“Next?”
Mr. Moore looked up to her and then back toward the plants. “Already?”
“Yes. What, was that supposed to be difficult?”
“Not difficult, per se. Time consuming. I needed time to complete my formula before assigning the next task.”
Cassie leaned over to look at his notes. “What are we working on in here, anyway?”
He turned back around, and she felt his face brush against her hair accidently. In that moment she heard him take in a breath through his nose as though he was smelling her hair. After all of the work she’d put into making herself presentable, she knew her hair smelled good.
“Yes, well. Meat.”
“Meat?” she looked up to him and then back down at his notes.
“Yes. Well. A fungal specimen containing the same protein values as meat. We’re modifying the genes to create the proper mixture of survivability and nutritional value. A super food that can be grown under almost any conditions. With this we can feed the hungry in any part of the world, and even take it into space.”
“That’s amazing,” she exclaimed, looking out at the little sprouts with new interest. “If they’re fungal, why are they sprouting?”
“Why indeed. For now, take your break. I’ll have another task for you when you return.”
She looked up to him and his blue eyes and found him looking down her body.
When he saw she had caught him looking he cleared his throat, said, “Yes, well,” and went back to his notes.
She couldn’t help smiling as she left.
The rest of the day was spent performing tests on each of the sprouts to see what was reacting to the doses given to them the day before by someone else.
When she automatically adjusted for an incorrect dose of formula as signified by a particular spike or valley in the readouts, Mr. Moore was impressed.
A week came and went, yet she continued working with him. Some of the specimens had died, the solution being too strong, or simply toxic to the poor things. Others had sprouted into multiple stalks, or took on different colors.
All throughout, she continued to impress him with her knowledge and ability to anticipate his needs. He was quiet, never speaking unless he had to. It gave him a mysterious air.
Who was he? No one in the lab knew anything about him. One day he just seemed to show up and built the facility. Even now no one has ever seen him go home or come in.
With every passing day, however, Cassie was finding herself drawn to him more and more. The way he moved, the solid muscle he had under that lab coat.
During some of her more tedious tasks, she allowed herself to imagine what he would look like wearing only the lab coat, the flap strategically open to show his chest and abs, yet just barely covering…
“Cassie,” he said, pulling her out of her reverie. That was the first time he’d ever said her name.
“Yes?” she asked as she came to stand beside him so he wouldn’t have to yell.
“I think we’re onto something. The solution from last week along this array? It’s showing consistently positive results. Take the soil sampler and get me readouts on every specimen on this list.”
He handed her a clipboard with the charts and notes on it. As she accepted it, she reached up grab the soil sampler but instead landed her hand on top of his.
They both paused and looked at one another. A rush of blood colored her cheeks, heating her ears, and she pulled her hand back.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I was just getting the sampler.”
“Yes, well,” he said, slowly pulling his hand down. Without another word he held out the sampler to her. Taking it, she placed it on her clipboard and went to the first specimen on the list. The clipboard clacked against the table as she set it down and took a sample from the first pot.
As she worked, she tried to sneak a glance at Mr. Moore but saw him trying to subtly look at her from the corner of his eye as he reached for something.
After that touch, she was burning up inside. She couldn’t get the image of him naked except for that lab coat out of her mind. There was no telling where this would go, but she had to try, right?
Clearing her throat, she said, “Mr. Moore?”
“Please, call me Stephen.”
“Stephen, there seems to be something wrong with the sampler.”
“What?” he asked and came to her. She held it out to him, knowing full well it worked perfectly. Stephen pressed the clip at the end and watched the twin spoons at the end open and close. “It appears to work normally.”
“That’s odd,” she said, taking the item back when he offered it. “It wasn’t closing properly when I was doing it.”
“Show me.”
“Well,” she said, and scooted to get between him and the table as she reached up. “I was reaching like this…”