I ran my fingers over the ink, my mind already spinning with possibilities. The desert. A vague instruction, but deliberate. Winston had planned something ... something that required preparation.
The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror, assessing my reflection. Slim-fit khaki pants, a light-blue linen button-up with a few buttons undone—just enough to be intriguing—comfortable yet stylish flats, and a wide-brimmed hat. The look was effortless, a hint of safari chic without trying too hard.
With the badge in my pocket, I opened the door at precisely 9:00 a.m. to find a lifted, doorless convertible Jeep Renegade already in my driveway, with Winston behind the wheel. The hat wasn’t going to work. I took it off and threw it back inside before locking the door behind me.
As I climbed into the Jeep, Winston offered me a hand, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Good morning,” he said, his smile slow and sensual, and his eyes tracing the curves of my body as if he were mentally undressing me. “Ready for your tour?”
I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Good morning, Winston. I sure am. What’s on the agenda?”
“I thought we could take the scenic route,” he said, his voice low and teasing, and his eyes sparkling with mischief above the dark lenses of his shades. “It’ll give us a chance to talk and enjoy the view.”
Winston pointed out landmarks and shared tidbits about the area, his voice smooth and captivating, like a melody I couldn’t get enough of.
We drove on the interstate for a few miles, heading northwest of the city, before the landscape stretched open into endless desert. The wind whipped through my hair as I took in the expanse of golden sand and jagged rock formations, stark against the deep-blue sky. The Jeepbounced along the rugged terrain, but I felt safe, trusting him instinctively and enjoying the ride more than I’d anticipated.
“That ridge up ahead,” Winston said, nodding toward a serrated line of red rock, “was once underwater. Millions of years ago, this whole area was part of a vast inland sea.”
I glanced at him, intrigued. “And you know this because ...?”
He flashed a grin. “Because I’m a man of many interests.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Which means you just read it off a plaque once.”
His chuckle was warm, easy. “Guilty.” He shifted slightly toward me, one hand still steady on the wheel. “Did you know they shot part ofCasinoout here? That scene where De Niro’s character drives into the desert for a little ... let’s call it a ‘business meeting’?”
I smirked. “Let me guess—you’re implying I should be worried?”
He tilted his head, considering. “Not at all. Unless, of course, you have enemies I don’t know about.”
The way he said it, teasing but laced with something sharper, sent a tiny thrill through me. This was easy, natural, the back-and-forth banter unfolding effortlessly between us. Like a rhythm we both already knew. We stopped a distance away from the plant, on top of a hill that overlooked an array of solar panels installed in a circle, with a tall tower in the center. It was a striking sight. The rows of panels gleamed with sheen, creating a dazzling, spiraling pattern that stretched across the landscape, shimmering as they caught and reflected the sunlight. The top of the tower glowed brilliantly with an intense white light as it absorbed concentrated solar energy, standing out starkly against the clear blue sky. I was in awe, almost forgetting the reason I was there.
“Have you visited a solar plant before?” he asked, cutting the engine. He jumped out of the Jeep and walked around it, offering a hand I took gladly as I climbed out of the elevated off-roader. His hand lingered on mine, the contact sending sparks through my skin.
“I’ve read about them, but no. This is my first time.”
“Do you know how it works?” He leaned against the Jeep, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, even though we weren’t touching.
“These are called heliostats, right? They reflect sunshine toward the tower, where water is heated and turned into steam—”
“Where salt is melted and the intense heat is stored,” he interrupted gently. “This is a molten-salt plant.”
“Oh ...?” I’d heard of those, but didn’t know much. My knowledge of solar energy was quite superficial.
Winston’s lips quirked, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But do you know why I went with salt instead of steam?”
I considered my answer for a brief moment. “To store the energy after the sun sets, right? To be able to generate nonstop. It’s calledbeing dispatchable, I believe.”
His gaze locked on to mine, a slow smile spreading across his face—equal parts impressed and intrigued. “You do know your stuff.” There was something else in his expression, deeper, as if he was seeing me in a new light.
The moment hung between us, thick with something unspoken. I wasn’t used to being seen like this—like he was noticing more than just the version of myself I chose to show. I found myself leaning in, caught up in the way he spoke. Not just the words, but the energy behind them. His voice had a rhythm to it, a quiet intensity that made even the driest technical details feel exciting.
I hadn’t expected to care. But there I was, hanging on to every word, not just listening but wanting to understand, curious and intrigued. The way he spoke—animated, completely in his element—drew me in before I’d even realized it. His excitement threaded through every word, every gesture, and without meaning to, I felt myself matching his energy, absorbing it.
I wasn’t just listening anymore. I was engaged, the conversation pulling me somewhere unexpected ... somewhere I hadn’t planned to go.
In the distance, the tip of the tower at the center of the array shone so brightly that I couldn’t look at it without my sunglasses on. I turned to Winston and asked, “How many heliostats do you have here?”
