"Isn't that what family does?" I snapped.
Ford held my hand with both of his and a quiet sadness settled over him. "Yes, but you shouldn't have to deal with any of this. Can we, just for a minute, regret that you have to be involved?"
"What good is that?" I held still as each brush of his fingertips sent tingles up my arms.
He didn't lift his eyes. "You should be studying, going to parties, making plans for winter vacation, and flirting with boys," Ford said.
"The last thing I need right now is some 'boy' trying to take me out to dinner, as if this isn't way more important," I said.
Ford tugged my hand and brought me closer. "You deserve to have a normal and easy life. Especially when you're in college."
I leaned back an inch, overwhelmed by the magnetic pull of Ford's body. "I like this. I mean, my life. I like my life, complications and all."
"I just hope you know that you don't have to face this alone," Ford said. "I know you have your father too, but, if you need someone else ... I'm here for you."
Our faces were inches apart. My hand was still captive between in his fingers. My whole body cried out to nestle into the spot against his chest where I had hugged him before. My shoulder fit just underneath his arm, my head cradled between his taut chest and strong shoulder. One step and I could slip back against him and feel our bodies align.
"Thank you," my voice came out breathless. "Thanks for being here for me. Even if your advice is condescending and full of male ego. I appreciate that you're trying to protect me, and my father."
Ford shifted towards me and my heart leapt with joy. Relief, I told myself, it was just relief. Clearly Ford felt the same magnetism that I did. I wasn't just a foolish schoolgirl flirting and floundering her way through a difficult situation. I wasn't just imagining things.
He brought my hand up and pressed it to his chest. I slid it over to feel his heartbeat, and Ford jerked back. He shook his head and looked around as if snapping out of a dream.
"Alright." Ford dropped my hand. "No more trying to stop you. It's time I start helping." He paced a semi-circle around his small living room. "We should start by cornering the football coach."
"He's not going to tell us anything," I said. I shivered in the cool vacuum his absent body had created. "But I'm sure we wouldn't have to look very far to find more of his team members that have cheated on tests and plagiarized papers."
"Already planning to put the screws to someone else to get at the truth?" Ford asked. "I like it, but, I think you're right. The football coach won't talk easily. Maybe we should start with the professor that filed the complaint."
"Wait," I said. "Does this mean that you are planning to go after the story? I know it seems ridiculous for me to flip roles so soon, but don't you think the worst thing you could do right now is get involved in a story like this?"
"Maybe I should take up painting so I can join your father," Ford joked.
"I'm serious! If you're attached to this story at all, then Michael Tailor is going to come after you too. You might lose your job. I don't want you to lose your professorship because I needed help," I cried.
"I'm not along to help," Ford said with a wide smile. "I've seen your killer instinct and heard your plans. I'm just along for the ride."
I smothered my smile with a serious look. "This isn't like that train you've always wanted to catch," I said. I held my breath and wondered if he would remember.
Ford's eyes twinkled and he stepped forward to capture my hand again. "That's right. We talked about just wanting to pack a bag and get a change of scenery."
My eyes misted. "Only this change of scenery isn't so fun."
"That's okay," Ford said. "There's only one view I'm really attached to."
His eyes swept over my face and made me dizzy. I wanted to ask him thousands of questions, questions I would never dare voice, but that looked seemed to answer them all. I slipped my hand free and looked around the room for anything that could ground me again.
"So, we've already decided to leave the football coach out of it, right?" I asked. "Brian's not talking and we can't really blame him about that because it's family. That leaves the professor. He's gotta be innocent, don't you think?"
Ford watched me with a cryptic smile then his brow cleared. "The professor that turned in the paper? Why do you think he's innocent?"
I paced to the kitchen and back, hoping the air flow would cool my cheeks and clear my thoughts. It was hard to keep my mind on the details of our complicated story when Ford smiled at me like that. My heart wouldn't stick to a regular rhythm and my thoughts spun out of order.
"The professor's innocent because ..." I avoided looking at Ford, but felt his smile instead. "The professor's innocent because he wouldn't need to be pressured to turn in a plagiarized paper," I said.
Ford's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "True. I didn't think of that. But, that means we're stuck."
"No, there's one more piece of evidence we haven't looked at from every angle," I said. I retrieved my purse from the floor by the sagging sofa, and tossed the long strap over my shoulder. "I'm going to make sure we get it. Maybe there's a way to trace it back to Michael Tailor."