Chapter 5
KATE
Iwoke with a jolt, my body registering disaster before my brain could catch up. Blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling, I fumbled for my phone.
Nine seventeen a.m.
“No, no, no!” I launched out of bed. “This cannot be happening!”
My first day at the fellowship. The fellowship I’d moved across the country for. The fellowship that was supposed to start at—I checked my welcome email—9:30 a.m.
Thirteen minutes to get dressed, find the lab, and somehow not look like a tornado survivor.
I scrambled through my suitcase, tossing clothes everywhere. Where was my professional first-day outfit? The one I’d carefully packed in my carry-on precisely to avoid this scenario?
I finally located my wrinkled blouse and slacks. No time to iron. No time to do anything but the absolute essentials.
I brushed my teeth while simultaneously trying to tame my hair, which had decided overnight to transform into something resembling a squirrel’s winter nest. The toothpaste dribbling down my chin completed the “competent scientist” look I was going for.
Four minutes later, I burst out of the guest room, research notes clutched to my chest, hair semi-contained in a messy bun, blouse buttoned unevenly. I sprinted down the hallway at full speed, mentally calculating the fastest route to campus.
And slammed directly into a wall of warm, wet muscle.
Not a wall. A chest. A very firm, very bare chest.
My papers exploded into the air like scientific confetti as I bounced off Stone’s torso and landed ungracefully on my butt. I looked up, mouth agape, as droplets of water slid down the ridges of his abs, disappearing into the towel wrapped precariously around his hips.
“Do you ever look where you’re going?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in what might have been amusement if it wasn’t buried under annoyance.
“I—you—shower,” I stammered eloquently, my brain short-circuiting at the proximity of so much bare skin. His body was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew, dotted with small scars that hinted at a career of physical battles.
“Observant,” he remarked dryly, extending a hand to help me up.
I took it, trying desperately to ignore the heat spreading through me like wildfire. The same heat that was currently making my thighs clench and my breath catch. This was ridiculous. I was a scientist, not some hormone-addled teenager.
“I’m late,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched. “First day. Lab. Fellowship.”
“Use complete sentences, Lab Bunny,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I don’t have time for complete sentences!” I dropped to my knees, gathering papers. “I have thirteen—no, wait—eight minutes to get to the lab before I completely torpedo my career!”
Stone bent down to help, his towel shifting dangerously. I averted my eyes. Mostly.
“Your buttons are wrong,” he pointed out, handing me a stack of notes.
I glanced down at my blouse and groaned. “Of course they are. Because the universe hates me today.”
“Here.” He reached out, his towel shifting lower on his hips as he moved closer.
My breath caught in my throat as his fingers brushed against my skin, deliberately unbuttoning the top of my blouse. His knuckles grazed the swell of my breasts, sending an electric current straight to my core. I couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped my lips.
His eyes darted to mine, darkening visibly. The air between us suddenly felt charged, thick with tension. Water droplets clung to his collarbone, one sliding slowly down the defined ridges of his chest. I had the overwhelming urge to lean forward and catch it with my tongue.
“You’re supposed to start with the bottom button,” he explained, his voice rough as his fingers worked their way down my blouse. Each touch lingered a fraction longer than necessary. “Then they’ll align properly.”
His hands were so close to my breasts now that I could feel their heat through the thin fabric. My nipples hardened, embarrassingly visible through my blouse. Stone noticed—his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
“That’s...unusually helpful of you,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. I shifted slightly, my thighs pressing together to relieve the sudden ache between them.
“I’m a helpful guy.” His mouth curved into that almost-smile, but there was something predatory in his eyes now. His fingers finished with the last button and then, instead of pulling away, they trailed lightly back up, skimming the center of my body until they reached my collarbone.
His thumb brushed over my racing pulse point. “Your heart’s racing, Lab Bunny.”
“Wonder why,” I breathed, unable to look away from the intensity in his gaze.
For a moment, I thought he might close the distance between us. His towel had slipped dangerously low, revealing the sharp cut of muscle disappearing beneath the terry cloth. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the clean scent of his soap mixed with something uniquely male.
His hand moved from my collarbone to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. I couldn’t help the small sound that escaped me—somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
“Careful,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on my mouth. “Or you’ll be late for more than just your first day.”
