Gone With the Nerd (Nerds, #4)(7)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"Okay." She backed away from the doorway, a gleam of speculation in her eyes. "I’ll look over the groceries Margo bought and see what might work out for dinner."

"Great. That would be great." He walked briskly into the living room, sat on the brown flowered couch, and nipped open the laptop. He could hear Zoe banging around in the kitchen and recognized the aimless clattering. She behaved in the kitchen the same way he did, flailing around without a clue how to make food happen.

She must be confused as hell by those condoms. He’d made such a production out of his relationship with Kristen that bringing condoms on this trip looked sleazy, as if what Kristen didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Even without the Kristen angle he must seem damned cheeky and presumptuous with that box in his overnight bag.

He didn’t like looking sleazy, cheeky, and presumptuous, especially not to Zoe. Maybe he should simply explain, but he wasn’t sure how to begin the conversation. They didn’t know each other that well.

Eventually he realized that he hadn’t even bothered to turn on the laptop, let alone call up his e-mail. Bad sign. He was already so distracted by Zoe that he was neglecting Kristen. He’d fix that right now with a long, cheery message.

Powering up the laptop, he was able to connect to his Internet account, so he could stay in touch with both Kristen and his conscience. Maybe before he e-mailed Kristen he should do some Bigfoot research, just to be current.

He found plenty of Bigfoot sites, which was encouraging. The idea hadn’t died. As he logged onto one, eerie music poured out of his laptop and he immediately hit the mute button.

"Was that you?" Zoe called from the kitchen.

"Some crazy pop-up ad. It’s gone now."

"It sounded like the soundtrack for some creepy movie I would hate."

"Yeah, you never know what you’ll find on the Web these days." What he was finding right at this moment got his adrenaline flowing. Zoe might not believe in Bigfoot, but a whole lot of other people did, and they were only too happy to talk about it. Flynn read eagerly.

Someone reported clocking a California Sasquatch at 35 miles per hour. That was damned precise. Casts of footprints too big to be human, too human to be a bear, had been made. Large bipedal creatures estimated to be fourteen feet tall had been seen running out in the open, and not far from here, either.

Margo claimed to have seen a whole family of them. That was beyond cool. Maybe he should take a walk in the woods at night and see if he got lucky. Maybe—

When Zoe cried out, he threw the laptop down and ran into the kitchen, his heart racing with anticipation that she’d spotted something outside.

"M-mouse," she said, pointing a shaky finger toward a small alcove that held a table and four chairs. "I’m s-sorry if I scared you, b-but it startled me. And I s-sup-pose we don’t want it in here."

Flynn was so incredibly disappointed she hadn’t seen a Sasquatch peeking in the window at the far end of the alcove that he forgot that he didn’t like dealing with mice. He blew out a breath and settled his glasses more firmly on the bridge of his nose. "No problem."

Surveying the area, he considered the options. The kitchen itself was narrow, with a sink and an old refrigerator along the wall on his left and an ancient stove and a counter with cupboards underneath on the wall to his right. Beyond the stove was a back door.

He needed something, some helpful instrument to facilitate the situation. Then he spied a broom propped in the small space between the refrigerator and the sink counter. He reached for the broom.

"Don’t kill it."

He hadn’t made it that far in his thinking, but beating the mouse to death with a broom didn’t sound like a good idea, for either him or the mouse. "We’ll relocate it."

"To where?"

"Outside." Except he was remembering the main thing about mice, the thing he didn’t like. They moved very fast. Right now the little fur ball remained stationary, staring at Flynn with whiskers quivering and eyes bright as drops of motor oil. But the mouse could turn into a gray streak in a split second.

"There’s a back door."

"I saw that." And Flynn needed it to be open. Zoe was standing fairly close to the door, but she looked frozen in place. Besides, he wanted to be the hero. Solving this mouse situation might make her forget the box of condoms he’d inadvertently introduced into the equation.

Keeping his attention on the little gray rodent, he edged over toward Zoe. "If you’ll move back a little, I’ll see if I can get the door open without scaring the mouse."

