The Silent Ones [✔️] (#2 in the Chilvati Series)

THIRTY-TWO

"I hear she's a bit of a loner," another of his other companions proffered.

"Kind of like Morris—the way he disappears into that little room of his," the only woman in their group muttered.

Bruce's head did a quick snap back. "He disappears?"

"Yeah," the woman scoffed. "You go in to talk to him, and poof, he's gone. Once I timed it. I had to wait forty-five minutes before he came out."

What in the hell does he do in there for forty-five minutes? Bruce wondered.

"I heard," the eagle eye added, his concentration still on Claire, "that she turned down offers of teaching positions from two high-ranking medical schools in order to come here."

Wow, Bruce thought. Although it didn't surprise him. Claire was well-known for her ability to recognize symptoms, no matter how obscure or irrelevant they might seem to the patient. She was smart, proficient, confident, compassionate, dedicated . . .

And she wore that professional demeanor like a buttoned up lab coat.

"I'll see you guys later . . ." Bruce untangled long legs from under the cafeteria-style bench and picked up his tray.

After turning it in, he headed over to Claire and straddled the bench to sit beside her. As he stared at her delicate profile, she stiffened, and he sensed he was about to get the push off. Then she turned her head and saw it was him.

"Oh . . . it's only you," she said, her shoulders sagging.

"Way to slap down a man's ego."

She smiled. "Yours could use a little slapping down."

Their working relationship had improved, had grown from one of tension to one of tolerance. In other words, he worked at being charming and she, for the most part, tolerated him.

He had tried his damndest to get her to step outside of the clinic, inviting her to accompany him to the gym, challenging her to a game of ping pong at the recreation building, asking her to join him for dinner. Each time she had made an excuse. Even a walk to get a cup of coffee together had been refused for chrissakes.

If he were smart, he would just give up on her, let her isolate herself with her test tubes, reports, and medical journals.

The problem was, Bruce didn't want to give up on her.

It wasn't her looks, although she was beautiful. It wasn't the challenge, despite the urge to toss her over his shoulder. And it sure as hell wasn't her personality, because most of the time she drove him crazy.

No, it was . . . he was— Ahh hell, he respected her. It was as simple as that.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

She looked around as if expecting someone to call her out at any moment. "The maintenance guys are fixing that leak in the lab's sink."

"No, why are you here . . . in Afghanistan? I heard you were offered teaching positions back home."

She frowned and stared down at the tray, clearly not happy about being the subject of gossipy discussions.

Good one, Morgan, he thought. Way to push her back into her shell. Hoping to ease the effect, he added, "Sorry, it was just mentioned in passing. You don't have to—"

"My parents were both teachers," she blurted. "High school. Science. They're retired now. My father was diagnosed with MS a few years ago. They had always talked about travelling, but never quite got around to it, never had the time or the money. And now, with Dad being sick and all . . ."