Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
Sophy eventually emerged from the bath. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her face was scrubbed of all makeup, and she was swathed neck-to-ankle in a fluffy white robe emblazoned with the inn’s logo.
It struck him that she looked adorable—soft and warm and incredibly sexy.
She considered the bed with a judicious air, taking in the neatly arranged row of pillows that formed a barrier straight down the middle.
“Excellent,” she said. “That will work.”
She didn’t have to sound so enthusiastic, he thought.
He retreated to the bathroom and came out wearing one of the robes and was relieved to see that the lights were off.
Sophy was snugged up under the covers. Maybe she wouldn’t notice him climbing into bed beside her wearing only his briefs and a T-shirt.
In hindsight, it was clear he should have bought some pajamas before the long drive to the art colony, but they had been in a hurry and it had never crossed his mind.
When he was settled on his side of the massive bed he folded his arms behind his head and gazed up at the shadowed ceiling. Connecting a few dots.
“We need to get up very early in the morning,” he announced.
“Why?” Sophy mumbled into the pillow.
“I want to check out the natural radiation levels in the area at sunrise. To do that, it will be necessary to get as far away as possible from the lights here in the compound. They are on night and day.”
There was a short silence from the other side of the pillow barrier.
“Why do we have to check out the rad levels at dawn?” she asked.
“I want to see if the natural currents feel unstable or if the problem is just in the center of the compound. There are times during the twenty-four-hour solar cycle when paranormal currents oscillate in a way that allows for observations of stability. The transition from night to day is one of them.”
“I didn’t know that. Interesting. Good night, Luke.”
“Good night, Sophy.”
It was, he thought, going to be a long time until dawn. He turned onto his side and saw Bruce curled up on the carpet next to the bed. Aware that he was being watched, the dog raised his head and opened his molten gold eyes in an inquiring expression.
“No, you can’t sleep on the bed tonight,” Luke said softly. “There’s no room.”
“What?” Sophy said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“Nothing. I was just informing Bruce that he’s sleeping on the floor tonight.”
“Mmm.”
Sophy went silent again.
Luke switched his attention to the doughnut sculpture, going over the message Deke had held up in the hologram.
Deke was one of the Agency’s most successful agents, a true professional. That meant that every word he had written on the lined yellow paper was important. So much to ponder.
But the handwritten warning was not the last thing he thought about before drifting off the sleep.
Instead, he contemplated the concept of failed experiments.
It was not an unfamiliar notion. After all, he came from a family of engineers.
Failure analysis was embedded deep into the culture of Wells, Inc.
But he had never considered using the technique to examine a relationship disaster. Until now.
There were, he thought, a lot of things he had not contemplated before meeting Sophy. He had a feeling that, going forward, his life would be divided into the pre-Sophy era and the post-Sophy era.
He did not want to think about a post-Sophy time.