❝If there was one thing Anthony Lockwood was afraid of, it would be Carolynne Blair Lynch's pure, mere, terrifying beauty.❞
𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭? Perhaps a day that didn't go your way so now you'd...
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"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐧𝐞!" He shouted into the hallway before turning back to George, "you can grab one en route to the archives."
Seconds later Carolynne walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard to take out a glass that she poured orange juice into. Lockwood's eyes traced over her figure and the exposed skin that her shorts, vest and the flannel that hung off her shoulders provided. It wasn't like she hadn't worn shorts or a vest around him before, of course she had - but never at the same time.
Carolynne cast him a side glance as she placed the glass to her lips, "Anthony can I kindly ask that you not undress me with your eyes - especially when we're not alone."
Lockwood's mouth fell open for a moment before he quickly closed it, clearing his throat.
George groaned as he put his mug down in the table, "I thought we were going to the cemetery."
"Me and Lucy are. Come on." He gave a pointed look to the girl to usher her out the kitchen with him. "I need you to go down to the archives and find out everything you can about the mirror and Bickerstaff. Today is make or break."
Carolynne raised an eyebrow, "what about me?"
"You're staying here." He told her sternly, "you're not well enough to hit the field yet."
