Hmm. He tugged on his lower lip, and once again a brilliant notion struck him. What would a young man want, but a young woman from this century? Well, the last century, but that was close enough.
Yes! He had the perfect solution.
“Rhiannon!” 7: Come What May
Ty
It was the day from hell.
I’d overslept thanks to torrid dreams of Adam, who I hadn’t seen since just after Christmas. As a result, I’d had to skip breakfast, barely having time to feed and walk Mina; the jacket I’d grabbed on the run wasn’t warm enough—the calendar might say April, but it felt like January—and I’d forgotten my lunch.
On top of that, my digital recorder needed to be recharged, and my notes looked like chicken scratches. I squinted down at them, hoping I’d be able to decipher them once I returned home.
And now Dr. von Bulwer was turning his beady black eyes on me and frowning. “What is your problem, Mr. Small?”
I only just stopped myself from looking around for my dad. “I’m sorry, Doctor?”