America’s Geekheart

by Grant, Pippa

  “Mom, you’re going to see him naked if you stand there longer. Come on. We got him up. Now let’s go find the avocados.”

  “Who’s evil now?” I mutter to myself while I reach for my phone.

  Three hundred unread emails, ninety-eight unread texts since midnight.

  Time to get a new number again. And a new email address.

  And this time I’m really only giving it to the guys. And Ellie and my parents. And Charlie.

  And Vaughn, out of necessity.

  Maybe.

  But definitely Sarah.

  I shower quickly and pull on my favorite RYDE jeans and an old Bro Code T-shirt, because glory days, man. Plus, this one’s super soft. And it already has mustard stains on it.

  My mom’s in the kitchen making honey puff pancakes and bacon. I drop a kiss on Sarah’s head partly to make Judson’s cheek twitch but more because she smells like honey again and I’m ridiculously glad to see her. She schooled me in Donkey Kong yesterday afternoon before begging off to hang out with Mackenzie for the baseball game, and I missed her.

  I also miss my mom, so I wrap her in a huge hug. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite woman in the entire universe?”

  “Beckett Ryder, that is no way to talk in front of the best shot I have of ever getting you married off,” she hisses.

  “He’s not wrong though,” my dad tells her from the table in the dining nook, which is really like a quarter of the entire room, and is big enough to seat twenty. “You are the best woman in the entire universe.”

  She blushes and shoos me out of the kitchen.

  “Sarah’s a close second,” I concede. “She introduced me to that Moroccan place. And she promised me mint tea.”

  I wave good morning to Charlie, Davis, Levi, Tripp, the kids, and Cooper.

  Cooper Rock. Second baseman for the Fireballs. That Cooper.

  Who’s currently being gawked at by Mackenzie, who also apparently rode along with Sarah this morning.

  “Dude. Sign a baseball,” I tell him.

  “I offered and she went all frozen mime on me,” he replies.

  “So give her your shirt instead. Women don’t want balls. They want cotton.”

  Mom gets me with a spatula to the head. “That’s enough of your mouth this morning. And you didn’t tell me you were having company, so I didn’t bring enough bacon for everyone.”

  Cupcake snorts.

  “We’ll pass on the bacon, dear,” Sunny tells Mom.

  “I like bacon,” Judson growls.

  “Fucking bacon!” James exclaims.

  “James,” Tripp growls.

  Judson gets down at the kid’s level. “Do you know what happens when you say fuck?” he growls.

  Seriously. It’s all growling, all the time.

  James shakes his head.

  “Your testicles—”

  “Dad. Enough.” Sarah shoves him out of the way and squats next to James. “Do you want to know the dirtiest word in the entire English language?” she whispers conspiratorially.

  He nods, wide-eyed.

  Tripp rises from the couch and glares at her. “No, he does not—”

  “It’s snickerdoodle,” Sarah says.

  James giggles.

  “Right?” Sarah says. “Don’t say it to the grown-ups, okay?”

  “Okay, snickerdoodle,” James replies. “Snickerdoodle bacon!”

  “Bro, you have to marry her now,” Levi announces.

  My mom sniffles.

  Judson peels my balls off with his eyes.

  And Cupcake attacks a dust bunny that was lurking under the sofa and makes the whole piece of furniture move a foot.

  “Snickerdoodle pancake!” James yells.

  Emma bangs a wooden spoon on a pot my mom undoubtedly had a hand in finding for her.

  “She in a wetsuit today?” I ask Tripp.

  “She’s naked. Baby roulette, next level.”

  “Snickerdoodle poop!” James yells.

  Sarah rises and dusts her hands, then marches over and grabs my arm. “Now. You. Downstairs. Before I lose my nerve.”

  “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart,” Sunny says to her.

  “Not with the likes of him,” my dad growls. “He can’t even hold off the Euranians.”

  Mackenzie swivels her head toward him, lips and forehead both wrinkling.

  “What are Euranians?” Cooper asks, and Mackenzie snaps her gaze back to the baseball god, and swear on the pig, she swoons.

  “Mackenzie. You too,” Sarah says. “You’re my good luck video recording charm.”

  “Right!” The petite blonde leaps to her feet and trips over the pig. Davis catches her, and she goes red as a cherry. “Sarah, there is too much hotness in this room. I can’t cope. I just can’t.”

  Cupcake wanders over to sniff Emma’s butt, then collapses onto her side.

  “You should have house parties more often,” Levi tells me.

  “Aren’t you playing a show in Seattle this weekend?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Beckett.” Mom gets me with the spatula again. “Levi’s not home enough as it is. And what’s this about a video? You’re not making one of those videos, are you?”

  I wrap an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “Mom. Look at this face. Is this a face you can say no to? If she wants me to make a video—”

  Sarah jabs me with an elbow, and my dad chuckles.

  Judson growls.

  Sunny sighs.

  And even though today’s Wednesday—I think?—I can see every Sunday morning for the rest of my life. Right here. Hosting breakfast with the families. Bickering with my best friends. Killing pigs with baby poop.

  Sneaking touches of Sarah.