"I can open the door." She stepped a fraction closer to the door and the mouse.

"Let me. Just stand back."

"I’ll do it." Sounding determined, she slipped a little closer to the door. "Between Bigfoot and bears, I’m beginning to feel like a wuss. I may not like scary movies, but in real life I can be brave if I have to. And it’s only a little mouse."

"Yeah, but they move fast."

"I know. You get the broom ready to head him off in case he tries to go anywhere besides out the door."

Flynn couldn’t very well wrestle her out of the way. "Okay."

"Going toward the door." Zoe spoke softly as she cleared the stove and reached for the door handle. The mouse didn’t move. "Opening the—damn it, it’s locked." She fumbled with the lock, obviously not wanting to take her eyes off the mouse.

"I think he moved a little."

"The lock’s sticking. I’ll have to get closer and concentrate on it, which means I can’t pay attention to the mouse."

"I’ll let you know what he’s doing." Feeling like the goalie on a hockey team, Flynn clutched the broom and waited.

Zoe flicked the lock back and forth and pulled. The door didn’t budge. "What if it’s painted shut?"

"Then we think of something else. This mouse is outta here."

"I think we should name him." She tugged harder on the door.

"Name the mouse? Why on earth would you want to do that?"

"So he’s not such a foreign creature." She’d started puffing with the effort of trying to get the door open. "See, if we personalize the mouse, he won’t seem so other, and we won’t be so freaked out."

"I’m not freaked out." Which was a lie. The idea of sharing the cabin with a little scurrying thing that could go anywhere, that could bite him in the middle of the damned night, for crissakes, was giving him the willies. Bigfoot was one thing. A little hyperactive mammal was something else again.

"Well, I’m freaked out. A little. We’ll call him George."

"George is moving."

"Hee-yah!" Zoe gave a mighty pull and wrenched the door open, but George dashed past her, past the broom Flynn wielded like Wayne Gretzky, if he did say so himself, and made for the living room.

"Get the bedroom doors!" Flynn yelled as he ran back to the living room with George still in his sights. The little mouse ran under the coffee table and—naturally— under the ugly couch.

Zoe slammed both bedroom doors and reappeared in the living room. "Well?"

"Under the couch."

"We’ll lure him with cheese and shoo him out the front door. When I was taking inventory I found some cheese. Keep watch. I’ll be back."

"He won’t get past me." Flynn crouched down, peering with narrowed eyes at the opening under the couch.

Moments later Zoe came back, her hand brimming with chunks of cheddar cheese. "We’ll make a trail leading out the front door. George will go from piece to piece and finally find himself on the porch. We slam the door, and voila. No George."

Flynn had his doubts about the plan, but he didn’t have a better one at this hour of the night. "Go for it."

Zoe opened the front door, letting in the sounds of the night. Flynn couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard crickets, or the breeze through the top branches of tall pines. Now if he could manage to hear the howl of a Sasquatch, that would really make his night.

"Here you go, George." Zoe dropped pieces of cheese in a line from the front porch through the open door to the edge of the couch. "Din-din is served." Then she backed up and came to stand beside Flynn.

"Now what?"

"We watch from a safe distance and see if it works."

"Then I’ll get us a couple of kitchen chairs." On his way to accomplish that mission he noticed the groceries spread out on the counter. "Want some wine?" he called out.

"Sure!"

"Should we eat some of that cheese?"

"Better not," Zoe called back. "We don’t want to confuse his little olfactory glands by putting cheese in places we don’t want him to go."

Flynn pictured George running up his pants leg to get the cheese and heartily agreed. "I see a can of nuts. I’ll bring those."

"Great!"

Making the mercy mission into one trip gave Flynn a sense of efficient accomplishment. He stuck two wineglasses in his hip pockets, shoved the bottle opener in his front pocket, hooked an arm through each of two chair backs, and then picked up the wine bottle in one hand and the can of nuts in the other.

When Zoe saw him she laughed. "You look like a street performer about to start his act."

