10. Heart Rates Don’t Lie
10
HEART RATES DON’T LIE
brOOKS
I loved the air of a new building, smelling of fresh paint, tile floors, and, in my case, with Maisy, a world of possibilities. Or maybe I took her ideas of scent affecting moods a little too much to heart when I arrived at Orion today.
Good things were coming my way, and by good things, I meant Maisy. All mine. Soon. Meanwhile, patience and strategy became my new best friends.
We were deep into week two of her project. My crew had walls up, awaiting mud and paint. The space had finally begun to resemble something closer to her vision than just a construction site.
I met her here after hours tonight by design—only the two of us in the space, just the way I liked it. She wrestled with decisions on soft amber lights, flickering on for the first time as the motion sensor registered movement. I studied her while she jotted a few more notes on the clipboard that seemed attached to her body.
With a tilt of my head, I asked, “Tell me—what exactly are you hoping to measure with all of this? Mood? Brain activity? Or which lightbulbs make us cry less mid-winter?”
She laughed softly, standing and brushing her hands against her thighs. “A little of everything. The goal is to monitor the effects of environmental stimuli in real time on the body. Think: heart rate variability, cortisol levels, skin response. This kind of sensory environment could reduce stress reactivity in patients, improve outcomes for neurodiverse individuals, and maybe even enhance memory retention during recovery.”
I let out a low whistle. “All that from some pretty lighting and acoustic panels?”
She arched a brow. “Don’t underestimate the brain’s love language, Brooks. Sometimes the simplest changes in atmosphere can yield the most profound neurological results.”
“Like you being in the room,” I muttered, and her smile curved wider.
“Me?” She gave me a sly smile. “Guess that depends on who else is in the room with me.”
I tucked that one away, already calculating how I could translate it all to her real life. Flowers were a start—something pretty, fragrant, alive in calming color palettes like lavender, pale blue, and cream—but maybe I could do more. Curate calm the way she designed it. Replace the pressure with brief moments of peace. She wouldn’t even know I was doing it. She’d only feel better somehow.
I reached across in front of her to fix a dangling cord on the light display. When I finished, I caught her eyes skimming down my backside. She couldn’t fool me. I smiled to myself.
Her desire for me returned, like a pulse under the skin. Talk about a bodily reaction to stimuli in the environment. Even dressed down in jeans and boots today, with a soft henley rolled to the elbows, still a little dusty from checking in with the construction crew earlier in the main wing, I must appeal to her. Not my usual polished look, but Maisy didn’t seem to mind.
If anything, her gaze had lingered. That wasn’t my imagination. I was growing on her.
With her laptop propped open and crouched by one of the built-in recessed light strips, she got back to work, scribbling measurements on a clipboard and muttering under her breath.
“You know,” I said, leaning against the wall, and observing. “For someone so brilliant, your handwriting is completely illegible.”
She looked up, a playful smirk forming. “That’s neuroscience font. Only certified brainiacs can read it.”
“I think you’re just trying to keep me from stealing your secrets.”I laughed, surprised. Every interaction with her became easier, familiar—like the banter we’d always fallen into. But underneath it, something had shifted during our side-by-side work, the way we started finishing each other’s thoughts on materials or layouts.
This wasn’t only about professional chemistry.
“I’m curious, Brooks. You’ve been on the project with me for almost two weeks now. It’s more than a proposal on paper; it’s taking shape. Do you believe in what I’m doing? Do you wonder if it’s even possible to design a world of calm?”
I lifted a brow. “Calm like… your room here and people walk through it and instantly feel less stress?”
“Yes. A place that physiologically lowers your stress—just by passing through it.”
“And you can actually measure the decrease in stress?”
“Heart beats don’t lie, Brooks.”
I peered around, admiring the glow of the lights, and the mood board with the tranquil textures she’d chosen to finish the room. But I could think of only one time, one place, where I felt the overwhelming sense of calm she was after.
“Honestly? What you’re doing reminds me of that spring break. You know—that week we spent together with Rex and Chelsea, on the yacht, and on the island. I’ll never forget how you and I skinny dipped in the ocean under the moonlight.” I paused, my voice dipping. “I think about that week all the time, and it definitely does something to my mood.”
Maisy’s breath caught. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and—hell yes—her nipples tightened under the thin fabric of her blouse.
My gaze flicked there, lingered, then returned to her eyes. “Do you ever think about that trip?”
She cleared her throat. Her fingers fidgeted against the clipboard. “Sometimes.”
I stepped a little closer, and when I touched her arm, goosebumps rose like a silent answer, but she didn’t pull away.
Her mouth opened slightly, as if she might say something more, and her hand reached out to my side, her fingertips playing along the soft cotton of the henley —
Then the door creaked.
We both turned as Dr. Julian Thorne stepped inside the room, briefcase in hand and suspicion written across his face.
His eyes flicked to me, then to her flushed cheeks. “I didn’t expect you’d still be here, Maisy. It’s getting late.”
She smoothed her hair and quickly stepped toward her laptop. “Just finishing up the measurements. I lost track of time.”
His gaze cut to me again. “Bellamy.”
“Thorne,” I returned evenly, no love lost between us. But I tried not to think about that one night in Cambridge when we’d all randomly met up. Fate could be cruel sometimes. After Maisy had extended her time on the ship, I accepted the offer to teach at the renowned university. I had to get away and try to forget about her, and London seemed about as far away as I could get from the situation.
Only with my luck, for one night, the ship docked in London for repairs. And these two crashed right into my path. It wasn’t one of my more shining moments, addressing him with her.