The implication of what would make me even later...
God, does he mean?
Suddenly, he stepped back, the spell broken. I immediately felt cold without his proximity.
“Right,” I muttered, gathering my papers while trying to look anywhere but at his chest. Or abs. Or the obvious bulge now visible beneath his towel.
“The Biological Sciences building is about fifteen minutes from here by car,” he said. “Take Washington Avenue, then cut through downtown—it’s a couple miles to campus.”
I blinked in surprise. “How did you—”
“Your welcome packet,” he nodded toward the papers in my hand. “Big University of Minnesota logo. Not exactly detective work.”
“Right. Well. Thank you.” I gathered the last of my papers, painfully aware of the dampness between my thighs and the heavy throb of arousal that would follow me all the way to the lab.
“I’m surprised your team apartment is this far from campus. The listing specifically said, ‘sublet near campus.’” I frowned, thinking back to the messages. “I assumed it’d be a little closer.”
“Dennis lied about a lot of things,” Stone said flatly. “The team owns luxury properties throughout the city for players. This building is downtown, close to the arena—not the university.”
“That explains the fancy elevator and doorman,” I muttered. “Not exactly student housing.”
“Good luck, Lab Bunny.” He turned away, that almost-smile playing at his lips again.
I grabbed my phone, pulling up a rideshare app as I rushed for the door, my mind split between panic about being late and the lingering phantom sensation of his fingers on my skin.
“And Kate?” he called after me.
I paused, hand on the doorknob.
“Your shoes don’t match.”
I looked down. One black flat. One navy.
Perfect. I hurried back to my room to fix the shoes.
The rideshare dropped me at the edge of campus. From there I had to sprint the rest of the way to the Biological Sciences building, bursting into the lab precisely fourteen minutes late, my chest heaving and face flushed.
“Dr. Ellis,” a crisp voice cut through the bustling laboratory. “How kind of you to join us.”
Dr. Eleanor Barnes stood by a pristine workstation, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a perfect bun, her lab coat without a single wrinkle. She was everything I aspired to be professionally, and at this moment, everything I clearly wasn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped, clutching my disheveled notes. “Housing emergency. Couldn’t find...address.”
Her piercing eyes assessed me from head to toe. “Indeed. Well, tardiness aside, we’re pleased to have you join our research team.”
She gestured to the four other researchers, all of whom looked like they’d been awake, dressed, and scientifically productive for hours.
“Everyone, this is Dr. Katherine Ellis, our new fellowship recipient. Dr. Ellis specializes in antibiotic resistance mechanisms.” She turned back to me. “Dr. Ellis, allow me to introduce the team.”
I smiled awkwardly as Dr. Barnes introduced each team member, their names immediately evaporating from my anxiety-riddled brain. I’d be calling them “hey you” for at least a week.
Dr. Barnes cleared her throat. “Dr. Ellis, your workstation is here. We’ve prepared culture samples according to your research proposal. Today we’ll be running baseline assessments.”
I nodded.
“Perfect. I brought my modified protocols for the plasmid transfer tracking.”
“I reviewed your protocols,” said a woman—Dr. Sharma, I thought, though I wasn’t certain. “Your RNA extraction method seems unnecessarily complex.”
“It’s actually designed to preserve plasmid integrity during isolation,” I explained, shifting into what Angel called my “science mode.” “Standard methods can disrupt the very transfer mechanisms we’re trying to study.”
“Interesting approach,” Dr. Barnes noted. “Rather unorthodox, but potentially valuable. Let’s see your results before drawing conclusions.”
The next six hours dissolved into a blur of pipettes, cultures, and centrifuges. During lunch, I sat alone, reviewing my morning’s data while eating a protein bar from my bag.
I glanced over my notes, already thinking ahead to what I’d tweak in the next run.
Sometimes, I let myself imagine running experiments in my own lab—one where I could chase bold hypotheses without having to convince someone else they were worth pursuing.
But that kind of dream required funding, credentials, connections.
A reality so far off it almost felt fictional.
“First day going well?” asked a friendly voice.
I looked up to see a younger lab tech—Ryan? Brian?—smiling at me.
“Better now that I’m actually doing science instead of making first impressions,” I admitted.
He laughed. “Don’t mind Dr. Barnes. She’s tough on everyone.”