Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)
But she was a once-in-a-lifetime girl, too.
What were the chances of that?
Chapter 4
Harper
I repositioned the third test helmet over the plaster head—already precisely marked and measured to ensure reliable data after impact—and secured it on the round metal arm of the second machine in my lab. This one used hydraulics and robotics to recreate an impact against a curved or uneven surface—much like the metal boards holding up the rinks’ plastic partitions that protected the audience from flying pucks.
After noting the positions and calibrating the laser technology to track impact, I walked behind the safety line and hit the power button. The arm lifted the helmet up and up and then came crashing back down to recreate the force of a surface impact—
And cracked.
Majorly freaking cracked.
“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence to give you free rein of my head,” Nathan’s voice sounded from just inside the door to my lab, and I jolted at his sudden presence. He stared at the nearly destroyed helmet, his eyes wide, a coldness seeping in behind the warmth.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, and his eyes shifted to me, focusing on me with a smile as if to say you really don’t know?
I sighed and walked toward the machine. He knew me well enough from our time in Sweden to know that he could’ve been standing there through my first two trial runs and I wouldn’t have noticed. He may have been insanely gorgeous with a smell that set my blood on fire and a smile that made my stomach flip, but when I was in lab mode, nothing could break my concentration.
“I wouldn’t use your head,” I said, detaching the mangled helmet from the robotic arm, “this early in the trial process.”
“That’s comforting,” he said, stepping farther into the room, a large black duffle bag hanging from his arm.
I quickly jotted down the force and impact measurements. “You see this here?” I asked, pointing to the large crack along the point of impact.
His eyebrows rose. “You mean the gaping trench where my brain matter would be?”
“Yes,” I said, ushering him closer. He set the bag down on the clean metal table across the room and hurried over. “Check out the inside.” I handed the helmet to him.
He examined the interior, his lips pursed. “Figured the packing would be cracked to hell too.”
“Exactly!” I said, snapping my fingers and hurrying to my laptop to input a few notes. “The new foam I’ve been experimenting with is working. The interior is intact, but it’s not perfected yet. And I still need to reformulate the consistency, but we’re on the right track. What I truly need is the live data—the most common areas of impact on a player so I can better configure the formula.”
“And that’s what I’m here for,” he said, his voice drawing me out of a rant I hadn’t realized was audible.
I blinked a few times, grounding myself in the present, and eyed his bag. “Is that…?”
He strode over to the bag, the muscles in his back shifting under the tight red t-shirt he wore. “My personal Sharks’ helmet?” he asked, setting his hand on top of the bag. “Absolutely not.”
My shoulders dropped, but he unzipped the bag and pulled out precisely that.
I gasped, rushing to meet him at the table, my hands reaching toward the equipment like it was the Holy Grail. With a moment of hesitance, he handed over the helmet, and I squealed. I actually squealed.
Noble laughed. “That’s a reaction I wasn’t expecting.”
I bounced on the balls of my feet. “You have no idea how much this means to me!”
“I think I do—”
“This is the best birthday present in the history of time! The data collected will be invaluable, and I’ll be able to produce a higher standard of helmet at rapid speed. I’ll have hard evidence to support the funding for an entirely new line of protective athletic gear…” I trailed off mid-ramble, noting the patient smile on Nathan’s lips. Reality clawed up my spine, cold and raw.
“Hey,” he said, his brow furrowed as he stepped closer, gazing down at me. “What track did we just leap?”
“Huh?”
He arched a brow at me. “You went from ecstatic to hopeless in the span of a blink. What track did we just leap?” he repeated, and I couldn’t stop the warmth that spread in the center of my chest at his use of the word we.
“You’re risking everything allowing me to place sensors inside your game helmet.”
He nodded.
“And you could lose your contract. You could lose everything. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this—”
“You didn’t ask, I offered, remember?”
“Only because you knew what I wanted.”
He huffed out a laugh. “You know, not everything I do revolves around what you want.”
I gaped at him, heat flying to my cheeks. “I didn’t mean—”