Gone With the Nerd (Nerds, #4)(17)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

She’d think about honey instead of bee stings. Honey ladled over a buttered English muffin straight from the toaster was one of life’s miracles. Picturing how the butter and honey combined as they sank into the warm craters of the muffin made her tummy growl.

Another bee flew by, and another. Goodness, now there were quite a few bees, and they were circling her chair. Maybe she shouldn’t stay out here, after all. A bee sting would not be good, not good at all. And where were all these bees coming from?

She stood up, and the bees seemed to multiply as they continued to mill around. Now the buzzing seemed angry instead of industrious. But they had no reason to be angry with her. She hadn’t done anything. Except she’d read that killer bees didn’t need much of a reason to be upset. They had a bad attitude from the get-go.

"Look," she said. "I only eat honey once in a while, okay? And I really shouldn’t have it at all, I suppose, so if that’s your beef, I’ll give it up right now. I’ll take the pledge. Call off the troops."

Instead more bees arrived, and she finally figured out they were coming up from a knothole in the porch floor. She was afraid to make any sudden movements because there were too many and she might bang into one and get stung.

Oh, dear God, what should she do? A bee sting probably wouldn’t kill her, especially if Flynn could get her to the emergency room fast enough, but several bee stings … she didn’t want to think about what that might do to her. She might not make it to the audition next week.

What was a person supposed to do when surrounded by bees? Even in the chilly air, she began to sweat. She couldn’t just stand here.

Very carefully, she took a sideways step toward the door. The bees buzzed louder, and now there seemed to be hundreds of them. They started landing on her clothes and in her hair.

Her heart began to race as the bee population grew. "Go away." She discovered she was hyperventilating, too. Definitely getting scared. Really scared.

"Look, I’m not your queen, or your hive, and I can do absolutely nothing for your honey production."

The bees continued to buzz around her.

Finally she couldn’t think of anything else to do but call for help. And she only had one avenue for that. She waited until no bees were near her mouth, opened wide, and used her best voice projection. "Flynn! Help?’

She heard a loud thud, as if he’d fallen out of bed, then a scuffle and quick footsteps as he ran out of his bedroom.

"Don’t open the door!" she yelled. "I have a trillion bees out here!"

He sounded out of breath. "What kind of bees?" "Hell if I know! They’re not carrying ID!" "Killer bees?"

"It’s possible! Flynn, I’m allergic! Can you do something?"

"Yeah! Hold on!"

Immediately she felt calmer. Flynn was on the job. She couldn’t imagine that he’d know any more about bees than she did, but he was smart. He’d think of something. In the meantime, she would show no fear. Maybe bees could smell fear, which would cause them to attack.

So far, no attack, and for that she was very grateful. To most people, this was only a swarm of bees, but to her, they could mean the end of all her plans. A few little bee stings and it was good-bye audition, good-bye nerd role, good-bye Nicolas Cage and Steven Spielberg.

The door opened, and Flynn came out wearing his glasses and his flannel pajamas, neither of which would win him points for hottie of the year. But his rumpled hair and morning beard created a manly effect that almost trumped the glasses and pajamas.

Even more exciting, he waved a flaming torch and smoke billowed all around him. He looked like a cross between the Nutty Professor and Indiana Jones. He was her hero.

He blinked in the sunhght. "Jesus! Where did all the bees come from?"

Zoe spoke without opening her mouth much, in case a bee might be flying by and mistake her mouth for the entrance to the hive. She couldn’t even imagine how a sting inside her mouth would affect her, and she didn’t want to find out. "Under the porch."

"Damn." Flynn swept the smoldering torch in a wide arc. "Go away! Get out of here!"

The smoke and flames seemed to have an effect. The bees grew calmer and drifted away until only four or five continued to buzz around Zoe. With great caution, Flynn moved the torch closer to her, and the last bees left the porch.

"Quick," he said. "Get inside. They might come back."

She dashed through the door and he followed, the torch still in one hand. Wrenching aside the fireplace screen, he tossed the torch into the fireplace, where it continued to crackle and burn.

