“Shoot.” She followed his glance up to the camera. “Shoot, shoot, shoot.”
She rolled off him and snapped to her feet in a well-balanced move that confounded him. A minute ago, she was fainted on the floor, now she was the picture of perfect health. Better, in fact. She appeared determined, strong, and ready.
“Is there a problem with the cameras?” he asked.
Sister Mary’s focus narrowed on him.
“Look,” Flint continued, “I won’t say anything. You can trust me, Sister. You once told me that you were given up by your parents. That you were an orphan. I know trust must be hard to come by, but I’m telling you the truth. I won’t say anything.”
She frowned. “When did I say that?”
“A few months ago, during one of our coffee breaks, I was telling you how my mother was giving me a hard time about—I can’t even remember—but you said the fact that she wants me in her life is a good start and you mentioned you weren’t wanted by yours. Are you embarrassed about having epilepsy?”
“Yes. That’s it. Epilepsy. It’s a condition Biolum Industries won’t look favorably on, and—”
Flint held up his hand. “Say no more. I got your back.”
“You have my back?”
“Yeah sure, I mean, I won’t tell anyone and… if you want, I could”—he leaned in to whisper—“wipe the camera footage so no one knows.”
“You can do that?” Her tone sounded like no one had ever done something nice for her before.
“Yeah, sure, give me a computer and a screwdriver and I can do almost anything.”
A broad grin split her face, transforming her features into pure perfection. She let out a sigh of relief and then hit the emergency button on the wall with her fist. “Great. I would really appreciate that, thank you.”
Flint nodded, but his mind caught on the way she’d punched that button. Confident, well aimed… she wasn’t even looking. Maybe this was why he allowed himself to feel the way he did when around her; she acted nothing like a nun. But, then again, he knew jack about them and he was probably projecting what he wanted to believe. He had to stop torturing himself.
As the elevator arrived at the top level of the building, the Sister turned to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. She tipped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, lingering longer than socially acceptable. Electricity zinged from her lips down to curl his toes.
“Thank you, Flint. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She blushed. “Maybe you were right about us. Just a little.”
The door pinged open, and she left.
Well, shit. That was definitely not imagined. That was flirt.
He held the door open. “So… coffee at ten?”
She sent a cryptic smile over her shoulder.
“So, that’s a yes?” he asked.
Sister Mary Margaret kept walking toward reception.
Flint stood there, frozen, until the elevator doors started closing again. Remembering the camera and his promise, he raced toward his work area, whizzing past reception without another thought. He didn’t stop by Barry’s lab bench where body parts and weird animals grew in large glass cylinders, and he raced past the genetics lab full of test tubes and Petri dishes. Finally, he pushed into the workshop area where drills whirred and soldering irons sizzled, leaving an acrid fragrance in the air. His workstation was the furthest from the entrance. Nothing behind him but the window and a devastating drop to the city floor below. Perfect.
It wasn’t until he placed his satchel bag on his work desk that he wondered, why the fuck would a nun be afraid of someone discovering her epileptic fit?