Page 15 of Breathless Recruiter

An army of furry hell beasts could storm my office, and I’d still fixate on the way his lips pursed and pulled to one side. I wanted to ask about his beard and see if he had any tips to keep it from growing like a bush. It’d be an excuse to touch the hairs on his chin and?—

“What— Do you—” I stuttered as I spoke. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He gave a slight wave. The grin never faded. “I’m doing my rounds and thought I’d stop by.”

My desk had stacks of folders with hero profiles needing to be filed. Orion had a pep talk with the printer to bring her out of her depression. Now, we were all trying to get caught up on paperwork. I pushed the files to the side and gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk.

He wandered toward the desk before taking a detour to a bookshelf on the side of the room. With arms still across his chest, he leaned down to the single photograph on the bottom. I would have talked about my Earth Mom, but I couldn’t help but watch his backside protrude as he bent over.

“Is this your mum?”

“Ear— Mom,” I said. “She’s the one who found— adopted me.” I leaned back in my chair, soaking in this dashing bear of a man. I imagined wrapping my arms around his chest and molding to his body. Drew called it spooning, though Janet commented it always leads to forking. Dustin made me salivate, but I didn’t want to devour him… I think.

“Are you two close?” He lifted the picture, standing upright as he studied it. “I mean now.”

I nodded. “I talk to her every night. I tell her about the heroes I’ve met, and she tells me about her garden. She grows the bestest tomatoes. This year, she started a Coneflowers garden. I want to watch the dragonflies with her.”

Dustin eyed me before returning the picture to the shelf. “Dragonflies, huh?”

My smile showed teeth. “They’re pretty little creatures.” When I first stepped out of my stasis pod, I fell into a field filled with the tiny insects. I thought they were the species I had been sent to protect. Earth mom still joked about it.

Dustin flipped through the books on the second shelf, all sociology books and self-help manuals given to me by Kiki. I read the ones with pictures. The rest were there as a reminder of which planet I called home. Arthur approved the items in our offices, making sure nothing jeopardized our identities. Apparently, hanging my super suit on the coat rack was a dead giveaway. Now, I stashed it in my bottom drawer.

“What about you? What’s your thing?”

Had he discovered my identity? Did I shout we had an omega alert and hope Janet wrestled him to the floor before he announced my alter ego? My head bobbed back and forth as I stalled for time.

“I don’t see any hobbies.” Oh, hobbies. Laboring for pleasure. “You strike me as a…” He moved around my desk, taking the chair. He leaned back, rubbing his chin as he read me. “Video games?”

I shook my head. “Mom didn’t have a television.”

“Gym?”

I held up my arm, flexing so my biceps strained the material of my shirt. “This is just how I’m built.” Dustin flexed his arm and poked at his biceps.

“Consider me jealous.”

“You have good arms for a hu— guard.”

“I’m failing pretty bad at this.” Dustin had done anything but fail. If it kept him in my office talking, I’d drag out the conversation. “Any hints?”

“Does knitting count?”

“Like, with yarn?”

What else would I knit with? “It keeps my hands busy while I’m watching television. I make mittens. Want to see?”

I didn’t wait for an answer as I dove into my bottom drawer. Sitting on top of my suit, I had almost finished my newest project. I held up the multicolored yarn with needles sticking out. I couldn’t hide my excitement. Dustin reached out, taking the half-finished mitten as I quickly kicked the drawer shut.

“These are a little small for those paws.” It took a moment before I realized he meant my hands. Hands. Humans had hands, not paws.

“I’m making them for the kids at the orphanage.”

Dustin’s eyes jumped between me and the mitten. I hadn’t stayed in an orphanage when I arrived on Earth. I still related to the kids who didn’t have anybody to call mother or father. Growing up in the forest, I always asked Earth Mom if I could adopt a human. She’d smile with that laugh that sounded like the clock chimes. She claimed I was all the orphan she could handle.

“You make them for kids?”

“Yeah. Is that bad? I have almost fifty pairs to send.”

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