No wonder the Grorn want her.The thought made him uneasy, and he turned his attention back to the food, carrying the bowls to the small table in the cabin. Emma looked up at his approach and smiled, and something in his chest tightened at the sight. Her dark hair had come loose from its braid, curling around her face in soft waves. The thin gown she wore did nothing to hide the generous curves beneath, and he forced his gaze away before his thoughts wandered somewhere inconvenient.
“Food,” he announced. “It’s not gourmet, but it should be edible.”
She leaned forward, sniffing cautiously. “What is it?”
“Grain porridge with protein supplements. The replicator’s database says it’s digestible by most humanoid species.” He shrugged. “I make no promises about taste.”
She took a tentative bite, chewing thoughtfully.
“It’s... actually not bad. Kind of like oatmeal with meat?”
“I’ll trust your assessment.” He settled into the seat next to her, pulling his own bowl closer. “Tajiri palates run different.”
“What are you eating?”
“Meat. Or at least the synthetic version of it.”
“Just meat?”
“Just meat.” He scooped up a piece with his fingers, ignoring the slight burning sensation. “We’re carnivores. Not as rigid as some species, but we function best on a protein-heavy diet.”
She watched him eat, her expression curious. “And that works for you?”
“Has so far.” He grinned around a mouthful. “Thirty-five years and counting.”
She smiled back at him, and he found himself cataloging the expression. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners and the slight dimple in her left cheek. The warmth that seemed to radiate from her despite everything she’d endured.
Dangerous thoughts,he reminded himself.Focus on the mission.
Ari stirred again, making a soft mewling sound, and Emma immediately went to pick her up.
“She’s hungry again.” She shifted the baby in her arms as she opened the box of protein powder and dipped her finger in it. “I don’t think she’d getting enough food this way. I wish I had a bottle.”
“Let me see what I can find.”
He rose, moving to the emergency supplies cabinet and rummaging through its contents. He found a flexible tube and a small pump mechanism, probably intended for transferring fluids in zero-gravity situations. Not ideal, but workable.
“The replicator should have nutrient formulas in its database,” he said, examining the tube. “If I can modify this pump to create a flow-control mechanism...”
“You’re going to build a baby bottle?”
“I’m going to attempt to build a baby bottle.” He pulled out a small knife and began cutting. “No promises on success.”
She watched him work, the baby sucking quietly on her finger. He was acutely aware of her gaze, tracking his movements with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
“You’re very...” She paused, searching for the word. “Resourceful.”
“Necessity breeds invention.” He sealed a connection with heat from a small torch, testing the seal. “When you grow up with nothing, you learn to make do with whatever’s at hand.”
“Growing up with nothing?”
He shouldn’t have said that. The words had slipped out, unguarded, and now she was looking at him with those warm brown eyes full of curiosity and something that might have been compassion.
“My childhood wasn’t exactly privileged,” he said carefully, focusing on his work. “My mother was... not wealthy. Everything she had came from my father and my father had no interest in providing for his bastard son.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He tested the pump mechanism, watching fluid flow smoothly through the tube. “It taught me useful skills. Self-reliance. Adaptability. The art of acquiring things through creative means.”
