Hourglass

“What are you doing anyway? You never approach guys. I realize he’s exceptional, but really?” He might be a pain, but he was my pain. Sort of.

Lily looked at me and shrugged. “Exceptional is an understatement.”

“Later,” I murmured as I jumped the last step and ran toward him, barely looking as I crossed the street.

“Hey.” The breathless thing was happening again, but I didn’t care.

“Hey,” he replied. I wanted to put my hands on him as a test, to see if the connection existed on a busy street in the middle of the afternoon. I reached a finger out to boldly touch the curve below his smile.

He reached up to grab my arm. “Are you trying to get me fired? Or kill me?”

“You would be of no use to me dead.” Although I couldn’t breathe when he touched me, so I guess it all depended on who kicked the bucket first. He still held my wrist, and my whole arm was vibrating.

I almost wished he were telling the truth about the whole time-travel thing. He was way too pretty to be delusional.

“Get in.” Michael let go of my arm, grabbed my backpack, and opened my car door. I slid into the leather seat. As he shut the door and walked around the car, I looked back toward the front of the coffee shop.

Lily, her mouth hanging open, still stood in the exact same spot.

Chapter 17

When did curbside service become part of the deal?” The bucket seats in the small foreign car put us precariously close to each other. At least the sky spread out above us gave the illusion of space. He steered away from the town square and turned down the radio.

“I have to go away for a day or two. I thought if we were both buckled in, I could have an actual conversation with you before I left. It’s important. So don’t touch me.” He made a noise that resembled a growl. “I mean, again.”

“What are we talking about now?” I was ready to do something. At least we could start my … time-travel training. I made a mental note not to say that out loud.

“I’ve got a couple of things I want you to read.” The wind rumpled his hair as he steered with one hand, turning to reach into the tiny backseat with the other. He gave me a hardcover book with the title Space Time Continuum and Wormhole Theories, in addition to a thick, worn three-ring binder with tattered and coffee-stained pages inside. “Concentrate on the binder—move to the book if you have time. It’s theory, not fact. The facts are in the binder. Don’t let it out of your sight.”

One wish granted, even if it was just reading material. Maybe the books held some kind of scientific proof that would help me believe him. Like I would understand it if I saw it.

Michael turned down one of my favorite back roads. It ran parallel to a lake. I took my hair down from the ponytail and rested my head back against the seat, looking up at the trees along the shoreline that were tinged with color. Autumn always fascinated me—so much beauty in dying. Leaves holding on until the bitter end, finally going down in a blaze of glory, almost as if they were trying to convince us to keep them alive.

I looked at Michael’s profile out of the corner of my eye, attempting objectivity. Crazy connection or not, any girl would be drawn to him, as evidenced by Lily’s reaction. Straight nose, strong chin and jaw, and then there was that pesky mouth of his. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun peeking through the trees and the wind in my hair. I recited multiplication tables in my head to keep my thoughts under control and my hands to myself.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, just that I awoke when I heard the engine cut off. We were parked on the side street by the lofts. The sun hung only slightly lower in the sky, so I hadn’t been out long. I stretched and opened my eyes to Michael, who appeared to be in pain. His brows pulled together over his dark eyes, and there was a hard set to his mouth.

I froze midstretch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, his voice rough.

I didn’t think I had crossed any boundaries since I touched him before I got in the car, and none of my roommates at school ever claimed I talked in my sleep.

“I’m sorry about before, on the street—”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t that.”

“Then what did I do?”

“Besides fall asleep?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not the company, but we were up so late, and the sun felt so good.” I stopped. Why was I defending myself? Michael wasn’t too big on the explanations, so I had no idea why I was trying to clarify anything to him.

He looked away from me to focus on the side of the building. “You seem so vulnerable when you sleep. I don’t get that from you a lot.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I almost cried at dinner the other night. Was that not vulnerable enough for you?”

“There’s a difference. At dinner you were sad; today you’re … soft.” His eyes returned to my face. What I saw in them made me catch my breath.

“As long as I didn’t drool.”

One corner of his mouth twisted into a half smile. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Don’t.”

“I have to. It’s probably not a bad thing. I don’t know how I would handle another incident like the one we had last night on the patio,” he said uneasily.

“When will you be back?” I reached down to grab my backpack and the books he gave me. And to hide my flaming face.

“I can’t say for sure, but maybe by tomorrow. I hope you’re a fast reader.”

I opened the car door. I needed to get out, needed to put space between us. “Please. Faster than a speeding bullet. Even with the whole”—I twirled one finger in a circle beside my head, giving him the international sign for crazy—“thing, I was ranked in the top five of my junior class.” I shut the car door for emphasis. “Actually, top three.”

“Funny, gorgeous, and a genius. What a package.” He backed out of the parking space, smiling as he drove away.

I loved that he left crazy off the list.

I loved it even more that he would never think to add it.

Chapter 18

The binder Michael gave me overflowed with detailed information, making me cross-eyed. I gave it all I had for half an hour, decided I needed sugar and caffeine, and went to grind some beans I’d snagged from Murphy’s Law for a fresh pot of coffee.

Instead of watching it drip, I did my good deed for the day and cleared the countertops of all the piled-up papers. I pinned tiny white cards with dates and times for obstetrician’s appointments scribbled on them to the corkboard on the wall, threw away old newspapers, and saved unopened bills. I’d just finished spraying down the counters when a long beep sounded to tell me my coffee was brewed. I leaned down to put the spray cleaner under the sink and spotted something barely sticking out from underneath the cabinets.

Dru’s key ring.

Maybe the excitement of the pregnancy was making Dru forgetful, because it was totally unlike Dru to lose anything. Yet her keys, including the master, lay on the floor right in front of me.

By accident.

Or by fate.

I wanted to know more about Michael. I didn’t expect anyone from my family to be home for at least another hour, and since Michael was out of town, what kept me from slipping next door, sliding the key into the lock, and taking a quick look around? Maybe Michael left a candle burning. Maybe he forgot to turn off his iron, or the oven. Maybe he left his dishwasher running and it was flooding the place, or a thirsty plant desperately needed water.