Chapter Eight
1203 Words
“My best friend. She’s a football fanatic… and from California. She kind of rubbed off on me. Of course, she threatened me with bodily harm if I continued to root for the Cowboys.”
“Why were you rooting for the Cowboys?” he asked.
“Don’t laugh.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll try not to.”
“My second favorite color is blue, and I thought red and gold was a weird color combo.”
“What’s your first favorite color?”
“Green.”
“So why not root for the Packers?”
Sam snorted. “Ew. Ugly Green and puke yellow are way worse together.”
Cole laughed, albeit quietly.
She jabbed a finger toward him. “Hey, I was twelve and making an attempt to like something she liked. In the end, I didn’t really care, so I switched to the ’Niners. Now, they’re a habit.”
“Well, that’s a great reason to root for a team,” he deadpanned.
“Okay, mister expert, are you going to tell me you like the Patriots or Steelers, or something even more impressive?”
Cole tapped his fingers on the table. “I’m a diehard Lions fan.”
“Detroit Lions?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“What are you? The patron saint of lost causes?”
Cole grinned. “You’re funny.”
The server arrived with their meal and, once Sam approved of the wine, poured them each a glass. He left them and Sam felt compelled to find out more about Cole Drake.
“So, tell me, why the Lions?”
“Born and raised in Detroit,” he said.
“Detroit, Detroit, or the outskirts?”
Cole chuckled. “Detroit, Detroit.”
“Wow. I can honestly say I’ve never actually met anyone from Detroit. I thought once the car factories dried up, everyone got out.”
“That’s true to an extent. But my lineage isn’t an auto one… it’s law enforcement. We were lucky.”
“It can’t have been easy to watch friends suffer, though.” A shadow crossed Cole’s face and Sam figured she’d probably pushed a button with that comment. She was also a little surprised she’d made such a personal observation. “How do you like the wine?” she asked, in an effort to change the subject.
“It’s very good. I’ll be sure to defer to you in the future for all my wine choices.”
“You can tell your friends you have your very own sommelier on speed dial.”
“In my crew, that’ll make me somewhat unpopular. But it can be our secret.”
Sam smiled. “So, does the university typically fly their guest lecturers first class?”
Cole’s eyes widened and then he smiled. “No. They waited too long to book my flight and only had first class available.”
Sam hummed. “Lucky you.”
The rest of dinner was much the same. Easy and comfortable conversation. Sam was pleasantly surprised by how much she connected with Cole. When the check arrived, he insisted on paying, even after her strenuous argument. He was gallant to the end, walking her to the elevator and kissing her cheek again. She’d felt comfortable enough to exchange phone numbers with him, but was glad he didn’t ask to walk her to her room. She wanted to keep a few boundaries with him and honor her father’s request to keep her wits about her, which he’d followed with several instructions on staying safe.
She headed back to her room and checked to see if Pepper was online. She wasn’t, so Samantha got ready for bed and proceeded to not sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Samantha’s new cell phone rang and she answered it to Payton McFadden, Duncan’s assistant, letting her know she awaited her in the lobby.
“I’ll be right down,” Sam said.
After checking her appearance in the mirror, Sam grabbed her satchel and purse and headed to the elevators. Stepping into the lobby, she was surprised by how busy it was.
“Dr. Moore?”
Sam turned to the pretty, young woman and smiled. “Yes, I’m Samantha Moore.”
“I’m Payton.”
“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”
Sam shook Payton’s hand and took in her appearance. She had dark red hair that she’d pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck and she wore thick-rimmed glasses. She didn’t wear a stitch of make-up, and looked a bit like a stern teacher, but her light blue eyes crinkled at the corners, softening her appearance. When she smiled, Sam felt like she was with an old friend.
“It’s nice to meet you as well. I have a car waiting for us out front. Dr. Gunnach is expecting us, so we should go. Have you had breakfast?”
“No. I don’t usually eat until lunchtime.”
Payton tsked. “That will never do. Dr. Gunnach is quite the stickler on eating at regular hours. We’ll grab something on the way to the office.”
“Okay.”
Sam tried to keep the irritation from her voice. She’d become an expert at hiding her opinion about overbearing men; however, she’d been subject to many of Pepper’s tirades on the subject.
They found the car waiting for them. Gobber the Belch nodded as Sam slid into the backseat.
“Dr. Moore needs to eat, Alasdair, so if we could stop somewhere quick, that would be great.”
“We better,” Alasdair said. “The boss doesn’t like people skipping meals.”
Sam had a vision of Genghis Khan sitting at a large desk, waving pastries in the air as he ran Gunnach Pharmaceutical.
“There’s a Starbucks close by,” Payton said.
“Please don’t go to any trouble,” she argued.
“In that case, Alasdair, we’ll just stop at the café in the building,” Payton instructed. “Will that work, Dr. Moore?”
“Sounds great,” Sam said.
Alasdair pulled away from the curb. Before Sam could get her bearings, he brought the car to a stop.
“We’re here?” Sam asked.
“Close, eh?” Payton said.
Sam nodded. “We could have walked.”
Payton groaned. “Not me. I don’t walk anywhere I don’t have to. I prefer to be driven.”
Sam couldn’t stop a laugh. “You sound like my best friend.”
Payton slid out of the car and Sam followed. “Dr. Gunnach will meet with you for a few minutes, and then his assistant, Anna, will show you to your office and give you a tour of the lab.”
Payton led Sam to the café on the bottom floor of the building, and she chose a small muffin and a large coffee. Her heart started to race again as she took the last bite, and she took a minute to attempt to calm herself. She’d been having these minor panic attacks since she’d arrived. Friday night’s had been the worst, but this one had the potential to be just as bad.
What the heck is going on?
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