"Trust me, once I unload this stuff there’s no act. I’m still worried about the read-through of the script, considering that I’m way out of my depth. Maybe we should discard that plan. It could leave a really bad taste in your mouth for this role, and I wouldn’t want that." Nice segue, Granger. He patted himself on the back.

"I’m not at all concerned. I just need Tony’s lines read. You’ll be fine."

So it hadn’t worked. He gave up the fight for the time being. She helped him unload, and soon they were sipping a fairly good Merlot and munching on an assortment of salted nuts.

"Do nerds care about wine?" Zoe asked.

"This nerd does." He took another swallow. He was aware that he was drinking on an empty stomach, which might not be the wisest move, but it tasted good after all the stress of this trip. He lifted his glass. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"I sent Margo a list of brands, and this was at the bottom, but it’s fine. I’m sure she tried her best to get what I asked for."

"So you’ve known her ever since high school?" Flynn was still having a tough time making all the pieces fit. "Not continuously. And don’t get me wrong—we weren’t best buds in school. We were on the same cheer squad and knew some of the same people."

"So why are you hooked up with her now?"

"She’s reunion committee chair. You know how some people weren’t close in high school, but later on they find they have a lot in common? That’s how it is with Margo and me."

Flynn questioned that Zoe had a single thing in common with Margo but decided not to say so. Sometimes stars like Zoe got lonely, and a simple friendship with someone who wasn’t in the business was exactly what they needed. He wouldn’t tread on that.

Zoe helped herself to another glass of wine. "Did you e-mail Kristen?"

"Um, no." And he felt guilty. He’d been more interested in researching Bigfoot than getting in touch with the woman he planned to marry.

"I guess George interrupted you."

"Yeah." And his laptop still sat on the couch, open and running. He suspected he’d been bumped from the Internet by now after all this period of inactivity, but he was burning battery life. In order to fix that, he’d have to approach the couch, which could compromise the George plan, so he vowed to get the laptop plugged in at his first opportunity.

"I think it’s great that you’ve found someone special," Zoe said. "How did you meet her anyway?"

"Went back to visit my old roommate, Josh. He fixed us up."

"And it was love at first sight."

"I’d say like at first sight instead." But Flynn had sensed a kinship they could build on. They’d managed to keep the relationship alive in the past year with Flynn making several trips back to Harvard. The sex was good and he liked the companionship. No question, Kristen was a logical choice.

"If you’re thinking of marriage, then I guess you’ve progressed beyond the liking stage."

"Yeah." He believed that, although he hadn’t told Kristen he loved her. The timing had never seemed right, and it wasn’t the sort of conversation to have over the telephone, when you couldn’t kiss each other afterward.

"Selfishly I’m hoping you won’t move back to Massachusetts."

"I hope I won’t, either." He poured himself some more wine. It was tasting better with every sip.

"But it’s a possibility? I hate hearing that."

"I have to be fair. My plan is to give Kristen a year to decide if she likes Southern California. If she doesn’t, I can’t force her to live there. And I would be fine in Massachusetts. I spent all those years going to Harvard. I’m used to it."

Zoe turned to him. "Flynn, used to it is a long way from liking it. She shouldn’t expect you to be miserable, either."

"I wouldn’t be miserable. I could teach at Harvard. They probably need someone with practical experience in the field of entertainment law."

"Do you hear yourself? You’re settling, Flynn!" She looked into his eyes. "Admit that you’d miss Hollywood."

The wine was getting to him, forcing him to be more forthcoming than he might have been otherwise. "Yeah, I’d miss it." He’d miss Zoe, to put an even finer point to it. Maybe he hadn’t seen her regularly, but he had to admit she’d always hovered on the edge of his thoughts. Knowing there was a file in his office marked Zoe Tarleton had given him a thrill, a reason to feel good about life.

"It’s none of my business, but I think you should let Kristen know that your life is here." She sighed and took another gulp of wine. "Listen to me, being self-serving. I want you to stay, so I’m trying to convince you to deliver an ultimatum to Kristen. That’s not right. I apologize."

"No apology necessary." Not in the least. God, her eyes were incredibly blue, and knowing that she needed him to hang around was a real high. "I’m glad I’ve been of value to you."