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“Your face.”
“I planned on taking a walk.”
“But then you’d be focusing on your problems, rather than your walking. Which brings us back to—”
“Insurance?”
“Insurance. Exactly. And the bruised—er—butt.”
She couldn’t hide her amusement. “You don’t use that word a lot, do you?”
“I’ve used it more in the past two minutes than I have the rest of my life, but practice makes perfect. Wait there while I grab those boxes and bags from the back seat. I have some things I need to take in.”
“I can help. Give me a couple of those.”
He did, and she glanced down and saw snacks, fruit and, judging from the clinking sound, there were a couple of bottles in the bottom.
Brodie headed for the door, his vision half obscured by the boxes he was holding.
He fumbled with the lock, and then the door opened and light flooded over the snow.
She followed him inside and dumped the bags. They were in a small open plan living room and kitchen. Huge windows overlooked the loch, and the room was dominated by a big sofa and very little else. She glanced at the kitchen area. “You want me to put this stuff away?”
“I can handle that.” He closed the door and gestured. “Sit down. Make yourself at home. Are you cold? Do you need warming up?” He coughed. “I mean, there are blankets—”
“I know what you mean.” For some reason she couldn’t tease him. “I’m warm, thanks. I hadn’t expected it to be warm.”
“I’ve rigged it up so that I can control the heating from the main lodge. And I was over here earlier. Put in a couple of hours after our reindeer trip. I’m not going to ask what you did. It obviously didn’t end well. Excuse me while I dump these boxes—” He walked toward a door and pushed it open with his elbow.
She was too intrigued not to follow. “Is this your office? Can I—Holy crap, Brodie.” She stopped in the doorway and glanced around her. Multiple computer screens lined the walls, all of them flickering with incomprehensible lines of code. “You could run a space program from here.”
“I need the processing power.” He put the boxes down and then grabbed a couple of unwashed mugs. “This is embarrassing. Didn’t know I’d be entertaining guests when I was here earlier. I was concentrating on something and didn’t clear up.”
There was a waste bin overflowing with paper, and more mugs abandoned on the floor. More sheets of paper, each covered in endless numbers written in his dark scrawl.
She didn’t care about the mess. She might not understand data analytics, but she understood focus.
“What’s this?” The only wall that wasn’t lined with monitors was a giant whiteboard covered in equations.
“I was figuring something out. I should fetch you a drink. You looked as if you needed one earlier. Are those more mugs?” He scooped them up so that they were all dangling from the fingers of one hand. “I swear they breed. I’ll wash them. I think I have a couple of new ones in the cupboard. Unused. If I promise to use those, can I tempt you to coffee? I know you like coffee.”
“Not this late in the day. Don’t worry. I’m fine.” There was a stack of papers next to a keyboard and she noticed the signature on one of them. “Doctor McIntyre?”
“Oh that’s just—” He dismissed it with a wave of his free hand. “PhD. Maths, not medicine.”
“Why don’t you call yourself Doctor?”
“I don’t know. Because I’m always afraid someone is going to ask me to save a life? Because the sight of blood makes me nauseous? Also, it sounds a little pretentious, don’t you think?”
“I do not. You’re obviously a very smart guy, Dr McIntyre.” But she knew that already of course. Smart. Kind. Sexy. She thought about the way he’d propelled her out of the house and into the car without hesitation.
“Can we stick to Brodie? Please.”
“I’ll try. Can’t promise.” She was too fascinated by her glimpse into his world. A table was pushed against the wall and on it was a half-built model of a spaceship. The complexity of it made her head ache. “So this is mission control. I knew it.”
He gave an awkward laugh. “Fiddling with tiny bricks helps me think.”
She turned to leave and caught her foot on something.
