It's July 15th, 2022, and Sarah Walker has finally scored her dream job—working with dolphins at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. Socially awkward and academically driven, Sarah's never found love—but when she meets a tech genius whose inventions have the chance to make her research a reality, she finds herself falling for him. Together, their work could change the world … that is, unless someone else gets hold of it first.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck…

Chapter 10: Persona Non Grata

Chuck drove back to his sister's cottage along the winding road that clung to the coast, his thoughts ricocheting between the possibilities inherent in the tech Sarah had just showed him and that unexpected, insanely hot kiss.

He hadn't intended to be the first one to make a move. Sure, he'd thought about it in the abstract, even dreamed about it in Technicolor … but in the moment before he'd kissed her, the only thing that had been going through his mind was how excited he was about what the Cymatics tech might be able to do for their shared project. If he'd planned the kiss in advance, he was sure the whole thing would've been far more awkward, like it usually was the first time he drummed up the courage to kiss a girl—full of false starts, flailing limbs, and bumped noses. Instead—as bizarre as it sounded—he'd kissed her almost as an afterthought … as if they'd been together for years and years, and this was just how they always said goodnight. It had felt so easy—so natural.

What had happened after that—when Sarah'd grabbed him, mid-apology … that had been equally natural, but 'easy' wasn't the word he would have chosen to describe it. Explosive … mind-blowing … erotic …

He couldn't believe he'd torn out of there like his ass was on fire—but as much as he'd wanted to stay with Sarah, he'd needed to get home and write down his ideas before they went up in a puff of smoke. Cymatics technology might well be the solution to his whole conveying-pictorial-concepts-to-a-dolphin problem. If he and Sarah could learn the way dolphins perceived the world … could see what Finn and Echo 'saw' through sound … then maybe he could devise a far more effective way to communicate with them—one that was based on the dolphins' perceptions rather than humans'. As it was, what he and Laszlo had managed to put together was crude at best, an approximation of what Finn and Echo had endeavored to communicate. He couldn't wait to investigate the CymaScope's design further and figure out if it could yield results for their research.

Still … should he have left like that, so abruptly? What if she was angry at him—thought he was being an ass …

Surely she wouldn't think that, would she? He was excited about her project, after all—had left because he wanted to pursue her inspirational idea before he lost hold of it…

With a sigh of irritation, he pulled the Tesla into the driveway of Ellie's rental cottage and unlocked the front door, fending off Peaches' eager advances. Ellie's car was parked outside, but Devon's wasn't; they must still be out on their date. The Great Dane should've been crated, but as usual, she must've Houdini-d her way out. At least she didn't seem to have destroyed anything … much. He sighed as he spied the contents of the kitchen trash can strewn up and down the hallway.

Peaches stayed by his side, wagging her menace of a tail, as he cleaned up the fallout from the dogpocalypse. Then he grabbed his laptop and sat down on the couch, pulling up DolphinSpeak's website and reading everything about them he could find. The more he read, the more fascinated he became. Apparently, John Stuart Reid, the acoustic engineer who'd invented the CymaScope, had partnered with a venture capitalist with a passion for cetacean communication. Together, they'd founded DolphinSpeak. Reid was the Chief Operations Officer—his email was listed on their website.

While Chuck knew a lot of people in the IT and engineering world, he'd never heard of Reid. Still, chances were that between him and Laszlo, they at least knew someone who knew someone…

He fished his phone out of his pocket and hit Laszlo's contact. The phone rang and rang, finally going to voicemail: "If you've reached this recording, then I've obviously got something better to do than answer your call. Leave a message if you just can't help yourself."

God, the guy could be such a dick sometimes. If he wasn't such a good friend—and a brilliant engineer—Chuck would've lost patience with him a long time ago.

Laszlo was terrible about checking his messages, so Chuck didn't bother leaving one. If Laz saw his number pop up on the caller ID, he'd call Chuck back.

Instead, he picked up his laptop again, deciding to write Reid an email. Worst case scenario, the guy didn't respond, and tomorrow, he and Laszlo could brainstorm about whether they had any mutual connections.

He kept it short, introducing himself, mentioning his and Laszlo's job titles, and talking about the project they had in the works—how they'd experienced some success with the dolphins and wanted to take their work to the next level. He wrote about how serendipitous it had seemed to discover DolphinSpeak's technology and about his own work, years ago, with CHAT. Then he signed off with a couple of lines about wanting to talk with Reid, engineer to engineer, at Reid's earliest convenience, giving the guy his personal number.

Chuck checked the email for typos and blatant desperation—then, finding it acceptable on both fronts, hit 'send.' It was a little after 11 PM, California-time—three hours earlier than the time in Florida, which was where DolphinSpeak was located. With any luck, he'd hear something back from Reid tomorrow morning. Now all he could do was wait … and try to stop thinking about that damn kiss…

He needed a distraction—anything would do. Otherwise he was liable to hop in his car and drive back over to Sarah's—and how embarrassing would that be?

