Page 9 of Space Crush
“Ian’s married.”
Releasing Ian’s hand, I frown at Evan. “I’m sorry?”
Evan shrugs. “Just saying.”
Ian chuckles again. “Hopefully I’ll get a chance to introduce my wife, Trish, to you sometime, Kaley.”
Wondering why he would want to, seeing as we just met, I simply nod.
He points to Evan. “And I’ll tag up with you Monday about the panel changes.” Stepping back, Ian walks past the rover and back toward the festival, pausing at the corner. “And just in case you two were curious, no one else is in the building.”
With that, Mr. America departs, leaving me very much alone with the man who thinks I smell nice after a sweaty afternoon in a ball pit.
But before he can turn those brown puppy-dog eyes on me, I backhand him on the arm. “Just what in the world have you been telling people about me?”
FIVE
MANUAL HANDLING
Evan
“You owe me.”Bodie crosses his arms as I park the LTV halfway between where I high-jacked it and Building Ten, where I left a pouting Kaley.
“No I don’t.” I jump off, pointing to his wife, her glistening rhinestones making her easily discernible as she tugs off her platform sneakers, readying to launch herself into the bouncy house with all the kids. “I’m babysitting, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Bodie climbs in the LTV, and I begin the trek back to Building Ten. “Good luck.”
“I’m gonna need it,” I mutter.
I’m pretty sure Ian was trying to embarrass me with what he said, but if Kaley has spent the last week worrying over whether or not the two of us are serious, I don’t need her spiraling and thinking I was gossiping about her.
I used my security card to get her in the building, which thanks to Ian I knew was empty. But seeing as I’d have my ass handed to me if I left the LTV unattended, I could only point Kaley in the direction of my office on the second floor mezzanine before jumping back in the rover and driving it back.
Not wanting to keep her waiting, I break into a jog.
* * *
Still jogging,I crest the top of the stairs just as Kaley’s head peeks out of my office doorway.
“Oh good.” Her worried expression clears when she sees me. “It’s you.” She beckons me into my own office. “I found the coveralls.”
I dip my head, hiding my smile while I walk down the narrow hallway in front of my office. The mezzanine overlooks the rest of the open-plan, three-story tall building, which, at over a hundred yards long, is full of oversized machinery and projects, both large and small in scale, dotted around the main floor in various stages of production.
Entering my office, I pull up at the sight of Kaley in royal blue coveralls.
Seeing my expression, her eyes fall to the worn yet clean gray jumpsuit I threw over my shoulder on my way up—one of the many that both the technicians and system engineers wear over their clothes when working downstairs. “What are those?”
“These”—I toss the gray fabric onto my cluttered desk—“are the coveralls I told you I’d get you.”
“Then what are these?” She runs a hand down the pristine, royal blue canvas, dotted with patches I’ve sewn onto it over the years.
“Those”—I nod to her hand, grazing over my ISS Expedition 50 patch—“are a future Mitchell family heirloom.”
NASA does this thing where they design a patch for each mission, flight, and project. So just as astronauts have a patch for each shuttle mission they fly, there are also patches for non-astronauts that highlight various missions and projects they’ve worked on.
Each patch Kaley’s wearing—Artemis Lunar Terrain Vehicle, CanadArm2, Robonaut and more—I’ve collected and sewn on to create a sort of story of my career at NASA.
It’s telling that I’m not the least upset over Kaley wearing what I’ve kept hidden in my lower file cabinet drawer, close by, but never worn myself.
