Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 1265

It was a classic case of "human cannonball"—all curves, no brakes. Andrew braced himself, quickly spreading his arms to catch the petite but busty Francesca.

"Fran, when did you come to Blumedale? Why didn't you tell me?" Andrew asked gently, feeling the fullness and warmth of her body against his.

Francesca replied with a pout. "I've been here for three days already! Dr. Goddard wanted me to come early to prepare for the Grand Medical Summit. He said I needed complete focus and it was too urgent to allow distractions, so he wouldn't even let me notify you!"

Andrew looked at the smiling Malcolm and began to understand the situation.

Francesca released him, her cheeks slightly flushed, and explained candidly, "Yes, Mr. Goddard has been my mentor since graduate school. He's also an old friend of Grandpa from Blumedale."

Malcolm walked to the sink, washed his hands thoroughly, and approached Andrew with a warm smile. "You must be our Fran's boyfriend, Andrew Lloyd, right? Very good, very good indeed. Not only are you handsome, but you're also exceptionally skilled in medicine—definitely worthy of this girl!"

Francesca's face turned even redder as she protested sweetly. "Dr. Goddard, you're getting just as annoying as Grandpa! Please stop saying such things!"

Malcolm chuckled and gestured welcomingly. "Thomas, Mr. Keller, Ms. Garcia, Andrew—please, everyone, find a place to sit! My office is messy, and I apologize for the poor environment."

Logan, typically critical by nature, showed unusual respect toward Malcolm. He insisted politely, "Don't worry about us, Dr. Goddard. Please, you sit first."

Even the normally cold Chantelle displayed proper etiquette in Malcolm's presence. However, she kept her attention primarily on Francesca, inwardly scoffing at Andrew's apparent promiscuity.

She thought that Andrew already had Aspen, and it seemed that he also had Malcolm's talented protégé. They were both exceptional beauties with unique qualities.

She wondered, 'How can this bastard handle so many women? Isn't he afraid of exhausting himself?'