Determined not to make more of a fool of himself than he already had, he got to his feet, leashed Peaches, and allowed her to drag him around the block. As he came within a hundred yards of Ellie's front door, the crazed canine saw something in the bushes—a raccoon? A cat?—and lunged after it with gusto. Chuck clung to the leash, swearing under his breath. "Come back here—for the love of God, you're breaking my freaking wrist!"

Peaches looked back over her shoulder, unrepentant, and lunged again. Chuck reined her in just as the creature in question—a cat, he saw now—darted across the road, disappearing between two parked cars.

"It's gone," Chuck told the dog, rubbing his injured wrist. "See? You frightened it away. Because you're sooooo terrifying. Honestly, if you weren't—"

His phone chose that inopportune moment to ring. Out of breath and glaring at Peaches, he dug it out of his pocket and answered without bothering to look at the number. "Laszlo?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then an unfamiliar voice said, sounding hesitant, "No. This is John Reid. Is this Chuck Bartowski?"

Oh my God.

Of course Reid would call right now, while Chuck was wrangling a giant, semi-murderous dog-beast in the dark outside his sister's cottage. How had he expected anything less?

Chuck did his best to pull himself together and sound professional. "Sit," he hissed at Peaches, covering the phone. "Yes, Mr. Reid. This is Chuck. Thank you so much for calling me back so promptly. It's late … I didn't expect…"

"Please, Chuck, call me John. Is this a bad time? You sound a little … preoccupied. I could always call you back—"

"No!" Chuck said, more vehemently than he intended. "I mean, thank you, but that won't be necessary. This is a good time. A great time, actually. I'm glad you called."

He tugged on Peaches' leash, urging the dog to follow him back to Ellie's—but Peaches refused to budge. Chuck pulled harder, getting himself absolutely nowhere. He and Peaches were in a standoff.

"And I'm glad you emailed me," John Reid was saying. "Us tech types—we're always on the clock, right? Never far from our email. When I saw your message, I was so interested, I figured I'd just pick up the phone and see if I could catch you before you called it a night. I'm familiar with the work that you did with CHAT years ago. Could you tell me a bit more about what you guys are up to at the Aquarium? It sounds fascinating."

Chuck sat down on the curb next to Peaches and gave Reid a slightly longer version of what he and Laszlo had accomplished, including his quest for technology that might enable him to find a solution that was dolphin- rather than human-centric. "When I found out about your tech," he finished, "I thought it might be exactly what I was looking for. Can you explain a little more about how it works—what applications you've found for it?"

Peaches turned toward Chuck, trying to lick his face, as Reid went through the scope's applicability in musicology, oceanography, physics, zoology, and even Egyptology. Chuck was especially fascinated by the way the scope had been used to create a visual representation of Beethoven's music for the deaf community, through an application called MusicMadeVisible. He had to force himself to stay on track.

"Would you be willing to share your design specs with me?" he said, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.

Reid sighed. "I wish I could—one engineer to another, you know? But I'm afraid I'd need to check with the CEO first. When they hired me on at DolphinSpeak, I sold the rights to my design. It was part of the deal." His voice dropped, sounding exasperated. "Man, I hate all the corporate stuff. I wish everything could just be open source, for the sake of science. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do." Chuck did his best to keep his disappointment from his voice. "That's a bummer."

Peaches rested her heavy head on his shoulder, as if commiserating, and Chuck petted her silky ears. Aside from his own excitement about Reid's design, it would've been so awesome to be able to show Sarah that he'd gotten his hands on it. He thought he'd detected a little bit of reluctance when she'd first showed him their website—but maybe that was because she thought he'd be upset that someone had had the germ of this idea first. Chuck wasn't remotely egotistical about stuff like that. When it came to sharing concepts, he and Reid were kindred spirits. He loved seeing engineers and researchers build on each other's work, collaborating as a team to reach a shared goal.

Together, he and Peaches watched a couple bike by. Despite the late hour, the man had a child on the back of his bike, strapped into one of those little seats. Chuck's dad had ridden like that with him, once upon a time. Chuck had always hoped that one day, he'd be able to do the same thing with a kid of his own. Now here he was, twenty-six years old, and his longest relationship had been with his thesis adviser.

"You know," Reid admitted, interrupting Chuck's downward spiral, "you could always get an overview of my design from the piece in the Journal of Marine Science that was published a little over four years ago. If I remember correctly, the article was pretty detailed. Of course, some of the proprietary info isn't in there—but it would at least give you a jumping-off point to understand how I built the thing."

Chuck sat up straight, a smile spreading across his face. "That would be awesome. Can you send me the link?"