“I was just about to see if you wanted to grab a late dinner. But if you’re still working...” Julian’s invitation addressed her directly, bringing me back to the present. I growled my displeasure.
She shook her head quickly. “Actually, I’m heading to Holly Creek early tomorrow. Richard and Vivian had their baby, and I want to see them this weekend. So tonight is not a good time.”
He nodded, though something in his jaw ticked. “Of course. Family is important.”
Maisy crouched to unplug a cord. Julian’s eyes landed on one of the design overlays on her laptop.
“I think you should adjust the acoustic paneling layout,” he said. “You’re giving too much priority to aesthetic flow over function. That might impress donors, but it could impact your research results.”
Before Maisy could respond, he glanced at me. “Then again, I’m sure the Bellamy firm prioritizes looks over science in most projects.”
I scoffed and let that one hang in the air. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her job here, but what a douche he was. That she had to work with him was something I couldn’t stand. If things worked out between us, I’d do whatever it took to help her find a better job where she wouldn’t have him around.
Maisy, however, straightened and fixed him with a sharp look. “Actually, Brooks has been nothing but respectful of the science. We’ve been collaborating just fine.”
“Glad to hear it.” Julian gave a tight smile. “Well. I’ll let you get back to it. Have a safe trip tomorrow.”
He left without another word. The silence after he left weighed heavier than his presence.
“What a condescending prick? Was he always like that with you? How could you stand months of that at sea?” I complained.
Maisy rubbed the back of her neck and rolled her head. “He was different, at first.”
I crossed my arms. “You mean before you became a threat?”
She shot me a questioning look. “I’m not a threat.”
“You are,” I said gently, assessing the situation given things she’s told me about Julian in the past. “In all the best ways. You’re smarter than he probably ever expected. More ambitious than he thought you had the right to be. Definitely more beautiful. And now you’re doing something he didn’t see coming without his permission.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, telling me I read the situation accurately. “He always said he wanted to protect me. But now it feels like he wanted to control me.”
I stepped closer again. “You don’t owe him anything.”
Her breath shivered out. “Sometimes it feels like I do. I wouldn’t be here if not for him.”
“No. You’re here because of you.”
She tilted her head back, eyes gleaming. “You always say things like that. With so much certainty.”
“Because I know you. I know how hard you’ve worked to be here. How much you want to be taken seriously? Most of all, I know what— and who —you gave up in order to pursue your work.” I kept the smirk to myself. “This field still makes women prove themselves twice over. You’re doing it without compromise. I admire the hell out of you for that.”
Her voice cracked. “It gets tiring at times, proving myself.”
“Stressful, too, I’ll bet? You need a room of your own, like the one you’re building here.” An idea formed in my head.
“Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Then stop proving. Start owning it. You’re Maisy-fucking-Calhoun. Let the world hear you roar, baby. And soon, everything you desire will be yours.”
“So, you’re an architect and a life coach now?” She snickered and teased.
“Only for you.”
Good thing she couldn’t read my mind and see all the plans I drew up for her life. The ultimate blueprints for her happiness. And if I could make her happy someday, that’d be all I’d need.
Later that night, Archer flung open my office door without knocking, balancing two tumblers of scotch and his usual air of self-importance.
“You look like a man who either just got laid or is about to,” he said, handing me a glass.
“As every day passes, it’s within the realm of possibility,” I muttered, but took the drink.
He collapsed in the chair across from my desk. “So, what’s going on with Maisy?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you ask about my love life?”
“Since it’s interfering with your concentration and making Lacey whisper in corners about how you’ve gone soft.”
I sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s Maisy. It’s always been complicated.”
“And Lacey can mind her own business.” I stared down into the amber swirl of my drink. “It’s different this time with Maisy.”
“Different good, or different like ‘Brooks is about to make a colossally shitty mistake and I’ll have to hire someone to clean up the mess he leaves behind’ kind of different?”
“Good,” I said. “A challenge, but good.”
Archer lifted his glass in a mock salute. “Just don’t screw it up. Again. ”
“I don’t plan to.” My phone buzzed on the desk. Richard Buchanan’s name popped up.
“How’s it going? Are you a dad yet?” I answered and put him on speaker.
“Yes, I am. Twice blessed. First, my darling daughter Paris, of course, made me a dad.” I’d never heard Richard’s voice sound so happy before. “And this morning, Vivian delivered our baby girl, Isabella. Mom and baby are doing well, resting overnight at the Albany Hospital. They’ll be back home tomorrow.”
“It’s Archer here. That’s great news, Richard. Congratulations.” He saluted with his drink and knocked it back.
“Ditto. We’ll have to come up and visit soon and see the baby,” I said. Somewhat jealous of what the Buchanan brothers had achieved, while Archer and I were still muddling our way through our love lives. I believe our father cursed us with the way he screwed over our mother in their divorce and how he fucked around the rest of his life.
“Why not for the weekend? Hope I’m not calling too late. Wanted to run something by you two. I’m thinking about expanding the house—” he started.
I shared a look with my twin and arched a brow. “Uh, your brand new enormous home that we designed and that you just finished building all ready needs expansion?”
“Yes. What can I say? Family life has changed me. I’m done traveling back and forth to the city. I’m becoming a Holly Creek resident now, and who knows? May even run for mayor.”
“A Buchanan with political aspirations? God help us all,” Archer quipped.
“Funny. Listen, I’d love you for you both to come up to Holly Creek this weekend and talk through the changes I want made. I want plans and the construction started as soon as possible.”
“Sure, we can make that happen.” I jumped at the chance, knowing Maisy was heading to Holly Creek, too.
Funny how the universe had a way of syncing things up when you least expected it.