“I think the injury is worth a bonus. You’ve earned it.”
“That, and saving millions of people’s lives?”
The Professor chuckled. “That was part of the main payment.” He picked up the case. “Always a pleasure, Miz Carson, but I have to hand this over to some people.”
“Sure thing, Professor.”
Time to go home and take a long, well-deserved bath.
Chapter Twelve
Peyton checked his hair in his rearview mirror one last time before stepping out into the parking lot, a smile on his face. Between Shay’s French job and fighting off hackers probing the net, he’ had no opportunities to follow up on any of his dating leads. Now, with a few free days and no threats, it was time to get his dating game on.
He sighed and looked down.
Is this a mistake? I mean, the last time I tried this it was a disaster, but here I am again, going out on a date with a woman who thinks I’m a random IT guy and not a research assistant for a tomb raider who used to be a killer and faked her own death.
Am I just setting myself up for pain?
He chuckled. How would women react if he added, “Faked my own death to escape a hitman” on his profile? All the advice sites always said a man should lead with his most interesting quality.
Maybe it’s not a big deal. After all, everyone lies a little when they start dating. I just need her to not be as paranoid as Tricia was.
Peyton frowned.
Also need a better story. Avoid bullshit about tech start-ups or anything that’ll lead to questions about stuff that’s different from my normal day-to-day work. Just need to spin my normal job in a less obvious way.
This can work. I deserve it. I do a good job, and I don’t want to date some strange criminal woman from Dante’s or the Black Sun.
Peyton nodded to himself. He could do this, and there was no reason he shouldn’t.
If Shay of all people gets to have a life complete with friends and a boyfriend, then I want that, too. Well, not a boyfriend, not even Captain Muscles Brownstone.
He slapped his cheeks to clear his head and headed toward the gastropub in a cocky strut. A pale, skinny woman with dark hair and dark glasses stood near the front, looking around. She stopped and focused on him.
Nice. Very nice.
It was Amber, his date. She looked exactly like her picture from the dating app, all the way down to the same navy-blue maxi dress.
Peyton had worn his powder blue suit for his most recent dating photos, but had gone for something a little more casual for this date: khaki shorts and a shirt that looked like a skull from a distance, but a closer examination revealed it was composed of several overlapping black and white images of cats.
He wasn’t sure if it told people he was quirky or psychotic. He knew what Shay would think but, he’d find out soon enough how a normal woman would react.
“Hey,” Peyton offered. “Nice to finally meet you in person.” He extended his hand.
Amber smiled and gave his hand a gentle shake. “Glad to see you’re not some creeper who used a fake picture.”
“The same.”
Peyton stopped himself from wincing. It wasn’t the smoothest line in the world.
Amber laughed. “You never know anymore.”
“Yep.”
“I mean, who does that, right? Like I wouldn’t walk away if I show up to my date and find out that he’s been lying. Being truthful is important in all…” She ran a hand through her hair. “Guess I’m babbling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“No, it’s okay. I agree. I can’t stand liars.” He let out a little chuckle, hoping it didn’t come off as nervous. “No reason to worry.”
Yeah. Like lying about what I do for a living? Keep it together. This is just about having some fun, not trying to take her to Vegas tomorrow for a quickie wedding. Also, not going to try and rush things and take her home tonight.
This can work. I can have some fun if I don’t overthink it.
Peyton hurried over to open the door for her. “Your table awaits, my lady.”
“Thanks.”
They headed inside and found an empty table. Light jazz played over the speakers at a reasonable volume. Only half the tables were filled, and the background chatter remained light. It made for good ambiance when combined with the music.
A waitress descended on them like a hawk as soon as they sat. After ordering a few cocktails, the two smiled across the table at each other.
“So,” Peyton began, his hands folded in front of him, “you’re a physicist. That’s got to be interesting. Probing the fundamental mysteries of the universe and all that.”
Amber laughed and waved a hand. “Oh, is that what you thought from my profile? I can see how it’s confusing, but I don’t want to misrepresent myself.” She bit her lip. “Now I’m really embarrassed.”
“You’re not a physicist?”
“I…” The woman looked down. “Sorry.”
“No, no. Not a big deal. It’s not like I have some big impressive job. I’m just a computer guy. Great at my job, but still just a computer guy.”
Amber looked up, hope in her eyes. “Same here. When I said I worked on computational physics, that’s true. It’s just that I don’t do the research. I work with the physicists in the department who need help refining simulations for their work and developing custom simulation code for the scientists who are a little more clueless about programming in general.”
Peyton nodded. “Sounds to me like you still have to know a lot about physics, though. It’s not like they can give you a couple of lines about what they want, and you come up with a complicated simulation.”
Scarlet spread on the woman’s pale cheeks. “I guess that’s true when you talk about it that way.”
“Of course, it’s true.”
“What about you, Peyton? You mentioned computers before and on your profile, but you didn’t talk about the kind of work.”