"Sure. But, you know, I bet my boss would be interested in speaking with you, too. Maybe he'd even want to collaborate—although I'm sure he'd want to see your work first. If that's the case—and you're open to it—you're in luck. He and I are actually in San Fran right now, spearheading a project with Golden Gate Cetacean Research."

"I'd love to talk with him." Chuck got to his feet, feeling the need to pace. Of course, Peaches refused to oblige. She just sat there, immovable as a lump of granite, only her head turning as she watched the bikers disappear into the dark. "Feel free to pass along my number. I don't think I'll be at the Aquarium much for the next week or so—I'll actually be working out of a lab at MBARI—but if he wants to come by and see our work in action, I'm sure that can be arranged."

They said their goodbyes, and Chuck resisted the urge to do a little victory dance right there on the sidewalk. What the hell; it was dark. No one would see him. He did one anyway.

When he finished, he glanced down at Peaches, who was eyeing him with a distinctly judgmental look. "Don't even try it," he told her. "You're the reason I almost made a fool of myself with Mr. Reid. Come on, we're leaving. And if you don't cooperate—I'll let your mama deal with you when she gets home."

The threat was as effective as it had been on Chuck himself—as it probably still was, come to think of it. The dog lifted her head, taking a deep breath of the salt-brined air, then got to her feet and trotted off toward the cottage.

When they got inside, Chuck took off Peaches' leash, made sure she had water, and then checked his email. Reid was as good as his word: He'd sent Chuck a link to the article as promised. Chuck read through it, feeling more confident—and a little confused. This was more than just a general guide to the CymaScope—it was a detailed list of all the components Reid had used in its construction, including each setting and calibration. Sure, most of the components were deprecated, given the technological advancements since the article had been published, but between Laszlo and himself, Chuck knew they could hunt down the best hardware available to the general public—and some components that weren't. The only thing Chuck could figure was that the 'proprietary information' that Reid had mentioned resided in the engineer's head, and not in the design or construction of the scope.

On closer examination, Chuck could already spot one crucial element he felt could be dramatically improved. The CymaScope relied heavily on 3D printing software to fully render the 2D still frames and flesh out all the additional information conveyed by the echolocation beams. Hell, a lot of that information was probably being lost in translation by not being able to render it on the fly, in real time. After all, if a picture was worth a thousand words, what was a video worth—especially if it was presented in all three dimensions? Why not simply take out the middleman?

Curious to see if any changes to the design had been made since the article was published, Chuck did some more digging. As best as he could tell, the CymaScope was still using the same process. Energized, he jotted down some notes on an idea that sprung to mind, then turned out the lights and got ready for bed.

He lay there for a while, exhausted but unable to fall asleep. Ellie and Devon eventually came back from their date, and he heard Peaches greet them, knocking over something sizeable in the process. As he'd done when he was a teenager and Ellie would come home from her late-night waitressing shift, he lay still, comforted by the familiar sounds of her nighttime routine: grinding the coffee beans for the next day, showering, checking every door and window to make sure it was locked.

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of an underwater Italian restaurant with red-and-white-checked tablecloths and the best eggplant parmigiana he'd ever eaten. Sarah sat opposite him, elegant and beautiful in an aquamarine dress that matched her eyes. And next to her, a bib tied around her neck, was none other than Echo.

"Chuck," the dolphin said—and somehow he could understand her perfectly. "Don't forget to—"

He leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to say. It was important, he felt sure of it. But the dream shifted, changing. Suddenly Echo was swimming away from them, out of the restaurant and into the open ocean. Then the restaurant itself disintegrated, leaving him and Sarah lying on the beach, kissing just as passionately as they had on her porch.

He wanted to tell her they had to go back, to find Echo and learn what the dolphin had wanted to tell him. But the feeling of Sarah's body beneath his was addictive, a siren song and a promise of things to come. He bent his head, covering her mouth with his, feeling her hands twine in his hair—and when he woke the next morning, he barely remembered the first part of his dream at all.

OoOoOoOoO

Chuck was in a great mood, excited both to see Sarah again and play around with Reid's design. After taking a quick shower, he reloaded all of his equipment in his car and headed out the door to pick up Laszlo, who'd sounded half-awake when Chuck had called to see if he wanted to ride together to MBARI. In an act of mercy, he swung by Tidal Coffee and ordered three coffees and an assortment of bagels with cream cheese. The tattooed, buff barista behind the counter gave him an easy grin, asking him if he wanted the bagels toasted and making small talk as he poured cream into Laszlo's to-go cup. Remembering how Ellie had paid her way through school by waiting tables, Chuck made sure to give him a sizeable tip.

Hell, maybe he should've tipped Ellie, instead. If it hadn't been for her, he'd probably still be wandering around the beach like a clueless idiot, looking for the gorgeous mystery woman Peaches had knocked into the waves.

