Page 53 of Duty Compromised
We drove away from my neighborhood, not toward it, and my tired brain took a moment to process the direction. “This isn’t the way to my house.”
“Nope.” He checked his mirrors with that constant awareness he had, always watching, always ready.
“Where are we going?”
He pulled into a parking lot in front of a restaurant I’d driven past hundreds of times but never entered. Not fancy with valet parking and a dress code, but not a drive-through either. The kind of place normal people went on normal dates.
“You need real food,” he said, turning off the engine. “Not protein bars. Not the sandwiches and energy drinks I’ve been bringing you. An actual meal where you sit down and eat with utensils and maybe even taste what you’re eating.”
“I ate everything you brought me.”
“You inhaled it while typing one-handed and probably didn’t taste any of it.”
He had a point. Every meal for the past thirty hours had been consumed mechanically, fuel for the coding marathon rather than anything I actually experienced.
“That’s what I thought.” He came around to open my door before I could protest. “Come on, Dr. Gifford. Time for a proper meal.”
I wanted to protest, but my body betrayed me, stomach growling at the mere thought of real food. My legs felt shaky as I slid out of the truck, and Ty’s hand found my elbow, steadying me.
Inside, the restaurant was warm and dimly lit, with booths along one wall and tables scattered through the middle. Not romantic exactly, but comfortable. The hostess led us to a corner booth, and I slid in, suddenly aware of how I must look. Lab-wrinkled clothes, mostly unbraided hair, the bruise on my cheekbone from yesterday’s accident turning purple-green.
Was this a date? My experience with actual dates could be counted on one hand with fingers left over. This felt like it could be one—restaurant, just the two of us, him insisting on taking care of me. But then, taking care of me was literally his job.
My mind drifted to waking up in his arms after the accident. The way he’d touched me, made me fall apart with such focused intensity. I was hoping for more of that, but evidently, he wasn’t since he’d made it clear back at Vertex that he’d be heading back to his hotel.
“Stop,” Ty said, settling across from me.
“Stop what?”
“Whatever you’re overthinking. You get this little furrow between your eyebrows when your brain goes into overdrive.”
A flush crept up my neck. He noticed my thinking face? “I wasn’t?—”
“Yeah, you were.” He handed me a menu. “Here. Pick something with actual nutritional value. And stop worrying about how you look. You look beautiful.”
The last word made my heart skip. Beautiful. Not fine. Not okay. Beautiful. Even exhausted and rumpled, he thought I was beautiful. He’d called me that before.
But still…it could just be a figure of speech. I wasn’t sure.
I opened the menu, but the words swam together. My brain kept circling back to the lab, to his cryptic comment about trusting him. “What did you mean earlier? When you asked me to trust you?”
He looked up from his own menu, those brown eyes steady on mine. “I’m playing a hunch.”
“About what?”
“About our saboteur getting desperate. About them making a move if they think you’re close to finishing.” He set his menu aside. “I’ll let you know if it works out.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“It’s not supposed to be. Let’s just see what happens.” The server appeared, and Ty ordered a steak and vegetables. I did the same—actual food that required utensils and chewing.
When the server left, Ty leaned back, studying me. “Right now, I just want you to relax. Eat a meal. Have a conversation that doesn’t involve quantum mechanics or security protocols.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Sure you do.” His smile was gentle, not mocking. “Tell me something about yourself that has nothing to do with work.”
I fidgeted with my napkin. “There isn’t much. Work is…most of what I do.”
