Chapter 6
6
AMELIA
T he next morning, I followed the signs directing me to The Lab.
I realized when Clair had been talking about the lab, it should have been capitalized in my head.
The Lab was huge and was certainly worthy of being a proper noun.
I wasn’t sure if Jared was serious when he said he was going to give me the tour.
I doubted it, in fact.
He had a million things to do.
Guiding me around seemed like a task best completed by an assistant, not the guy at the top.
Obviously, I would prefer to explore on my own but I suspected some areas were probably off-limits.
This place was on the cutting edge of science.
It made sense there would be some proprietary information.
I wasn’t ready to have my own research made public just yet either.
The sprawling complex of glass and steel looked more like a luxury resort than a scientific facility.
The sun glinted off the windows as I approached.
I couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.
This was it. My dream job.
My dream life . And yet, as I walked through the automatic doors and into the sleek, air-conditioned lobby, I couldn’t shake the nerves buzzing in my chest.
That little voice in the back of my head was telling me I wasn’t good enough.
Smart enough. The people that worked here were brilliant.
Their names would be in history books.
The Welch Foundation was already responsible for so many major advances.
I wanted to keep up.
I didn’t care if my name was in a history book or medical journals, but I wanted my research to matter to someone.
I scanned the lobby.
Like the condo, the place felt like a starship.
The expansive space was squeaky clean and gleaming white floors reflected the soft, ambient lighting that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
It wasn’t a harsh glaring light that gave a person a headache.
It was just bright in a comfortable way.
To my left, a massive digital wall displayed a constantly shifting array of data: stock prices, weather patterns, and what looked like real-time brain scans.
The images were mesmerizing.
I had no idea if it was just art or part of a study taking place in the lab.
I knew what I was looking at and I could have stood there all day studying the scans.
Maybe they were a test of some sort?
Like you couldn’t advance if you couldn’t identify the tumor or the aneurysm on the verge of rupturing.
But the star of the lobby was the atrium.
A towering structure of glass and metal rose up through the center of the building, housing what appeared to be a giant artificial neural network.
Lights pulsed along its pathways, mimicking the firing of synapses in a human brain.
It was breathtaking, a physical representation of the very thing we were here to study.
“Miss Pritchard.”
I turned to see Jared strolling toward me.
“You know very well it’s Dr. Pritchard, but feel free to call me Amelia.”
He flashed that cocky grin once again.
He looked good. Too good.
His dark blond hair was perfectly tousled, and he was wearing a fitted button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his corded forearms.
He smelled amazing too, like cedar and something faintly citrusy.
It was distracting, and I hated how much I noticed it.
The man was ridiculously tall.
I noticed it at the awards dinner, but somehow, he looked taller today.
I wondered if his hair was typically brown, but the Florida sun bleached it out.
Given the even tan he was sporting, I imagined he spent a lot of time on the beach when he wasn’t in surgery.
“Morning to you too,” he said.
“Ready for the grand tour?”
“Lead the way,” I replied, trying to sound casual while doing my best not to get lost in the stunning gray eyes framed by thick black lashes.
He gestured for me to follow him, and we started walking down the hallway.
Everywhere I looked, there were researchers in lab coats bustling about.
“So, how’d you sleep? Still jetlagged?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“But I’ll survive. I’m ready to get to work.”
“Good,” he said, glancing at me.
“Because I’ve got big plans for you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? Should I be worried?”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“Nah. Just impressed. This place tends to weed out the weak. The healthy competition keeps people working harder. Smarter. I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a challenge, but I decided to take it as both.
“We’ll see,” I said, matching his tone.
“I’m not easily impressed.”
“Noted,” he said, grinning.
“But I think I can change your mind.”
We continued the tour, and I was struck by how different Jared seemed compared to the man I’d met at the awards ceremony.
He was still confident—borderline arrogant—but there was a laid-back, almost playful side to him that I hadn’t expected.
Maybe he wasn’t as tightly wound once he was back at home base, away from the crowds.
He cracked jokes as he showed me the state-of-the-art equipment.
He seemed genuinely excited to explain how everything worked.
It was disarming. And confusing.
The man I’d idolized from afar was nothing like the man standing next to me now.
He was still a genius, sure, but he was also witty, charming, and surprisingly down to earth.
I had a feeling he used all that charm to woo a lot of ladies.
I was dangerously close to falling under his spell.
But I wouldn’t. I was here to learn and grow.
I didn’t need to get googly-eyed over a man.
At one point, we passed a group of research assistants who giggled and openly flirted with their eyes at Jared as we walked by.
I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself.
“Why did you choose neurosurgery, anyway?” I asked, glancing at him.