Making a mental note to thank his sister later, he drove to the hotel where Laszlo was staying—the Hyatt Regency Hotel and Spa, a far cry from the dives he and Chuck had stayed in when they backpacked across the country after college—and pulled up in front of the hotel's portico. Laszlo was waiting for him, looking exhausted. He opened the passenger side door and dropped into his seat without a word.

"Long night?" Chuck ventured as he pulled out of the hotel's circular drive and onto the road, heading for Route 1.

Laz just shrugged.

Familiar with Laszlo's inability to function before ten AM, Chuck gestured at the carryout tray containing the coffees. "Caffeine?"

Laszlo made a sound of deep gratification. "Ah, Bartowski. You're a prince among men." He picked up the to-go cup and sipped, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Chuck's curiosity got the better of him. "What the hell did you get into last night? Did Lou agree to go out with you, after all?"

Laszlo blinked, startled. "Lou? No. She won't give me the time of day. I went out drinking … ended up taking an Uber home. Then I couldn't fall asleep because I kept thinking about this stupid project of yours."

Chuck suspected this was only part of the truth. He was willing to bet that Laszlo owed his sleepless night to his interest in the trainer—and the fact that that interest wasn't returned. He couldn't remember the last time Laz had gone after a girl who wanted nothing to do with him. But he wasn't about to say so. "Well, the coffee should help. And I picked up some bagels, too. Maybe you'll feel better after you eat."

Laszlo rolled a dubious eye in his direction. "What's got you so freakin' chipper?"

Chuck would've loved to tell him about his amazing dinner with Sarah—but he didn't want to violate her privacy. He wasn't sure exactly what they were to each other—all he knew was, that hadn't been a friendly kiss … far from it. He'd never felt anything like the rush that had overtaken his body when his lips touched hers. All he wanted was to spend more time with her … to kiss her again …

But what if she didn't feel the same way? A woman like that could have anyone she wanted. What if their kiss hadn't been as incredible for her as it had been for him? Then again, she had made that comment about how this thing between them was 'meant to be'…

"Chuck?" Laszlo shoved his shoulder. "You still with me?"

"Dude. First the punching. Now the shoving. Give it a break." Chuck glowered at him. "I, um, hung out with Dr. Walker last night. Talking about the project." That much was true. They had talked about the dolphins … somewhat.

Laz cocked an eyebrow. "Dr. Walker, huh? So you finally managed to put two words together in her presence —and you used your newfound linguistic capabilities to ask her out? Way to go, Bartowski. You actually grew a pair."

Chuck sighed. "Actually, she asked me out, for what it's worth. Well, not out. She asked me to have dinner with her … at her house. You know … to make up for dumping me in the tank. It was a rain check from the night before … because Echo went into labor … why are you looking at me that way?"

"You are so clueless." Laszlo sighed. "Tell me you brought a bottle of wine, at least. Or flowers. Or …"

He merged onto the 1, wishing he wasn't driving, so he could shove Laszlo back. "Of course I did. I'm not a heathen."

"So how was it?" Laz took another gulp of his coffee, sounding more awake.

The guy was like a 90-year-old, gossipy woman. "Fine," Chuck said, peeling the wax paper back from his bagel with his free hand.

"That bad, huh?"

Playing for time, Chuck took a bite of his bagel. "No!" he said, after he'd swallowed. "It was good. We had a great time. She made salmon."

"That's all you have to say? She made salmon?" Laszlo snorted. "Dude. You are a lost cause."

Chuck ignored him. He certainly wasn't going to talk to Laz about what had happened between them before he talked to Sarah … and he and Sarah definitely needed to talk. It went without saying that he wanted to be with her—and if she felt the same way, then they certainly had a few things they needed to figure out … especially since he lived in Cupertino and she lived in Monterey.

As far as he was concerned, that wasn't a deal breaker—far from it. He worked for himself and when he really thought about it, he knew Sarah, and by extension, Monterey, just might be the change his life desperately needed. Ellie and Laszlo were always saying he was in some kind of perpetual rut. This would be a helluva way to break out of it. And then, maybe Laszlo would stop harassing him every time the guy opened his damn mouth.

"Yeah, well," he told Laz, slowing for their exit, "I may be hopeless when it comes to women, but luckily for our project, my track record doesn't extend to IT or engineering. I think I may have come up with what I think may be a groundbreaking idea. Dr. Walker—Sarah—pointed me in a very promising direction. You wanna hear about it, or are you too busy having a good laugh at my expense?"

As annoying as Laszlo could be, he knew when Chuck was being serious. He sat up, wiped his mouth with one of the napkins that the barista'd put in the bagel bag, and said, "I'm all ears."

So Chuck told him everything—about the concept of dolphin-centered communication, pictorial representations of language, and, of course, the CymaScope and his ideas for tweaking it. "I ended up having a great conversation with Reid," he finished, "Peaches notwithstanding. And this article he sent me—man, it's got everything but the secret sauce. You and I can totally reverse engineer the rest."

