Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Was I talented? No. Was I gifted? Not particularly. But I’d learned a long time ago that being “different” was my superpower.
And I’d learned to recognize that difference in others. Like the professor.
On paper, we had nothing in common but Raine. But I suspected that Professor Creighton lacked the conformity gene too.
The clues were all over the room. Not only was it packed with books, artifacts, drawings, and maps of old-time civilizations, it was littered with the remnants of days’ worth of to-go meals, empty coffee cups on the file cabinets, jackets, sweaters, and umbrellas. And get this—there was a cot in the corner with a blanket and pillow. This dude loved his job so much that he fucking lived here!
Christ, this was bad.
Alistair Creighton was not makeover material. He was a dedicated geek. A.k.a, the nerd version of my proud rainbow gladiator. We were two sides of the same coin…with currency that was only valid in specific circles. I couldn’t Eliza Doolittle him. I couldn’t do anything…except what I was being paid to do—escort a British brainiac who favored UPS shades of brown to Paris. Oh, joy.
Note to self: read the fine print, honey.
2
ALISTAIR
What a peculiar creature.
I spotted Winnie on the pavement outside of St. Pancras Station, jostling the blue bag on his shoulder as he raced toward me, pulling two large suitcases behind him. A lock of raven hair fell over his forehead, partially covering his hazel eyes, which appeared to have been painted a cobalt hue that complemented his long emerald coat. I dare say, he resembled a beautiful peacock. Truly lovely to behold. And very colorful.
Truth be told, I was rather in awe of Winnie Rodriguez. I’d never met anyone quite like him. Of course, I rarely strayed far from work. If I was in London, I was at the museum. If I was in Oxford, I was at the university. A trip to Paris was quite extraordinary. Brilliant city and all, but I didn’t travel outside the UK unless it was important.
And this conference was important. There was much to discuss between the recent archeological dig in Saqqara, new developments in digitized aerial photography, and a ton of artifacts found in the necropolis on the Nile.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world. As a leading expert in Egyptology, I’d been asked to speak at the weeklong event. I knew myself well, though. Shorter trips cost valuable research time…more so than longer ones. It was a matter of efficiency. I concentrated better if I stayed in one location for a month.
And Paris was always a good idea. Or so I’d heard.
I’d taken a six-month sabbatical from the university to finish the book I’d promised my agent for the Oxford Press, but I rarely took time away from the British Museum. It was my main office, and there were far too many exciting things happening. Like the fresh new batch of religious artifacts I’d received from my colleague in Egypt on Tuesday.
My team could handle preliminary studies, and Raine would take over in the lab when he returned from his trip, and— Oh, dear. That’s right. Raine wasn’t coming with me to Paris.
Winnie Rodriguez was taking his place.
Now I’d admit that I wasn’t the most socially aware individual on the planet, but based on our one formal meeting, I had a few doubts about my new assistant.
You see, Winnie was very…distracting.
“I don’t think it will work, Raine,” I’d lamented via a last-ditch phone call after yesterday’s meeting.
Raine had sounded genuinely confused. “Why not?”
Fair question. I’d erroneously assumed Winnie would be a carbon copy of Raine, and he most definitely was not. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a good reason.
Winnie had been charming and friendly, he’d asked about my research and had claimed to be excited to assist me in France. I had no reason to complain, other than…my pulse had accelerated at an alarming rate the moment he’d stepped into the room.
I’d thought it was a mild reaction to his cologne until I’d gotten my first close-up look at the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. Technically, I’d seen Winnie from afar at Raine’s soiree a couple of years ago, but I hadn’t formally met him. He’d been surrounded by friends—a social butterfly to my reluctant hermit. I hadn’t been brave enough to introduce myself. And there’d been no point since we’d never cross paths again.
Now here he was.
Winnie was truly…stunning—tall and willowy, colorful and confident. He exuded that unintentionally intimidating air of someone who was supremely self-aware. And my God, he wore eyeliner with the panache of an ancient Egyptian aristocrat.
“He’s not academically minded,” I’d stated after a long pause.
“That shouldn’t matter on this trip. Think of Winnie as a companion who can organize your calendar for you.”
“I don’t know…”
“Give him a chance, Professor,” Raine had cajoled. “Winnie will take good care of you. I promise.”