“With your charm and good looks, you could’ve gone into cosmetic surgery. Made a fortune smoothing out wrinkles and inflating egos. Be one of those plastic surgeons that works on the rich and famous.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made my stomach do a weird little flip.
“Neurosurgery chose me,” he said, his tone mock serious.
“I wanted to know why my brain was so much better than everyone else’s.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re so modest.”
“Modesty’s overrated. Confidence gets results. Besides, you’re one to talk. I read your thesis. You didn’t exactly tiptoe around your findings.”
I felt a flicker of pride but kept my expression neutral.
“When you’re right, you’re right. No point sugarcoating it.”
“Exactly,” he said, pointing at me like I’d just proven his point.
“See? We’re already on the same page. That’s why I knew you’d fit in here.”
“Or maybe you just recognized another ego that could rival yours,” I shot back, unable to resist.
We continued down the hall, passing what looked like a break room filled with researchers sipping coffee and chatting.
Jared gestured toward it as we walked by.
“That’s the unofficial brainstorming hub,” he said.
“Some of our best ideas come when people are just shooting the breeze.”
The more I listened to him, the more I felt drawn to him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he had formulated that scent he was wearing to increase arousal in women, like it was filled with pheromones.
Seriously, no one could smell that good by accident.
And the way he talked—confident but not cocky, like he actually meant every word.
Ugh, it was unfair. My brain knew better, but my body?
Yeah, it was definitely not on the same page.
But I reminded myself that this was Jared Welch—a man with a reputation as big as his ego.
He was a player, through and through, and I wasn’t about to let myself get caught up in whatever game he was playing.
Still, as we walked, I couldn’t ignore the tension between us.
The way he leaned in slightly when he spoke, the way his eyes lingered on me a little too long.
It was subtle, but it was there.
It wasn’t workplace harassment—more like a healthy admiration.
And as much as I hated to admit it, I felt it too.
“This way,” he said.
“I’ll show you your lab.”
I was expecting a cramped space like the labs I had worked in before.
I didn’t mind small workspaces.
They were just as effective.
But when Jared opened the door, I froze.
The space was massive, filled with cutting-edge equipment and bathed in natural light from the tinted windows that gave me an amazing view of the ocean.
There were workstations, a fully stocked supply closet, and even a small sitting area with a coffee machine.
“How many researchers do I share the space with?” I asked.
“None, this is your lab,” Jared said, his voice casual, like he hadn’t just handed me the keys to my own personal kingdom.
“You’ve got a list of assistants to choose from, but I already have a few people begging to work with you. Apparently, your research has quite the fan club.”
I was too stunned to respond.
I walked further into the lab, running my hand over the countertops and taking in every detail.
This was more than I’d ever dreamed of.
Back in England, I’d been lucky to have a corner of a shared lab.
And now? I had an entire space dedicated to my work.
It was overwhelming.
Jared watched me. “You okay?” he asked after a moment.
“Is this lab not sufficient?”
I shook my head, swallowing hard.
“No, it’s very generous. It’s just a lot to take in.”
He smirked.
“You’ll get used to it.”
He wandered around the lab pointing out various equipment.
“The windows are tinted to block sunlight but just push this button to close the blinds.”
I felt like I was having an out of body experience.
How could this be real?
“Okay,” I managed to get out.
“If you need anything, just let me know. Special equipment or access to files, whatever you need.”
I turned to face him, my gratitude outweighing my usual reserve.
“Thank you,” I said.
“This is… this was my dream.”
He tilted his head, studying me.
“Why?”
The question caught me off guard.
I wasn’t ready to tell him about my mom, or my dad, or the accident that had changed everything.
I wasn’t ready to share the parts of my life that had driven me to this field, to this moment.
I wanted to be known for my work, not my past. I didn’t want to be one of those people that flashed their grief and mourning card to get special attention.
“I just always wanted to make a difference, I guess. As you said, the brain is still one of life’s great mysteries.”
He didn’t push, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely satisfied with my answer.
Instead, he tapped his knuckles against the counter and said, “Well, get to work, then. I expect a Nobel prize from you within five years.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“I’ll do it in three.”
“I love that confidence,” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged.
Then he straightened, breaking the moment.
“I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”
As he walked out of the lab, I felt a strange mix of emotions.
He left me alone in this beautiful, overwhelming space, and I couldn’t help but feel a little lost.
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling.
This was my moment. My dream.
I moved toward the nearest workstation and opened one of the drawers to find it meticulously organized, every tool and piece of glassware in its place and carefully labeled.
This was where I belonged.
I just had to accept it—and not waste this opportunity getting distracted by hunky boys.