Hearts Akilter by Catherine E. McLean

Author:Catherine E. McLean [McLean, Catherine E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Futuristic/Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Scarred Hero/Heroine
Amazon: B010VXLYPA
Goodreads: 25881218
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2015-08-04T16:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

Three weeks later

Marlee engaged the wrench, sending the bolt whirring into the base of Henry’s pincer-hand. She glanced at the wall clock above her workshop’s station. Fifteen minutes after her shift ended and no Deacon. Okay, so he said he might be a little late. She was hungry, going on ravenous.

Maybe a little ravenous for his company?

Well, that too. She liked being with him, but did he like being with her? He said he did, but why did he find excuses not to stay the night and have sex with her?

“Marlee!”

She startled and blurted out a sharp, “What?”

“The wrench ceased functioning twenty seconds ago.”

She removed the unit. “Okay, try the hand. Is it working up to specs?”

He flexed and spun each of the three fingers on the appendage. “Affirmative. Yes. All is within working parameters.”

“Great, and, Henry, please don’t put any more of your digits into a RoboBot’s mouth.”

“Puppy is not a RoboBot. It is a toy. A much beloved toy.”

“Yeah, a toy with the Bite Force Quotient of an uber-katachin.” She glanced at the pile of parts that had been Puppy. “Next time a kid throws a tantrum over getting an injection, don’t bribe him with anything he can smash and it goes berserk.”

“Affirmative. Yes. Duly noted.”

Swiveling her task chair, she deposited the wrench in its holder on the wall. When she turned back to face Henry, she checked the clock. Five more minutes had gone by and no Deacon.

Her stomach grumbled.

She was hungry and shouldn’t wait much longer.

“Marlee, four times while I have been here you have looked at the clock. Is Deacon late for your date?”

“It’s not a date, just supper at The Mall Bistro.”

“You do not look as if you are eager for Deacon to appear. Has he displeased you?”

“No, nothing like that.” She averted her gaze and studied her chipped fingernails.

“Marlee?”

“What?”

“I have concluded something troubles you. Must I quiz you until I ascertain your malady?”

“I don’t have a malady, and I don’t need amateur psychoanalysis.”

“You are being sarcastic, are you not?”

She met his serene, glass-eyed gaze. “No, not sarcastic. I guess I’m irritated with myself and letting my imagination create angsting horrors.”

“About what precisely?”

Did she dare confide in Henry?

The situation needed to be resolved. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t, and who better than Henry to see things logically? Analyze her quandary? Reach a sensible conclusion?

“Marlee? Please say something.”

She needed advice. That’s all there was to it. “Okay. I’ll lay it on the line. I like—really, really—like Deacon.”

“I have drawn that conclusion, but there is something else, is there not?”

She said quietly, “We haven’t had sex.”

“Is sex with Deacon important to you?”

“I like being seduced. I like foreplay. I like sex.”

“And Deacon does not?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. We kiss. We cuddle. Twice we’ve walked the conservatory gardens and talked all night. He helped me get a nice sofa bed and anchor it to the decking of my quarters, but all we do is sit on it. No sleeping together. No sex.” She sat up straighter and confessed her worst fear.

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