Page 62 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"I talk a lot when I'm tired. You weren't supposed to actually pay attention to my 3 AM rambling." My fingers trace the precision lens.
"I always pay attention."
The simplicity of his statement hits me with unexpected force. My mouth goes dry.
I clear my throat and set the camera carefully aside. "Thank you. This will seriously upgrade our surveillance capabilities."
I scramble to my feet, needing movement to process the flutter in my stomach. "Let's get everything set up. I need to configure all these components into a functional system."
I transform the corner of his living room into my surveillance command center, naming each piece as I position it.
"Han goes here," I murmur, adjusting my right screen exactly where I need it. "And Leia needs to be exactly 27.5 inches from him for optimal signal triangulation." I measure the distance with my arms, eyeballing it with practiced precision.
Asher watches, head slightly tilted. "And I assume this one is Obi-Wan?" He points to the central monitor I haven't placed yet.
My hands freeze mid-connection. "How did you know that?"
"It's the main one. The mentor. Makes sense."
Something warm blooms in my chest. He's not just humoring me—actually learning my system. Understanding my chaos.
"Very impressive, Frost," I grin, reaching for a cable at the same moment he does.
Our fingers brush. A current races through my arm, my breath catches. His hand stills over mine, warm and calloused. For a moment, neither of us moves.
"You need to..." His voice sounds deeper.
"What?" I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
"Connect the blue cable to the signal booster first, not the red one."
"Oh." I blink, thrown by his technical correction. "You're right."
His lips curve slightly as he hands me the correct cable. "I've been watching you work."
The way he says it makes my skin prickle with awareness. Before I can respond, his phone buzzes. He checks the screen and steps back.
"It's Cole. I need to take this—final equipment configurations."
I nod, already sliding into hyper-focus as he moves away. My hands dart across keyboards, connecting systems, establishing protocols.
But my thoughts keep returning to the leftover heat where his fingers met mine, and how that mathematical, military mind of his somehow tracks which of my Star Wars characters goes where on my desk.
My fingers pause over the keyboard as the world outside my digital tunnel vision slowly returns. The command center we've built glows in the corner of Asher's living room, all systems operational. The late afternoon sunlight streams through the closest window, casting a harsh glare across Obi-Wan's screen.
I roll my shoulders and wince. According to my watch, it's after 6:00 PM.
"Five hours and seventeen minutes," Asher answers my unspoken question.
He moves with deliberate precision, adjusting each monitor by fractions to eliminate the sunlight's reflection. A bottle of water and two protein bars sit beside my keyboard. Untouched because I hadn't even registered their presence.
"You didn't tell me to take a break." I'm surprised. Most people constantly interrupt my flow, insisting I eat, drink, sleep; like I'm a child who needs reminding.
Asher's eyes remain on the monitors as he makes a final adjustment. "You were in your element. I recognize the zone."
Something warm unfurls in my chest. He understands.
"How's that?" he asks, stepping back from the monitors.
