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His intense examination of the notes laid to the side set my anxiety spiking.
“This is what you work on at night?”
“Yes, I’m sort of… a little bit of a chemist.”
He jerks so fast his neck cracks. “How sort of, kind of, a little bit?”
“My degree from Vanderbilt is in Chemistry with a minor in Botanical Science.”
“What is all this?” He spreads his arm out.
“I’m working on formulas for a new line of products.”
“You doing this alone?”
“My dad is a Chemist and Biologist as well.”
He jolts again. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Don’t let the gruff, rough around the edges, motorcycle man image fool you. He’s actually the head of R&D for the Alabama Department of Agriculture.”
“Are you ashamed of that?”
“Not at all.”
“Are you ashamed of this?” He gestures to my work.
“No.”
His hands go to his hips and he looks around again, his face giving nothing away as he works his bottom lip through his teeth.
“Fuck me walking. Gorgeous, generous, kind, so sweet my damn stomach aches, and a goddamn genius.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t finish that statement, Rowan. That fucking douchebag know any of this?”
I shake my head slowly. “This is a piece of me that is very personal. He didn’t get it.”
“The girls?”
He already knows the answer, but I shake my head anyway.
“Just me?”
“You and my parents.”
“You trust me with this?”
“Yes.”
He blows out a breath, glancing at the ceiling. “Get your bag, Rowan.”
My mood sinks. “Are you mad?”
His head snaps to me. “Hell no, I’m seconds from losing control and fucking you on this table. Unless you want to ruin all your hard work, we need to get to my house.”
I see it then, the glow in his eyes, the muscles in his forearms straining as he clenches his hands on his hips, the hard lines of his jaw. This means something to him. I move to step forward and he growls.
