A tiny, mechanical eye appeared above the open kitchen counter. When the eye spotted Sarah, it instantly retreated back down again.Bent stood up from his chair and walked over to peer down into the opening in the counter. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you want to come out here?” Sarah couldn’t hear the conversation from across the room. Lightning outside cracked across the sky. Low rumbles of thunder echoed soon after. Bent turned to face Sarah. “Cooking Robot is a bit, uh, shy. While he’s not a fan of storms either, I forgot that he hasn’t been around other people besides me for a long time.”Sarah sank lower into her chair. “Oh, that’s okay. He can stay in there if he doesn’t want to come out,” she said. Bent tapped his chin, thinking. “We’ll outsmart him,” he said. “We’ll just make him think he’s seeing two of me.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to get him drunk are you?” Bent burst out laughing. “He’s a machine!” Before Sarah could react, Bent ripped off his black sweatshirt. He wasn’t wearing a T-shirt underneath. Sarah was glad she was sitting down. A surprise move like that would have made her light-headed had she been standing. His shoulders and chest muscles glistened and rippled wonderfully under the fluorescent lights. Unfortunately, he was ridiculously intimidating now that he was shirtless. It was quite unfair the way he could easily turn her somewhat confident attitude into a pile of sloshy mush. “Well come on then, get up. Put this on,” he said. He held out his sweatshirt, oblivious of his effect on her. Sarah tried to focus on his face, but her eyes betrayed her, dropping down again to take in every inch of his glowing skin. She realized her body had frozen in place. It seemed the sight of him literally made her feel inadequate. Even though she knew she wasn’t. To her surprise, he yanked her up out of her chair. He lifted her arms above her head and pulled the sweatshirt down over her. The sweatshirt engulfed her in his incredibly musky cinnamon and clove scent, making her head spin faster than it already was. “There she is,” Bent said chuckling as Sarah’s face reappeared out of his sweatshirt. He gently freed her long hair from the hood. He toyed with the strands of her hair for a few seconds, rubbing them softly between his fingers. Then he fluffed out her hair so it spilled across her shoulders. He took a step back to look her over. His playful smile slowly faded into an unreadable, almost pained expression. His chocolate milk eyes remained alive and intense, studying her. He was quiet for awhile. Bent suddenly shook his head and forced a laugh. “Wow, I was out of it for a moment there, sorry. We should get that hood on.” She sensed he was nervous now, which amazed her. He was never nervous. He had nerves of steel. “Here,” he said, his voice achingly tender. He wrapped his hands around her hair again, and twirling it into a ponytail, tucked it down into the sweatshirt. He tugged the hood over her head. “You’re like a little owl. Just a round face with two big beautiful eyes,” he said. Sarah ducked her head, blushing. He’d called her beautiful again.