. The game’s feed moved with her.
He followed too, but found the rows of pots distracting, a barrier he no longer wanted between them. He continued to walk all the way around the row of moving shelves, then toward her again.
Her emotions shot outward, then settled when he stopped beside her beverage. The deep brown color of the liquid contrasted with the pristine white of the cup.
As her emotions calmed, she raised her gaze to his. “Have I met you before?”
He considered her question. “No.” There had been no point in time when their paths had crossed before this.
Another emotion welled inside him, one that did not seem appropriate to the situation. Why would he feel… a loss at never having met her before?
She stared at him at length, her eyes expressing things he could not name, but her emotions rolled over him in appealing waves.
“You’re so human.” She shook her head. “But you’re also… not.”
She refocused on her work, and his gaze returned to the cup on the counter. The aroma rising from its surface was unfamiliar, both moist and bitter. He leaned forward and inhaled deeper, trying to decipher its contents.
“Do you want to try it?”
His eyes jumped back to her. She stared at him with an odd pinch to her lips and her eyes crinkling.
“Yes,” he replied, only realizing it was true after she had asked the question.
She jerked her chin forward. “Go on then.”
He assessed this new, lighter expression a moment longer before regarding the cup on the counter. Picking it up, the outside warmed his skin, and the wafting scent increased in strength as he lifted it closer to his face.
Her eyes burned into him as he took a sip. Bitter flavor exploded on his tongue, making him twitch. He had never tasted anything so pungent,and could not decide if he liked the flavor or loathed it. He took another sip.
The second taste did not inspire him to take another, so he set the cup back on its saucer.
When he turned toward her, she glanced away to refocus on her tasks. “I don’t usually eat breakfast. I should have asked if you wanted anything.”
He did not respond to her statement, uncertain if she waited for an answer. Silence descended between them. The longer it grew, the more fidgety she became, her emotions pulsing toward him in small bursts, until she returned to her task.
She finished her row of shelves and moved on to the one with larger pots, jade-colored stems punching through the soil and reaching toward the stormy sky above. The greenery reminded him of home, and his chest panged—another feeling he had not experienced before and did not know how to handle.
Her fingers lightly stroked the leaves, then pressed into the soil. She pulled out another silver cannister from beneath the counter, this one filled with packets. She tore one open, then sprinkled the contents around the slender stem before setting it back in its place on the shelf.
He enjoyed watching her like this, content in her world—no fear or distress overtaking her. Another novel sensation filled him the longer she relaxed in his company, a feeling that warmed his skin, his head, and his heart.
He had never thought much about his heart, except that it pumped blood through his system and beat with a regular rhythm. Now it sped up as hers had done, emotions tangling inside him in ways he did not understand and could not decipher. What was it about Doctor Wynn Lambdin that affected him?
Instinctively, his mind reached outwards, searching for answers from others around him, but there was no one, no connection to ease his disquiet. Why did his breaths speed up when he watched her tuck astrand of black hair behind her ear, leaving a smudge of dirt in the wake of her actions? Why did he have the urge to touch her, to brush his fingers against that smudge to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked?
His fingers twitched at his sides. He would not go against her wishes and touch her without permission, no matter how these desires swelled the longer he watched her.
She placed the next completed pot on the shelf, and retrieved another, the material of her clothing stretching over her curves.
None of the parameters of his mission included concessions for the scenario he now found himself in, this waiting period with no objective but to examine his charge and question his purpose. But he could not find it within himself to be disappointed that the weather delayed their return journey if it meant watching her perform the tasks that gave her joy.
And that was what it was, he realized, this new throbbing emotion from her that rolled over him in pleasant waves.Joy. Happiness. Peace.A state of being opposite to fear.