When he finished, Laszlo gaped at him. "I can't decide if this is the most brilliant thing you've ever come up with or if you've completely lost your mind."

"Are they mutually exclusive?" Chuck slowed as they crossed the bridge separating the mainland from the narrow strip of land that held MBARI. "Just check out the design. Then you can decide for yourself."

They pulled into the parking lot, and Chuck chose a spot as close to the entrance as he could get. He drained his coffee to the dregs, swallowed the last bite of his bagel, and grabbed the drink he'd ordered for Sarah. Then, for what would hopefully be the last time for a little while, he and Laszlo unloaded their equipment and hauled it through MBARI's front doors.

He'd had Laz text Sarah when they crossed the bridge, to let her know they were almost there. He'd thought she would just alert the receptionist that they were coming … but Sarah herself was waiting at the reception area, looking as beautiful as ever in a silky blue shirt that brought out the color of her eyes and a pair of shorts that showcased her long legs. Oh, who was Chuck kidding—she could've showed up in a burlap sack and he would've thought she was a knockout. The packaging was nice—but the woman inside it was what really blew his mind.

"Hey, Sarah," Laszlo said, unleashing his patented grin on her.

"Hi, Laszlo," she said, giving him a friendly hug and turning to Chuck.

The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her or compromise her professional image in a public setting. Should he hug her too? Shake her hand? At a loss, he let go of the stack of equipment he was trying to balance and lifted the hand holding the coffee in an awkward salute. "Hey," he said, smiling. "Good—"

Before he could get the word out of his mouth, Sarah was in his arms. Or, rather, she'd thrown her arms around him, and a stunned second later, his own arms came up to hold her tight, nearly spilling the coffee in the process. She stood on her tiptoes, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. He felt the heat of her body against him for a delicious moment before she pulled away, whispering in his ear, "I hope you're free again tonight."

Chuck stared at her, dazed. "I—yes, I—" he tried. At a loss for words, he finally managed to nod.

Laszlo cleared his throat, an amused smirk lighting his face. "That bad, and worse," he said.

OoOoOoOoO

Sarah stepped back, feeling a blush heat her face. She couldn't believe she'd just kissed Chuck like that—and in front of Laszlo, too. It was incredibly unprofessional, and she had no excuse—except that she didn't seem to have the ability to stop herself. When she'd seen him standing there, his face lighting up at the sight of her, his adorable, mussed-up curls spilling into his eyes … God, she'd been jonesing to kiss him ever since she'd woken up that morning.

To be honest, it was all she'd thought about since he'd stumbled down her walkway last night and driven away. What were they now? Were they dating? Colleagues who occasionally made out? Had he thought the kiss they'd shared was as incredible as she did?

Chuck had kissed her first—but absentmindedly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. That wasn't how first kisses were supposed to go, almost like an afterthought—and maybe she should've minded … but she didn't. They'd just fit. She'd felt like he was the final, missing piece to a puzzle she didn't even know she was working on.

That second kiss, though, the one she'd initiated—oh my God. She'd never felt anything like that—a conflagration that had set her bones ablaze. If Chuck hadn't stepped back and fled, she had no idea how far she would've let things go. Was she just setting herself up for a world of hurt?

Chuck lived and worked in Cupertino, the center of the universe as far as his field of expertise was concerned. She'd just landed her dream job in Monterey. Sure, it was only an hour-and-a-half commute, but still … would he be up for starting a brand-new, long-distance relationship with someone he barely knew? They needed to talk about it—and soon, before she got in over her head. That was why she'd asked him over again … among other reasons.

He brushed his hair out of his eyes with his free hand, offering the to-go cup she hadn't even noticed he was holding before she launched herself at him. "I … um … this is for you."

"Oh … how sweet," she said, accepting it and turning around to hide her embarrassment at attacking him like a lust-crazed fiend.

Coffee in hand, she led Chuck and Laszlo back to her lab, pausing at the room that held the CNC machine and tooling shop. She didn't know exactly how the CNC worked, but she knew it transmitted digital data that controlled the machines' ability to weld, route, stamp, and carry out multiple other functions on demand. It seemed like it'd be right up their alley. MBARI had a lot to offer her knights in shining, pocket-protected armor—and she felt the need to demonstrate that up front, to quiet the voice inside her that insisted that she'd had an ulterior motive for wanting Chuck to work here rather than in his sister's bungalow…

Once they made it to her lab and dragged their equipment inside, Chuck and Laszlo set to work, unpacking the Intersect and mounting it on a tripod in the center of the room. The tripod's pole connected to the underbelly of the mechanical dolphin, giving it a free-floating vibe and providing the full range of motion that it would have in the water, rather than lying flat on their large worktable.

Sarah worried that things between her and Chuck would be awkward, after last night and their kiss in the lobby—but Chuck was the perfect blend of relaxed and businesslike. He pulled out his laptop, booted it up, and called her and Laszlo over.