Smoke poured into the room. Swearing, Flynn dropped to his knees on the hearth. As he and Zoe coughed and choked, he reached into the firebox and pulled a squeaky lever. At last the smoke spiraled up the chimney.

Zoe collapsed onto the sofa and wiped her watery eyes. "Whew. Thank you. How did you know to use fire and smoke?"

"Read it somewhere." Flynn coughed and replaced the fireplace screen. "I’m glad it worked. Sorry about the smoke in here. I didn’t stop to think about the flue being closed. I just wanted to get rid of the torch before it burned my hand."

"I’ll take smoke over a hive of bees any day." "Did I hear you say you’re allergic?"

"Apparently. I stepped on a bee on location about three years ago. Didn’t you see the story in the Enquirer? They had me as good as dead."

"Sorry. I don’t read the Enquirer. I didn’t know." He gazed at her with obvious concern.

"It shouldn’t be a problem here, though. Bees don’t normally go after people." The adrenaline rush left her a little shaky, so to calm herself she watched the rolled papers in the fireplace blacken and curl as they burned. Something about the material he’d used looked familiar. "What did you use for the torch?"

He followed her glance to the fireplace. "My copy of the script. It was the first thing I could find."

"Oh." She couldn’t very well be upset with him after the way he’d gallantly saved her, but using the script was awfully convenient. Maybe he thought that would end any future read-throughs with her. If so, he was wrong. ‘That’s okay. We can share mine."

"Uh, Zoe, maybe we should discuss that."

"What’s to discuss?"

"I read a little more of the script last night, and there’s a lot of sex in it"

"I know." She folded her hands and tried to look wise and scholarly. "I want your feedback on those scenes. With so much sex in the script, it’s crucial for me to be on target with my nerdy reaction to sexual situations." She gazed at him and discovered that she wasn’t scared anymore.

And exactly like last night, the absence of fear made room for other emotions. Like lust, for example. His pj’s weren’t what she’d call sexy, but he was probably nak*d under them. At the moment, that was enough to charge her batteries.

"After last night I would think you’d know my reaction to sexual situations."

She thought about what had transpired so far. "I’ve been a little too close to the forest, if you know what I mean. I haven’t been analytical enough. I need you to break it down for me. Deconstruct the process."

He swallowed. "I see."

"I realize we have a slight problem, but this is important to me. Considering the stakes, I’ll keep this strictly professional. However, I can understand if you don’t think you’ll be able to do that."

His gray eyes revealed the struggle going on. He obviously wasn’t sure he could control himself, but he’d die before admitting that. He cleared his throat. "I have a suggestion."

"What’s that?"

"Let’s schedule the read-throughs during the daytime. Humans are naturally stronger and more logical when the sun’s shining. At night their defenses come down. They can more easily make errors in judgment."

"All right. That works." She would have said that differently though. In her view, during daylight hours humans maintained their protective armor. At night their more vulnerable selves showed up. She cherished the moment when Flynn had kissed her. It had been a pure, uncomplicated gesture.

He nodded. "Okay then. I’ll shave and get dressed. Then we can … uh-oh." He gazed out the window toward the porch.

"Please don’t tell me we’ve attracted paparazzi already?"

"No, not yet anyway. But the bees are back."

Flynn hated like hell to get Margo involved, but he didn’t think they had a choice. "We’d better call your friend."

"I guess so." Zoe didn’t seem any happier about doing that than he was, but she stood and headed for the kitchen, where the cabin’s only phone hung on a wall. "She’d know who around here takes care of things like relocating bees."

"I hope they have somebody in Long Shaft who can handle it. If we have to wait for a company from Sacramento, it could take all day." He followed Zoe into the kitchen, all the while wishing she’d worn a different outfit. He’d pulled off that Einstein sweatshirt and breached the elastic of those sweats. Such events were tough to forget.

"Yeah, a local pest company would be better." She paused beside the small bulletin board on the wall beside the phone. Margo had tacked up a slip of paper with her number scribbled on it. Zoe stared at the number and sighed.

"What’s wrong?"

"I just hate to have someone come out to remove the bees. There will be paperwork of some kind, even if we don’t have to pay for it. I’ve introduced us to Luanne using the names Tony and Vera, but we can’t be Tony and Vera if they ask us to sign something verifying they’ve removed the bees." She glanced over at him. "You don’t have some secret way to lure them out, do you?"

