Chapter 6

Henry froze mid-reach at the sharp voice.

He turned slowly. Jennie had already crossed the room with quick steps, her eyes locked on the plant in front of him.

“This is datura,” she said. “Touching its leaves directly can cause poisoning.”

Henry withdrew his hand, his expression darkening.

He hadn’t expected to see her here again especially like this.

Jennie finished speaking and finally looked up at the man standing before her.

He wore a plain white T-shirt and light denim jeans. The casual outfit did nothing to soften the imposing aura he carried. His features were distractingly handsome, but the cool, distant expression he wore made him feel out of reach.

The director had said no outsiders were allowed in the research wing. The facility cultivating rare species was even more strictly controlled.

So he must be a researcher here.

Jennie wasn’t someone who judged based on looks, but at this moment, something about his face tugged at her thoughts.

When the director walked her in earlier, a man in a business suit had rushed over to speak with him. The director had apologized briefly, pointed her down the hall, and said, “Dr. Lawson, I’m so sorry. Follow this corridor straight ahead. Someone will be waiting inside.”

And that someone appeared to be him.

The lab was large, its outer section filled with shelves of growing plants. The true workspace lay deeper inside.

Collecting herself, Jennie stepped toward him and held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Jennie Lawson. The director invited me to take a look at the issues with the new specimens.”

Henry didn’t take her hand.

His gaze never once left her face. It traveled from her eyes to the bridge of her nose and finally to her lips.

Soft. Flushed. Glossy.

Fragments from last night rushed back without warning.

The taste of her.

The warmth of her.

The way her breath had hitched against his mouth.

He stared openly, lost.

Jennie’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air for several seconds. When he still didn’t respond, only staring at her with those unreadable dark eyes, she withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.

“Where are the new specimens?” she asked calmly. “The director said they were having issues.”

Henry blinked back to focus. “Should be inside.”

Something about him felt odd, but Jennie was too focused on her work to dwell on it.

She nodded and walked past him toward the glass greenhouse deeper inside.

She took several steps before realizing he wasn’t following. She stopped and looked back, her brows lifting slightly. “You’re not coming?”

Henry remained where he was, his tall frame casting a shadow across the tiled floor.

When he still didn’t speak, Jennie added, “It’s better if you come with me. You can explain anything I need to know. That way I can help you solve the problem faster and make your later work easier.”

Henry stood silent for a moment before striding toward her.

He closed the distance with only a few long steps. Now they walked side by side, separated by only half an arm’s length.

The moment they entered the working area, Jennie’s entire demeanor shifted.

Professional. Sharp. Commanding.

“The substrate ratio is off,” she said, examining a wilting fern. “Humidity is too high. The roots can’t breathe.”

She slipped on white gloves and turned slightly. “On the tool bench. Get me a sterilized pruning shear.”

Henry had no idea what any of the equipment was for, but he still followed her instructions. He found the shears and handed them over without hesitation.

“Collect soil samples. Three grams each. Label them separately.

“Roll that machine over here. I need its data.

“Log this. Zone A, specimen three. Irregular yellow spotting on the leaves. Likely fungal. Isolate it.

He didn’t understand a single technical term she used, but somehow he became the perfect assistant.

Everything she asked for, he delivered immediately.

Wherever she pointed, his eyes followed.

They fell into an effortless, uncanny rhythm.

Once the initial inspection was complete, Jennie peeled off her gloves and surveyed the neatly reorganized racks with visible satisfaction.

She turned to him with a small smile. “I didn’t expect you to be this good. You’re thorough, and you don’t waste time asking pointless questions. You just saved us a lot of time.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He had been praised a thousand times in his life, but flattery from others never meant anything to him.

This simple, sincere compliment landed differently.

Strangely so.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Jennie had already turned back to continue working.

The greenhouse was significantly hotter than the outer lab, designed to mimic the plants’ natural environment. Within minutes, a sheen of sweat gathered along her hairline.

She didn’t seem to notice. She adjusted parameters and checked readings with total focus.

A bead of sweat rolled from her temple, tracing down the curve of her cheek. It slid along her slender neck and disappeared in the hollow of her collarbone, leaving a faint glimmer behind.

Last night slammed back into Henry’s mind without warning.

Her trembling lashes.

Her tear-streaked cheeks.

Her soft voice breaking on little pleas.

The way he had bent to kiss the tears from her skin, telling her again and again to breathe, that it wouldn’t hurt soon.

And how obedient she had been.

Henry swallowed hard. His eyes darkened, stormy and unreadable.

Jennie finished recording the last set of data and let out a satisfied breath, turning to tell him they were almost done.

Her gaze collided with his.

He was watching her again.

The same unsettling way he had been ever since she walked in.

The small smile on her lips faded. Irritation sparked in her chest before she could stop it.

She shut the clipboard with a soft snap. “Do you think this work is boring?”

Henry’s brows drew together.

She stepped closer, lifting her chin to look him directly in the eye. “Do you think tending to plants is pointless and meaningless? That I’m making a big deal out of nothing? If you dislike this field, that’s your choice. But since you’re here, you should at least respect the work.”

She braced herself for his mockery or some dismissive apology.

Years with William had taught her exactly how belittlement sounded.

But Henry only watched her quietly. After a moment, the turbulence in his gaze settled into something steady and deep.

His voice was low and unhurried when he spoke. “I don’t think it’s boring. I don’t think it’s meaningless. And I don’t think you’re overreacting.”

He held her eyes. “I think you’re impressive.”