Steamrolled Read Online Free PDF

pocketed the phone without a goodbye.
    Beside him Fyn twitched. Ric didn’t look too happy either.
    Don’t leave tracks anyone can follow.
    Carey grinned. “This place is amazing.”
    “Thank you.” She radiated pleased.
    Robert felt an unexpected negative reaction to this, which prompted an even more out of character response. He moved between them, his hand out. “Robert Clementyne.”
    Only after it was out of his mouth—and Ric cleared his throat—did it occur to him, they were supposed to go in without names, if at all possible, and use fake names if it wasn’t possible.
    “Clementyne.” A pause that felt weighted with something, then she continued, “That’ll look great in the first spot of the guest book.” She moved forward to take his outstretched hand.
    He felt a high level of anticipation, well out of proportion to the event. With no sign she reciprocated the anticipation, her palm connected with his, her fingers curling around to brush against the back of his hand. A jolt of something rocked through him, a flicker of her lashes indicating she felt it, too. Or he was delusional. He was probably delusional. Delusional had been his normal for most of his life. Why would she feel anything? She didn’t retreat, which meant he couldn’t, instead taking a half step closer, so he looked straight down into her bright, dark gaze.
    “Emily Babcock.”
    His world tilted twelve point-eight degrees off center, though he knew it was not possible. He was still able to wonder, needed to wonder to stay anchored in reality, if her name was a nod to Emelius Twitchet. It had been easy to find the museum listing on Google , once someone thought to look. Robert had not known about Google , so felt no guilt for the oversight. Google had been a place to start, but it had taken Ancestry.com to unravel over one hundred years of family relationships. Emelius was the only son, the last of the male Twitchet’s, but he’d had four sisters—all of whom had married more than once. And given birth to daughters. Eventually one of them married a Babcock, the other a Wilcox. Not tight with the main family, but still people in the business of steam engines. Was this place genetics or coincidence? A mix of both?
    All this ran through his brain alongside a mental path that was less clear, but more intense. This track noticed things like how smooth her skin looked in close proximity. This track noticed her red, red mouth and was fascinated by it. It looked soft. It looked kissable. He’d never thought about a girl this much before. He wished he could kiss her. He’d never kissed a girl. Shouldn’t want to change that now. He had a mission, the Delilah-infused part of him reminded with a mental tap of a foot. The nanites wanted the kiss. They liked new experiences. He felt inclined to go with the nanites. Maybe he liked new experiences more than he realized he did. Or maybe there was a small part of him that was a guy. Out of the range of scents hanging heavy in the air, he picked out one that must come from her, because it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. All of his education and IQ couldn’t give him the words to describe the sensation. It was.
    Emily, possibly on a different wavelength, looked past Robert, taking back her hand, her dark brows arching in a way he’d have called imperious, if anyone asked him. No one did, but his companions, reminded of their manners, responded with their names and then the two who also gave real ones looked politely horrified. This seemed to amuse her, though not in a way that felt unkind. Robert didn’t know if he was kind, but standing close to her, inhaling her scent into his lungs, he hoped he was.
    You let us stay.
    Robert didn’t remember having a choice about that, but they kept him out of crazy, so he was willing to take their thought for it.
    There was a pause, as she considered them and their request.
    “All of this is quite remarkable,” he said, in aid of her process.