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“Yeah,” he says. “Weak abs. And you have firsthand knowledge of my abs.”

My cheeks heat, at that. “I also have firsthand knowledge of Newton’s laws of physics. Put that front wheel back on the asphalt.”

But the intellectual part of my brain that understands axle torque and stats about motorcyclists being at risk on our roads is at odds with the part of my brain that has decided he looks ridiculously hot while doing it.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he says, dropping back to the ground with just the tiniest bounce and swerve. “Have a good day, babe.”

Even the use of babe can’t wipe the smile off my face.

“You too, Sunny.”

My exit is approaching, and Sunny hangs up and salutes me once before suddenly speeding up and racing out of sight.

I drive the rest of the way to the college with a smile on my face and a sense of feeling…loved. It’s reckless to fall in love with a man like Sunny. And yet, that’s exactly what I’m doing. And every time I try to objectively think about what the illegal part of his life truly means, I can’t come up with reasons big enough to override my snowballing feelings for him.

But my mood doesn’t take long to sour. Because when I get there, Mina greets me at the door. “Dean Whitaker wants to see you.”

I drop my bags on the bench. “Did he say what for?”

Mina shakes her head. “It was his assistant. And I didn’t feel like I should pry. But I made you a cup of coffee because I know you always think better when you have coffee. It’s been sitting there for about five minutes, though.”

I reach for it and chug it. It’s nowhere near as good as the coffee Sunny made at home. “Thank you. Wish me luck.”

I turn to walk out the door just as Evan walks in. His head is down, headphones in, and his phone slips out of his hand as we collide into one another. He looks almost as shocked as I feel when he looks up and notices me. “Sorry, Della,” he says before bending to pick up his phone.

“No harm done. But that phone of yours is gonna run out of lives, the way you keep dropping it.”

I hurry to the dean’s office, the steady buzz of caffeine finally kicking in, and I’m grateful that by the time I sit down opposite Dean Whitaker, I feel alert.

“We’re finalizing some details with our donor,” he says, eventually. “They’re impressed with the college and our ten-year vision. They’re prepared to be very generous, not just financially, but they have offered a not-for-profit build of the new science center.”

My jaw opens slightly as I forget, for a second, who the sponsor is. “That’s massive for the university. It will help increase our reputation.”

The dean nods. “I’m glad you agree, because it makes this next part easier.”

“What next part?”

“They need to be legally certain that environmental findings against developers will never be a problem. An impediment, if you will.”

“An impediment to what?”

“Progress.”

I stare at him. “The wetlands are dying, Dean. That’s not an impediment to progress. That’s someone poisoning them to make progress.”

Dean Whitaker smiles at me like my father does when he’s humoring me. “I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to be sensible. Let this one area go to save the department.” He slides a sheet of paper across the table toward me.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“It’s a revised contract for you. It lays out new boundaries for the scope of your research.”

I flick through it and see geographic boundaries and scope limitations and…

“You’ll fire me if I break any of these?”

I think about the food web, the algae, the micro-organisms and animals and insect larvae. Everything is going to starve in silence because the bottom of the chain, the water, went first.

“How long do I have to review this? I want my lawyer to look it over and decide if this is legal.”