A tiny, mechanical eye appeared above the open kitchen counter.

When the eye spotted Sara, it instantly retreated back down again.

Bentley 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?"

Sara couldn't hear the conversation from across the room.

Lightning outside cracked across the sky. Low rumbles of thunder echoed soon after.

Bentley turned to face Sara. "Cooking Robot is a bit, uh, shy. While he's not really a fan of storms either, I forgot that he hasn't been around other people, besides me, for a long time."

Sara sank lower into her chair. "Oh, that's okay. He can stay in there if he doesn't want to come out," she said.

Bentley tapped his chin, thinking. "We'll outsmart him," he said. "We'll just make him think he's seeing two of me."

Sara rolled her eyes. "You're not going to get him drunk are you?"

Bentley burst out laughing. "He's a machine!"

Before Sara could react, Bentley ripped off his black sweatshirt. He wasn't wearing a T-shirt underneath. Sara was glad she was sitting down. A surprise move like that would have definitely 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.

Sara tried to keep her 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," Bentley said chuckling as Sara's face reappeared out of his sweatshirt. He gently freed her long hair from the hood. For a few seconds, he toyed with the strands of her hair, 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.

Bentley 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.

Sara ducked her head, blushing. He'd called her beautiful again.