But it wasn't just the books. It was her eyes. He recognized the look in them. The one that said they'd seen more than they should. The one that pleaded with him to help her, even as she'd told him she'd handle it on her own.
He turned the truck onto her street and lowered the volume on Nina. It was a pretty neighborhood. Even by the light of all the little solar lamps that illuminated the pathways up to front doors, he could see that the lawns were greener than should be possible with the drought watch in effect. Wealth. It made people feel like they were above the restrictions and laws the common man faced. It irritated him, like it had the night of the fundraiser he'd attended. Yet he'd felt compelled to donate after Louisa's persuasive presentation. Finding a cure for the disease was more important than worrying about who was donating the dollars. What did people's motivations matter as long as the charity benefited?
His tension eased, though, when he saw Louisa's yard, which was filled with plants that he'd bet his ass were drought resistant, given her clear knowledge of plants. Louisa North was a complicated woman.
He pulled his truck up onto the curb and killed the engine. There was an outside light turned on by the front door, but he didn't see any lights on inside. Perhaps she'd taken him at his word and gone to bed. For a moment he considered texting to see if she was awake, but he decided to hop out of the truck and knock first. The wooden door was weathered beneath his knuckles and the sweet smell of lavender greeted him.
Silence clung to the air until he heard feet pad across a tiled floor. There was the sound of a chain being unlocked.
"Six," she said breathlessly, looking at him through those long bangs of hers.
Okay, the whole tightening in his chest could go away because there was absolutely nothing sexy about the loose gym shorts she wore. And yes, it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra underneath that tank because, Christ … nipples … but he could be professional. He tried to convince his cock that there was nothing to see here, like a Jedi mind trick, but it didn't work. Acting independently, it had fully decided there was plenty to take in.
"Hey, Lou," he said, his voice a little gruffer than normal. He coughed to clear his throat, and Louisa kicked out a hip as she waited for him to pull his shit together. The move raised her top an inch, revealing a narrow band of skin that looked soft enough to lick, which really didn't help the discomfort he felt in his jeans. "I wanted to come out and check on you. Learn more about what's going on, see if there isn't something I can help you with."
"I appreciate that." She stepped back and ushered him into the hallway. "I'm not particularly good with … company," she said quietly.
He couldn't imagine what that must be like. His own outgoing nature had been the only thing he could count on when he'd had to move as often as he did, fit in with new teams, and make friends in the places he was deployed. "You're doing just fine," he said as he entered her home.
The hallway was large but sparse. Pale yellow walls were decorated with framed pictures of vintage technical drawings of insects. There were lithographic plates of butterflies, bees, and grasshoppers. They were unusual yet strangely compelling. Kind of like their owner.
"Many of them are from Otto Staudinger's Catalog der Lepidopteren des palaearctischen Faunengebietes. It's the standard work of reference for Lepidoptera."
The random stuff this woman knew. "Lepidoptera?"
"You know, the groupings of nearly two hundred thousand species of moths and butterflies. It's a highly organized insect structure. Carl Linnaeus, a Swedish botanist, came up with the term from the Greek words-"
"How do you know all this shit?" he asked.
Louisa tensed, and he wished he'd just let her talk. "Sorry," she said with a shrug.
"No, seriously. How on earth can you remember all this stuff?"
"Eidetic memory, I guess."
"Eidetic?"
"Never mind," she said, and headed toward a closed door. "Can I get you a drink? Beer? Wine?"
Well, crap. That had gone well.
"Sure, beer would be good if you have some."
He followed her into a kitchen of the brightest blue. Wooden shelves lined one wall. He was no expert, but china that looked like it came from one of those expensive stores lined the shelves, like the kind Cabe's fiancée had placed on their wedding registry before … well … he shook his head. China rimmed in silver sat next to plates like the ones he'd picked up for nothing at IKEA. And mixed in were pottery-style plates in vibrant colors that could have come from any street market in Mexico.