Page 6 of When Sinners Fear

“Oh.” She looks down at it on her lapel, her flustered face evening out. “Condensed matter physics.” She pauses, but rushes on. “For my PhD. Applied physics was my undergrad, with discrete maths structure, and I sat in on some bioinformatics classes too.” She stops. “Was that too much information? Sorry, I’m comfortable talking about study and science.”

I usher my hand behind her and push us towards the closest reasonably empty table. “You’re young for working towards your PhD.”

“I’m not that young.” I look at her almost crystal blue eyes again, watching her feisty determination to prove something shine through. “I suppose my brain just functions differently to most. I’m a quick learner, though, and I enjoy processing information. I like focused thought. It's easier that way. Or it is for me.”

“And why are you here then? You should be in Pasadena.”

“I’ve taken some personal leave for a term. My mother is sick, so I’m back to help.”

“Help with what?”

She reaches for a glass of lemonade and passes it to me, taking one herself afterwards. “Looking after her. Looking after my brother and sister. Making sure the house is straight. Father needed me.”

My gaze scrutinises the crowd back towards her father, and I sneer my instant dislike of a man who’d force emotive reactions because of his own insecurities rather than academic success. “He did, did he? I suppose he also forces this charade of hypocrisy.”

“What does that mean?”

“This. Religion.”

“You don’t believe?”

“I believe in numbers, facts and gut reactions. I also believe in pleasure. None of which seem acceptable here.”

“Slightly confusing then that you’re at a church. More so that you’re friends with Father Michael.” She starts walking, heading us towards an overhang of trees and into the shade. “How do you know him?”

“We went to college together.”

She appears shocked. “You went to seminary school?”

A laugh rumbles through me. “No, Peyton. It was before he chose that route. I’m the furthest thing from ecclesiastical you will ever meet. You should think lower than that. Much lower.”

“Lower?”

I don’t fill her in on anymore, mainly because I’m not scaring her off before I’m ready, but also because I do have to leave to meet Mariana at the range. I look out at the masses still fawning and flirting their way around Michael instead, and smile. Whatever he used to be, and whatever fun we had back then, he’s certainly not it anymore.

“What did you study at college?” she asks.

“Math. Various applications.” Easily, enough so that it gave me plenty of time to fuck around with virginal innocence as much as I liked. These days, I have less time, but my appetite is still strong as hell. Especially for ripe little PhD students. “We should go for a coffee,” I muse, moving us towards my car.

“What?”

“A date, Peyton. I’d like to see you again.”

“You would?”

“Yes. Why is that so surprising?”

She looks down, clasps her hands together again, then looks back at her father. “I’m … It’s not. It’s just that … I’m not sure…”

“You’re not sure you want a date, or you’re not sure what you’re talking about?”

She smiles a little and looks up at me. “You’re very direct. And older. I’m not sure my father would–” Fuck her father.

“I think I’ve been relatively elusive. You’ll understand my direct a damn sight easier when we get to that.” Her feet stop moving, and she frowns at the tone of those words. “Please don’t pretend you’re not fascinated. We both know you are. You should be aware, though, there is nothing Christian in these veins.” I get a card out of my pocket and hold it out for her. “There is only math, science and truth. We could discuss it some more. Debate the essence of morality perhaps. Or, even better, we look at why you’re putting your future on the line for someone’s inevitable death. That could be interesting.” She looks at the card then back at me, before reaching for it gently. I flick it back to me. “Be careful with your choice, Peyton. I will lead you away from this path. I’ve no interest in curtailing myself for it. As I said, think lower.”

She reaches for the card again, this time snatching it from me. “I like math, science and truth,” she says, looking at the writing. “Mr Cortez.”

“Mmm. Good.” I disable the car alarm again, look over her head at the other people watching us, and open the door. “Hide that card. You’re right, he won’t approve."

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