Page 139 of After We Fall

My eyes widen at his audacity to ask an active serviceman for help with a mundane civilian task. Shaking my head in short, panicked movements, I say to Major Knox, “I—um, you don’t—”

“Dr. Sloan. Dr. Hayword.” Evelyn ambles to the group. “It’s nice to see you boys amongst the art this evening.” Her Southern accent seems amplified with the not-so-subtle dig.

I close my eyes and swallow down my acute discomfort.

The bizarre competitive nature between these professors is legendary in the fine arts department. Instead of acting like highbrow intellectuals, these three could break out in a barroom brawl at any moment. The only truce came after Evelyn’s husband died. For a few months after the funeral, her voice softened when she spoke of her colleagues.

“Of course we get out to support the arts. Our students as well.” Dr. Hayword stares down his nose at Evelyn. “I’m not sure what use you’ve made of yourself tonight, but we found Mizz Fielding the perfect military contact for her culminating project.”

Evelyn moves her focus from me to Michael, her eyes narrowing when they land on him.

I bite my lip, worried she’s going to transition from proud professor to mama bear. Her name might not be on my birth certificate, but she’s played the role of mother since the day she picked me up and brought me into her home.

She shoots her hand out to him, and they make quick introductions. “Is this true? Will you be helping Daphne?”

“I don’t believe I have enough information about the situation to make a decision.” He looks at me. “I PCSed to Fort Carson only a few days ago. I don’t know my on-post duties. I need to take the request under advisement.” His words may be stiff, but his reply is gracious considering his surprising position in the spotlight.

After two months of dead ends, I can’t help but hope he’s the one to put my proposal into action. But I realize it’s not simply the matter of my project.

This thoughtful, forthright man who exudes integrity is worth knowing.

With the attention of my professors, a steely gaze from Major Knox, and the weight of my looming deadline, I’m standing in a pressure cooker.

I sneak a glance at Evelyn.

She purses her lips and peers at me. There’s that protective mama bear.

And now I’m worried she can see right through the blush I know must cover my face.

One glimpse at my watch, and I think of the only feasible excuse I can under the scrutiny of my professors. Keeping a straight face, I say, “Well, we need to let Major Knox enjoy the rest of his evening. He’s got to get back to the Golden Bee at nine for the sing-along.”

Major Knox clears his throat, but I don’t dare look his way. After saying goodbye to Evelyn and my professors, I hold an arm toward the exit to usher him out of the conversation.

“You spell trouble,” he murmurs as we approach the ballroom doors.

“No.” I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek in a failed attempt to contain a grin.

“Yes. Whether it’s the Golden Bee or a spelling bee, you most definitely spell trouble.”

“Okay.” I giggle. “Yes. But only as far as staining your shirt and my professors putting you on the spot. If you go to the Bee for the sing-along, you’ll have so much fun that I will have redeemed myself.”

We step into the mezzanine, the ornate silky furniture and spectacular sparkling chandeliers reminding me I’m employed here but I don’t belong here.

He turns to me. “As I said, I don’t sing in public.”

“Are you telling me that when you go to a birthday party, you don’t even sing the happy birthday song?”

He stares blankly at me.

I hold a hand to my chest in feigned offense. “Even at a child’s birthday party?”

“I give good gifts.”

The painting he purchased for his mother flashes through my mind. Yes. He gives good gifts. Gifts that scream thoughtfulness and generosity without actually saying the words. What else is this man saying without words?

“I’m sorry my professors asked you to help. They mean well.” I clasp my hands together. “You are officially released from Daphne duty.”

“Daphne duty.” The edge of his mouth tips up just a notch. “I don’t remember being trained for that at ILE.”