"Library," she whispered, her eyes darting toward the closed wooden door down the hall.
"The highly classified project in the library," I nodded, reaching out to pull her by the waist until she was flush against me again. "I go get the photos. You prepare the grand reveal. When I walk back through that front door, we exchange masterpieces."
She looked up at me, her expression softening into pure affection. She uncrossed her arms, sliding them up my chest to rest on my shoulders.
"It is a deal, Baker," she murmured.
I leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that was meant to be quick, but immediately escalated.
She parted her lips, sighing into my mouth as I deepened the contact, my hands tracing the curve of her spine, pulling her impossibly close.
It was a heavy kiss, filled with the promise of the evening ahead. I could taste the faint sweetness of her lip balm, feeling the soft heat of her body pressed against mine.
When I finally, reluctantly pulled back, we were both breathing a little heavier.
"I'll be back before you know it," I whispered, my forehead resting against hers.
"Drive carefully," she ordered softly, her fingers trailing down my arms as I stepped away.
"I have tunnel vision," I promised, grabbing my car keys from the ceramic bowl by the door.
I threw her one lingering look before stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind me.
The air outside was carrying the earthy scent of damp grass and autumn leaves. I walked to the detached garage, unlocked my car and slid into the driver's seat.
The engine roared to life with a smooth purr. I backed out of the driveway, the tires crunching softly against the gravel and turned onto the main road leading toward the center of Westview.
I drove slowly, keeping exactly to the speed limit. The town was peaceful, the sidewalks lined with people walking dogs and children riding bicycles.
I glanced at the empty passenger seat, then up at the rearview mirror, finding the invisible 'lens' of the audience.
"You see how neat that is?" I asked the empty cabin, a satisfied smirk spreading across my face. "The universe just hands me a 'coffee spill' and a 'jammed paperclip' to explain away the vaporization of a military base."
I tapped the steering wheel to the rhythm of the soft rock playing on the radio.
"God, I love being me," I chuckled softly. "No Hayward, no white robot, no trauma inducing boss fights. Just me, a comfortable flannel shirt and a framed photo waiting for my living room wall. It's almost too easy."
I turned onto Main Street, pulling the car into a parallel parking spot right in front of the brick facade of Stan's Photography Studio.
I stepped out of the car, adjusting my collar and pushed the heavy glass door open. The little brass bell above it chimed a cheerful note.
The studio smelled intensely of developing chemicals and old paper. Stan was standing behind his counter, wrapping a massive object in brown craft paper.
"Dr. Spencer!" Stan beamed, looking up as I walked in. He hastily taped the final corner of the paper. "Perfect timing. I just finished wrapping it for transport to protect the glass."
"Stan, you are a lifesaver," I said, walking up to the counter. "I appreciate you rushing this."
"It was my pleasure, truly," Stan said, his eyes crinkling with genuine artistic pride. "I have to tell you, Dr. Spencer... I've been taking portraits in this town for thirty years. But the dynamic between you and your partner... it's rare. The camera captures what the eye sometimes misses. The way you look at each other... it's magnificent."
He patted the wrapped frame.
"I took the liberty of looking at the large print before I framed it," Stan continued, his voice dropping slightly. "The one where you dipped her. The freestyle shot."
"And?" I asked, feeling a sudden spike of curiosity. "How did it turn out?"
"It looks like a man who has found his entire world in one person," Stan said softly.
A warm sensation bloomed in my chest.
"Thank you, Stan," I said quietly. "That means a lot."
I reached into my pocket, pulling out a thick stack of bills. I placed it on the counter.
"This covers the expedited fee, the mahogany frame and a little extra for your artistic eye," I said.
Stan looked at the money, his eyes widening. "Dr. Spencer, this is... this is far too much."
"Consider it an investment in local business," I insisted, tapping the counter. "I'll take the frame now."
Stan carefully slid the wrapped rectangle across the wood. It was heavy, the mahogany frame adding significant weight to the glass.
I gripped it securely under my arm.
"Have a wonderful evening, Doctor," Stan called out as I walked backward toward the door. "Tell Wanda I said hello!"
"Will do, Stan!"
I pushed the door open with my back, the bell chiming a farewell as I stepped back out onto the sidewalk.
I walked to the car, carefully opened the rear door and laid the wrapped frame flat across the backseat, ensuring it was secure and wouldn't slide during the drive.
I shut the door, dusting off my hands.
I was ready to go home.
But as I walked around to the driver's side, my eyes caught the flickering neon glow of the shop directly across the street.
Scoops & Sweets.
The slightly faded plastic ice cream cone on the roof seemed to be calling my name.
I looked at my watch. I had time.
"You can never go wrong with a secondary dessert," I murmured to myself.
I crossed the street, dodging a slow moving station wagon and pushed the door of the ice cream parlor open.
The blast of artificial vanilla hit me instantly.
The shop was empty of customers. Behind the counter stood the same teenager from the other night, wearing a slightly stained apron and a bored expression.
He looked up from his smartphone as the door chimed.
He blinked.
He blinked again, his jaw dropping open. The smartphone nearly slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the countertop.
"Holy crap," the kid breathed, his voice cracking slightly. "You're... you're him."
I stopped, raising an eyebrow. "I am him?"
"You're the hero doctor!" the kid exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. He pointed a finger at me. "I saw the video! You did the CPR on the baby! And you're the... the National Husband guy! You came in here the other night and bought the single scoop of dark chocolate!"
I couldn't help it, I laughed. The absurdity of suburban fame was staggering.
"I prefer 'Local Doctor'," I said, walking up to the glass display case. "But yes, I am the guy who buys the chocolate. And I'll take it. One generous scoop of dark chocolate, please. In a cup. With two spoons this time."
"Two spoons, right, got it," the kid stammered, grabbing a paper cup and viciously attacking the tub of dark chocolate with the scooper. "Dude, that video was insane. My girlfriend has watched it like, fifty times. She's obsessed with you and your wife. She says you guys are relationship goals."
He handed me the cup, his hand shaking slightly.
"We aren't married," I clarified gently, pulling a ten dollar bill from my pocket and dropping it into the tip jar. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
"Can I... can I get a photo?" the kid asked, looking at me with pleading eyes. "If I tell my girlfriend you were in here and I didn't get a picture, she'll break up with me. I swear to god, she'll dump me."
I looked at the kid.
"We can't have a breakup on our conscience," I said, offering a warm smile. "Come here. Let's take the photo."
The kid scrambled around the counter, pulling his phone up.
I leaned in, making sure to hold the cup of chocolate ice cream up so it was visible in the frame.
"Say 'National Husband'," the kid joked, holding the phone out.
"I am absolutely not saying that," I laughed.
Click.
The flash went off.
"Thank you, man. Seriously, thank you," the kid said, staring at the photo on his screen as if it were a winning lottery ticket.
"Have a good day," I said, giving him a two finger salute.
I turned and walked out of the shop, the bell chiming one last time.
I crossed the street, the cup of ice cream cold against my palm. I got into the driver's seat of the car, placing the cup securely in the center console cup holder.
I looked in the rearview mirror, checking on the wrapped frame resting in the backseat.
"Alright, audience," I whispered, shifting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. "Let's go home and see what the Queen has built."
PS: Come on guys, we just need 68 more Power Stones for another bonus chapter. Let's push it, haha.
PS: There are 30+ Advance chapters available on the Patreon for those who want to read ahead. www.patreon. com/Drrajnovel