"So," he said without preamble, "I did some more research on the CymaScope last night when I got home—and I briefed Laszlo about it in the car on the way over, so I wouldn't waste everyone's time. I think there's some pretty incredible potential here … and after my conversation with John Reid, I'm almost sure of it."

Her heart started to pound. "You … you talked to Reid? At DolphinSpeak?"

A huge smile spread across his face, like he thought this was the best surprise ever. "I did. We had a great conversation, even though Peaches tried to sabotage it. He said he doesn't own the patent to the CymaScope anymore … he sold it to the guy who bought the design and hired him when DolphinSpeak first got off the ground. But I could tell Reid really wanted to help—one engineer to another, you know. He sent me a link to an article on the scope that ran in the Journal of Marine Science. Based on that, I don't think we'll need the proprietary information to design and build something even better."

Sarah couldn't breathe. He'd actually reached out to Reid—the endearing fool. Damn it! She was so stupid … of course he had. Why wouldn't he try and contact the designer that built the blasted thing?

She had no problem with Reid. He was a nice guy—she'd met him a couple times, at industry conferences. But his investor … the man who'd launched DolphinSpeak and bought the patent to the CymaScope—that was another story entirely. One which she'd prefer Chuck knew as little about as possible, especially right now.

The problem was, she had a sinking feeling it was too late. She'd only known Chuck for a little while, but she already knew that once he got passionate about a project, he barreled ahead full bore. It was an admirable quality, one that had probably enabled him to achieve so much at such a young age—and in this scenario, an equal liability.

"Sarah?" He was regarding her quizzically, his eyebrows raised. "Is everything okay? I thought you'd be thrilled."

She managed a half-hearted smile. "Oh … oh, I am. I'm just tired, I guess. Didn't sleep well last night." She sipped the coffee Chuck had brought her, ignoring Laszlo's smirk. "It's great that you don't think you need the patent for the redesign." That much was true. The less he interacted with anyone at DolphinSpeak, the better. "I can't wait to see what you come up with."

Chuck still looked doubtful—but he didn't press the issue. "All right then, let's get to work. Laz, you ready?"

"Always," Laszlo said, the smirk lingering on his lips. God, he could be annoying sometimes—not to mention arrogant. She didn't blame Lou for giving him the cold shoulder.

Over the next couple of hours, Sarah sat at her computer, going over data sets and reviewing the footage from the day before, as Chuck and Laszlo used a CAD program to design the new and improved Cymatics rig. She saw a different side of Laszlo when he was focused on a project—smart and incisive, without any of the obnoxious banter that usually came out of his mouth. He made insightful suggestions, building on Chuck's work and coming up with some creative ideas of his own. No wonder Chuck liked him so much, even relied on him.

At last, Chuck pushed his chair back from the makeshift workstation, stretching his arms above his head and giving a luxurious groan. "I think this looks pretty good, Laz. How about you?"

Laszlo stood, gazing down at the screen of Chuck's laptop. "Honestly? I think this is capable of far more than the original. Maybe it's a good thing we didn't have all of the specs from the get-go. We might've just stuck with Reid's design instead of coming up with these improvements." He frowned. "Hate to rain on your parade, Bartowski, but you don't think you're going to be able to get all of that stuff around here, do you? Because I'm pretty sure that that right there, the thing you're calling the cypher"—he pointed at the screen—"is gonna have to be custom-made."

"Way ahead of you." Chuck smiled at Sarah, who'd come over to the two of them. She looked where Laszlo was pointing and saw a clear globe with multiple voice coils attached to it. Each was neatly labeled: 'Front,' 'back,' 'left,' 'right,' 'top,' and 'bottom.' She had no idea exactly what she was seeing, but she was sure that if and when she asked Chuck, he would explain without condescension or braggadocio—unlike a certain someone she refused to name. "I'm gonna call Manny."

"Of course you are." Laszlo sighed. "I'll just stand right here and wait for him to shovel his requisite ration of shit my way."

"Ah, that's just Manny's way of saying how much he loves you." Chuck pulled out his phone, giving Laszlo a wicked grin that Sarah had never seen on his face before.

"He doesn't give you shit!"

Chuck shrugged. "I guess he just loves me more."

Holding up a finger to forestall Laszlo's protest, he hit a contact, put his phone down on the table, and placed the call on speaker. It rang once—and then a woman's cheery voice said, "Thanks for calling QSI. This is Greta. How may I direct your call?"

"Hey, Greta. Can I please speak with Manoosh Depak?"

"One moment, please." There was a pause. Then the phone rang again … and again.

Just when Sarah thought they were going to get bumped into voicemail, the call went through. "This is Manoosh," a man said, his tone brisk.

"Hey, Manny!" Chuck leaned back in his chair, knotting his fingers behind his head. "What's happening, brother? It's me … the recurring thorn in your side."

