Chapter 6

"Reason?" he asked.

"Ever wondered how regular people spend their weekends?" I replied.

I opened my phone's photo album and showed Lucas the pictures Yvonne had sent me.

"Waiting in line for an hour for influencer-recommended coffee, sobbing over fictional characters at the movies, blowing half a month's salary on blind boxes... These things might seem utterly illogical, but they're precisely the core of emotional experience."

Lucas zoomed in on the photo with two fingers as if examining some alien specimen. "Why would they do this?"

"That's because it makes them happy."

I closed my tablet. "Nine tomorrow morning. Wear something casual."

His lips twitched. "Casual clothes?"

That was when it hit me.

I'd never seen Lucas out of a suit.

I took a quick peek into his wardrobe, and the results were grim.

There were expensive suits, ties, and no T-shirts.

"I'll handle it," I said.

I then pulled out my phone to place an order. "Height, six feet two. Waist—"

"How did you know my height?" Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"Employee medical records."

I lied effortlessly. In truth, I'd only figured out his height because, when I helped him up earlier, the top of my head had just brushed his chin.

"I need to measure your shoulder width," I said.

As the measuring tape encircled Lucas' shoulders, memories of the sunroom suddenly assailed me.

The warmth of those scars on his back still seemed to linger on my fingertips.

My fingers accidentally brushed his nape, and he jerked away like he'd been scalded.

"Don't touch my gland," Lucas said icily.

"Sorry," I said.

I quickly jotted down the measurements. "An Alpha's sensitive gland... Noted."

When Lucas turned around, we nearly ended up nose-to-nose.

Sunlight slanted across his lashes, casting delicate shadows on his cheek.

I suddenly noticed that his irises weren't pure black at all. They were incredibly deep blue, the exact shade of the Blue Jacaranda in the sunroom.

Looking down at me, Lucas said, "Dr. Cook, you're spacing out."

"I'm just working on your treatment plan," I answered.

Stepping back, I added, "See you tomorrow, Mr. Shaw."

As I stepped out of the Shaw Corporation building, my phone buzzed.

Yvonne spammed me with screaming emojis and texted: [Are you buying clothes for Tyrant Shaw? Are you playing a dress-up game?]

I replied: [It's called exposure therapy.]

However, frankly, I wasn't so sure myself.

Whenever Lucas talked about ordinary people, his confusion was palpable. It was as if he were discussing an entirely different species.

I told myself I really wasn't supposed to find that amusing.

*****

The next morning, I barely recognized Lucas at our meeting spot.

A crisp white cotton tee hugged his broad shoulders and lean waist, with fitted jeans sculpting the long lines of his legs.

Of course, if one could overlook the look on his face, which practically suggested he was in discomfort, Lucas looked every inch the top male model.

He didn't bother with small talk. The moment he saw me, he said, "You're two minutes late."

"Normal people usually wait a bit for dates."

With that, I handed him a drink. "Want to try?"

Lucas took a cautious sip, immediately frowning. "Too sweet."

I grinned and said, "Caramel macchiato with extra sugar, human joy in a cup."

Pointing across the street at the coffee shop, I said, "First stop of the day."

The line at the coffee shop snaked out the door.

Lucas stood at the very end of the line, radiating the kind of energy that screamed he was seriously considering buying the whole damn place and sending everyone home.

The two young ladies in front kept glancing back at Lucas, murmuring, "Doesn't he look like that guy from the business magazine?"

"Lower your head," I said.

I stood on tiptoe and plopped a baseball cap onto his head. "You're drawing too much attention."

To my surprise, Lucas actually remained perfectly still, letting me smooth the wisps of hair from his forehead.

When I was up close, his scent, cedar with a crisp hint of mint, washed over me.

Lucas abruptly asked, "Why would people stand in line?

"How inefficient."

I pointed to the excited couple taking selfies ahead and said, "It's not about the coffee.

"It's the joy of sharing anticipation."

Lucas was deep in thought.

When it was our turn, Lucas studied the menu with the same grave expression he'd wear reviewing an M&A deal.

"White coffee... Flat white... What's the difference between these?" he asked.

I stifled a laugh and said, "It's like the difference between acquiring Company A and Company B.

"I'd recommend the iced cappuccino."

He gave a solemn nod before saying to the barista, "I'll have that. Extra sugar."

Lucas held his coffee and stared at the drops on the cup, like he was analyzing a financial report.

He mimicked me, took a big sip, and his eyes went wide.

"Like it?" I asked.

"Way too sweet," Lucas griped, but he still went in for another sip.

At the park, I pulled out the breadcrumbs I'd bought at the convenience store. "Time to feed the pigeons."