"Nope. I got lucky with the smoke thing. If you’re allergic, we can’t take a chance on having them around. Maybe there won’t be any paperwork. If it’s a small local operation, there might not be." And if you don’t make the call soon, I’m liable to grab you and kiss you, so do it.

"Okay. I guess we have to try." She picked up the receiver and punched in Margo’s number. After some time, still holding the receiver to her ear, she turned to Flynn and made a face, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

"What?" He remembered how good that tongue felt in his mouth. He wanted to kiss her until they were both out of breath.

"There’s no answer. Not even a machine. Who doesn’t have a machine these days?"

He controlled his urges so he could focus on the problem. "Your friend Margo, apparently. Could she be at work?"

"Quite possibly. And I don’t have that number, damn it." She opened a drawer beside the phone and rummaged around with one hand while she continued to listen to Margo’s phone ring. "No phone book. No advertising flyer from the Sasquatch Diner. How do they expect to get tourist business if they don’t leave flyers in the rental properties?"

Flynn didn’t think the fine citizens of Long Shaft were promo geniuses. "I guess I’ll have to drive down there."

Zoe hung up the phone and leaned her h*ps against the counter. "By yourself?"

"I think I can manage. I’ve been driving by myself for some time now. I even have my own driver’s license." He definitely shouldn’t be thinking about lifting her up on the counter, which was the perfect height for—

"I didn’t mean it like that. I just… would feel silly hiding out here while you drive into town to talk to Margo. She’s my friend. I should handle it. I can make myself up so I look completely different from Zoe Tarleton."

And she’d still be his fantasy. But he wondered if she was afraid to stay because of the bees. He couldn’t blame her for that. "If you keep the doors and windows shut, you shouldn’t have a problem. I’ll make it a fast trip."

"I’m not worried about the bees. Well, maybe a little bit. But mostly I was thinking that… well, Margo works at a diner." She sounded wistful.

"And you want to get something to eat?"

"Desperately. All we have here is bread and eggs. I might be able to manage toast, but I like my eggs over easy, and if I try cooking them, they’ll be splattered all over the pan. Spatulas and I have never been on good terms. And frying pans pretty much hate me."

Flynn believed that Zoe would make a mess of breakfast. So would he. He wouldn’t mind having breakfast at the diner, either, which would accomplish several objectives. He would be uneasy leaving her alone in case a bee somehow found a way in. Besides that, a trip to town would break the sexual tension between them.

But he was worried about Zoe being recognized. "Are you sure you should risk it?"

She gazed into his eyes. "Think fluffy omelets." She lowered her voice to a husky murmur. ‘Think golden waffles with ripe, sweet strawberries on top and a luscious swirl of whipped cream. Think hot, rich coffee and cinnamon rolls filled with plump, juicy raisins. Think—"

"Okay, we’ll go." He was getting harder with every word coming out of her mouth. He turned and marched down the hall to his bedroom before she could catch a glimpse of the bulge in his pajama bottoms. Soon they would have other people around, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be quite so tempted to rip her clothes off.

Chapter Thirteen

Zoe and Flynn managed to slip out the back way and dash to Flynn’s rental car without attracting attention from the bees. Zoe glanced at the porch once Flynn was in the car and they’d slammed both doors. The bees were clumped all over the rocking chair where she’d been sitting.

"This is beginning to feel like that old Alfred Hitchcock movie," she said, "except it’s the bees instead of the birds that are taking over. I had to watch that movie in my film history course and I never forgot it."

"Yeah, I remember seeing it on TV." He glanced over at her. "Don’t think about it."

"Okay. Let’s talk about my disguise. How do I look?"

"Umm… different."

"Nerdy enough?"

"Well, I have to say, the red plaid skirt with the purple flowered blouse is not subtle. Nobody would ever accuse you of having any fashion sense."

"That’s good, isn’t it?" Once they were out of range of the bees, she rolled down the window so she could enjoy the fresh air. She knew to use the handle instead of looking for power buttons thanks to driving Flynn’s Civic.