There was a pause. Then Manny chuckled. "Laszlo, is that you?"

Laszlo rolled his eyes. "I heard that, Depak. I'm sitting right here."

"Oooh. I'm terrified." Manny sounded anything but.

"As well you should be. I'm trained in three different ways to bring a man to his knees using only my pinky finger—and I know where you live."

That was right—Laszlo'd been in the military. It was easy for Sarah to forget that—until he dropped his voice into that faux-growl and eyed the phone as if it was an enemy target.

"What, are you gonna beat me into submission with your slide rule?" Manny said. "You traded your Sig Sauer for bits and bytes years ago, dude. You're a keyboard warrior now."

Laszlo snorted. "I think you've got me confused with Bartowski."

"Hey, hey," Chuck said, taking control of the conversation, "let's play nice, boys. Manny, I'm about to email you a special order and I'd like for you to handle it personally. It's gonna need to be done with the precision only your skilled hands can pull off. We're talking micron tolerances here. You up for the challenge?"

"Dude, you just said the magic words. Flattery'll get you everywhere. Send it my way."

"Coming right up. One sec…" Chuck opened his email, attached a file, and pressed send. "And … done."

"Got it. Let me take a look … hang on…" There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Manny said, sounding impressed, "Damn, Brat-owski, what in the hell have you and Loser-lo gotten yourselves into? This looks like something out of the fucking Dark Crystal."

Chuck huffed. "Don't be petty, Manny. You know how I feel about that movie. Can you do it, or not? I need it done in fused quartz … like yesterday."

"Yeah, yeah … I've got you covered. I'll have to expedite it though—friend or not, I'm gonna have to charge you for a rush order, plus this won't be cheap. And you're not going to have it tomorrow, so cool your jets and find something else you can work on in the meantime. I know how you get."

Chuck shifted his weight, looking disgruntled. "How long?"

"A few days? This is delicate work, man, you said so yourself. You want it done fast or you want it done right?"

Laszlo grinned at the phone. "I knew there was a reason I liked you, Depak. You never hesitate to put my man here in his place."

"Is that the only reason? I'll keep that in mind the next time you need something."

"Well…" Laszlo drawled, refocusing his grin on Sarah.

"That's what I thought. I'll keep you updated, Chuck. Bill your personal or business account?"

"Is there a difference?" Chuck retorted, and disconnected the call.

Sarah wasn't sure what to make of their conversation—except that it was clear the three of them had a long-standing friendship and spoke each other's language. Still, something bothered her. She stalled, settling for, "Okay … what's QSI?"

"It stands for Quartz Scientific, Inc. Laz and I went to school with Manny. He may mess around with us, but he's the best when it comes to micro-components and precision—a real perfectionist. I wouldn't trust this job to anyone else." Chuck sighed. "If Manny says it'll take a few days, there's no point in pushing him. I'll just have to be patient—not my strength when it comes to stuff like this."

Laszlo scoffed. "Really—you? Impatient when it comes to getting a project done? I'm surprised you've been sleeping at all."

"Says the pot to the kettle."

Sarah intervened before the two of them could get going. "Chuck—I hate to bring this up again, but are you sure you're okay with spending your own money on this? I know my grants can't cover anywhere close to what this is going to cost—but I could look into our discretionary funds and see if there's anything I could send your way…"

Chuck looked insulted. "I wouldn't have offered to cover the cost if I didn't want to, Sarah. And no—" He shot a glance at Laszlo, forestalling whatever his friend was about to say—"it's not just because I like you. I do, I mean. Like you. Obviously. But I'm not trying to … to buy your affections or manipulate you or … or anything. I promise. You could tell me to take a hike tomorrow and I'd still underwrite your work. I think it's groundbreaking. Fascinating. And it's my honor to lend a hand."

Sarah didn't have an idea how to address this—or how to properly thank him. "If you say so. But if you change your mind…"

"I won't." His lips pressed into a thin line.

"But it's got to be so much—"

"Take his word for it, Sarah," Laszlo said, glancing between the two of them. "I know that look, and he's not going to back down anytime soon. Plus, he's good for it. This bastard is just as smart as he seems—and he's been able to leverage it to the tune of some pretty sweet Benjamins."

It was Chuck's turn to snort. He looked embarrassed. "Who even says that? Benjamins?"

"I do, obviously." Laszlo looked unruffled. "Would you prefer cheddar? Lettuce? Bread…?"

"It sounds like you're making a sandwich. Are you hungry…again?"

"You only gave me a lousy bagel, dude. And we've been working all morning. I know you forget about food when you're in the zone, but—some of us need to eat."

"I'll order a pizza," Sarah said. In her eagerness to get to the lab, she'd also forgotten to eat breakfast, and her stomach was growling. "Vegetarian okay?"

"Awesome," Laszlo said. "A woman after my own heart."

