CHAPTER17
The red-tipped fingers on Artie’s eerie robot arm had hooked Calista’s ankle. The partial robot held her in place. “Unhand me.” Geeze, she sounded like one of Piper’s Tudor heroines, but there was no other apt phrase that fit her intruded-on situation. “Now, Artie.”
“Diameter,” Artie muttered out as if he were commanding the robot to measure her ankle.
“Let go.” There, that was more modern and clearer.
Artie stared at his controller. “Working on it.” His tone was defiant.
The robot fingers creeped up her calf an inch.
Vivien’s gaze pivoted between Artie and the arm. She shifted her laptop. “How are you controlling that? Let’s talk code.”
Artie said nothing.
Olivia snapped a picture with her phone and jotted on her legal pad.
Calista tightened her grip on Ronan’s arm and shook her foot. The robotic fingers moved an inch higher. “Come on, Artie, I got no sleep last night.” She yawned. “I need coffee.”
Artie didn’t answer her. He adjusted a knob on his controller, which was black and triangular like a high-end gaming joystick.
Ronan’s expression went from easy-going to hockey fierce. He met her gaze with serious blue eyes. “Want me to handle this?”
Calista found his expression hot, and well worth the inconvenience she was experiencing with her lower leg. She tilted her head. “What would that look like?”
“I grab that arm and beat Artie in the head with the wheeled end.”
Calista snickered. Violence should never be funny. She couldn’t help her lips twitching, though.
The whirring revved louder, the mechanical fingers opened, releasing her, and the Artie arm wheeled back to its owner.
Excellent.
Calista shook out her foot, and she and Ronan left.
Only moments ago back in class, Calista had thought she’d give anything for a nap. Seemed like Ronan was just the shot her system needed. Reenergized, she barely kept herself from skipping as they made their way to the ground floor coffee shop.
Ronan reached around her and grabbed the door handle. “That happen often?”
Calista tilted her head to him. “Which part?”
“Assault?” Ronan’s voice was dry, but his use of the term didn’t waver.
Calista waved off his suggestion. “Artie’s working out the kinks on his robot.”
Ronan made a masculine sound of disbelief but didn’t contradict her. He opened the door, and the aroma of coffee beans wafted out. Exactly what she needed.
* * *
Ronan paused and let Calista go in front of him. The coffee shop was packed. The machines were brewing, and the baristas moved at measured speed.
The hoodie-wearing student in front of them checked out Calista. His gaze stuck to the number twenty-two across Calista’s chest. Long moments passed as the guy stared without moving his eyes.
Dude, he was standing right there beside her. Pissed tension wound inside Ronan. First Artie, now this prick.
The guy jerked his gaze away.
Ronan let out the breath he was holding and tried to shake off his reaction. Despite the tough reputation of hockey guys, he wasn’t short-tempered. The universe just seemed to be messing with him lately, especially where Calista was concerned.