Chuck let this one go, connecting his laptop to the Intersect and beginning to type. After ordering the pizza, Sarah sat down at her desk and went back to reviewing the footage, notating the dolphins' body language and other visual cues during their unsuccessful tests with Morgan, trying to determine if there was something they might have missed. Laszlo started working on the MRI table and misting system, pausing to ask Chuck a few questions about the design before taking off for the CNC room.

They took a brief break when the pizza arrived, then got back to their self-appointed tasks. Sarah was pleasantly surprised to discover that, as laser-focused as Laszlo and Chuck could be, they included her in all of their discussions, asking her opinion and checking in to see how her work was going. It was refreshing to have two such gifted, talented guys treating her as equals. All too often, women were dismissed as lesser citizens within the male-dominated scientific community. That was far from the case here. As the hours wore on, Sarah found that she enjoyed working alongside these two extraordinary men far more than she'd anticipated—her feelings for Chuck aside.

Before she knew it, it was time to knock off for the day. They'd made a ton of progress: Laszlo had finished building the MRI table and was ready to start on the misting system; Chuck had been able to get Morgan's AI to fully interface with the mechanical dolphin, although he said the process still needed some tweaks; and Sarah had cataloged most of her video and audio recordings—past and present—into action sequences. Morgan would probably be able to accomplish all of this in a fraction of the time—though Chuck was far too polite to say so—but she had a gut feeling that in the end, it'd come down to a human to solve this riddle, and she was not going to fail. She'd compare the AI's work to hers and see where the discrepancies lay.

Chuck slung his laptop's messenger bag over his shoulder. "Are we still on for dinner, Sarah? It's been a long day, and I'll understand if—"

"Of course." She'd been looking forward to it since she'd invited him and he'd said yes. "I just need to clean up here, and then I'll be ready—though I'm not sure what to make. Maybe something simple this time—is spaghetti okay?"

"Sure." He smiled at her. "I'll help cook. Just wait for me. I'm not great in the kitchen, but even I can't ruin spaghetti. Or we can go out…"

Sarah winced. Why hadn't she thought of that? That's what normal couples did for their first dates, right—go out to dinner? Inviting a guy back to your place was a statement of sorts—that you had certain expectations or wanted to take things to the next level. Maybe she should make reservations at a restaurant … but she'd already invited him over …

"Would you prefer that?" she blurted. "Because we could definitely eat out … I mean, go out … I mean …"

Laszlo, who had headed to the door to give them some privacy, gave a barely suppressed laugh. Both of them glared at him.

"Sorry," he said, stepping further into the hallway. "By all means, carry on."

Chuck cleared his throat, ignoring the sound of Laszlo's laughter. "I'm fine with coming over again, Sarah. I had a fantastic time last night and it means a lot that you trusted me enough to invite me into your home. But I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble," she said, managing to meet his eyes. God, they were such a delicious, gorgeous shade of brown. "It's like I told you—I love my little cottage. And getting to share it with you—I didn't tell you this yesterday, but you're the first guest I've had over since I moved in. It makes me happy to have you there."

"Then it's settled." He gave her a shy smile. "I'll pick up another bottle of wine and some dessert. Seven still good?"

"Perfect." The nervousness drained from her body, and she stepped forward, giving him a quick kiss. "I'll see you then."

Chuck stood there for a moment, just looking at her—like he wanted to memorize her features. Then he mumbled, "See you then," and made his way to the door, barely avoiding a collision with the frame. She could still hear Laszlo's laughter fading as the two retreated down the hallway.

A smile lingering on her lips, Sarah began tidying up the lab, resetting it for the next day. She'd gotten it cleaned up to her satisfaction and was about to head out when she noticed Chuck's phone lying on the worktable. He'd been so immersed in what he was doing, he'd forgotten it. Walking over, she picked it up and slipped it into her pocket. She'd give it back to him tonight.

Her back was to the door and her mind lost in anticipatory thoughts about their date—what it would be like to be alone with him again, whether they'd be able to top the previous night's kiss. Her surroundings faded away. She was on her front porch, the ocean breeze blowing through her hair and the scent of Chuck's aftershave filling her lungs. His arms were tight around her, his stubble rough against her cheek, his lips brushing hers—

Then an all-too-familiar—and entirely unwelcome—voice came from behind her, jolting her out of her reverie. "Well, I'll be damned … as I live and breathe. If it isn't Sarah Walker. Still incredibly beautiful, I see. Have you missed me?"

A/N: Yeah … so, about that cliffhanger … #sorrynotsorry. Just as an aside—John Reid is, indeed, the designer of the CymaScope—but of course, we put these words in his mouth. See you next week, when we find out just who snuck up on Sarah … and what that means for our favorite couple.

As always, thanks for reading—and please keep your reviews, follows, and favorites coming our way! They really do make this all worthwhile.