  It’s been years since I gave up the dream of having a family of my own—since one too many opportunistic people took that slice of my soul that still believed fame wouldn’t ruin my shot at finding that someone who could still see me—but all this?

  This is nice.

  It’s giving me ideas again.

  Ideas about a pretty friend who needs a helping hand to put some of her past behind her.

  And also some really hot fantasies of her in my shower. And in my kitchen. And on my table. Covered in honey and cinnamon and whipped cream.

  Maybe that’s why it was her. She needs help moving on from her past.

  Maybe I do too.

  “At least promise you’ll keep your underwear on,” Mom says on a sigh.

  “I promise, he’ll keep his underwear on,” Charlie assures her. “Because there are not enough hours in the day for the kind of overtime that video would take to recover from.”

  “It’s for Sarah’s blog, Mom.”

  “Oh! The science and bee blog. You have fantastic content. Beck, you should talk to Hank about having Sarah’s website optimized and her server upgraded though. The load times are a little slow with as much traffic as she’s getting.”

  “Already on it, Mom.”

  “Wait, what?” Sarah says. “Hank who? Yesterday’s Hank?”

  “He’s a snickerdoodling genius,” Levi tells her.

  “SNICKERDOODLE PENIS!” James hollers.

  “I’m going to snickerdoodling kill you,” Tripp mutters to his brother.

  And then the weirdest thing happens.

  Sarah’s eyes go shiny and she ducks her head and pulls on my arm. Hard. “Can we please just go do this?” she mutters.

  My stomach growls, but I ignore it. I know how to puppy-dog-eye my way to a whole honey puff pancake for myself later. But even if I didn’t, I’d still be trailing Sarah to the stairs.

  “Hey,” I say as I descend behind her. “What’s wrong?”

  She stops on the landing and glances up, but we’re alone.

  “You have a really awesome family,” she says, clearly trying to keep in whatever’s bugging her.

  “Did one of them say something? I’ll punch him for you. Just tell me whi
ch one.”

  She shakes her head. “No. That’s exactly it. They’re so…nice. And you all know each other so well, and it’s all fun. All the time. Even though half of you are stalked by crazy photographers and gossips who want to say things bad about you, when you’re all together, you’re just…family.”

  I’m missing something. “You have cousins you miss?”

  “No. I have me, Mom, and Dad. That’s it. Just us. And I’ve been freaking hiding from Hollywood for over a decade, away from all cameras and gossips and everything that defines their life, and has since before I was born, where you—you live it every day, but you’re still happy. And all of them—and you know them well enough to let them into your place all hours of the day, and they don’t think twice about dropping by, and you’re family. A big, dysfunctional, hilarious, got-your-back, perfect family.”

  I don’t quite get exactly why she’s on the verge of tears, but then, maybe I do.

  Because that look on her face is exactly how I felt in those few hours when we thought we might lose Ellie. The way I felt when I got the call that Tripp had lost Jessie, and watching him go through all the arrangements once she was gone.

  Like I’d finally seen how good I had it with the people I loved and who loved me, and in an instant, it could disappear.

  “You’ve never been around big families?”

  She shakes her head.

  “You can have some of mine. I’ll share.”

  That reluctant laugh bubbles out of her. “You are such a nut.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Seriously, how? How do you stay normal?”

  I brush a lock of her hair back from her face, and fuck, it’s so soft. I’m getting on the internet as soon as we’re done with this video and googling double orgasm how-to. Swear to god, I am, even though I’m pretty sure I could manage on my own, because there are so many things I’d like to do to her and with her if she’d let me.

  “Tell you a secret?” I murmur.

  “I’m suddenly terrified,” she replies with a smile that doesn’t quite light those big brown eyes.

  “I’m not actually normal.”

  “I don’t think that’s a secret.”

  “Yeah, but most people think I’m not normal because I’m fabulous. Truth is, I’m a big dork.”

  “Again, I don’t think that’s a secret.”

  “You wouldn’t have said that a week ago.”

  Her lips part, but she sucks them back into her mouth with a frown.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “The trick is finding the people who can look past the fabulousness to the guy under all the fame. And I had them built in. Those guys? We grew up playing ball and sneaking off to movies and fighting over whose turn it was on the PlayStation. We didn’t call ourselves Bro Code because it was trendy. We did it because that’s how we all grew up. All of us from the neighborhood. We’re all brothers. And if you ask me my best friend in the entire universe, hands down, every time, I’m gonna tell you it’s Wyatt. He’s a military dude now. Makes crap pay and has to send half of it to an ex-wife. Did the most awkward interview I’ve ever seen for a local TV station a few months ago. He’s not built for this life. But he’s the first to call me out when my head’s getting too big, and the first to push my buttons, and the first to show up with a shovel when we need to bury a body. He’s as normal as they come. He’s one of my brothers. And he doesn’t give two shits what’s in my bank account, because he knew me back when I tried to ask a girl to prom by spelling out her name in toilet paper on her front lawn during a rainstorm.”

  “Oh my god, Beck, only you,” she says with a shake of her head.

  “Nobody else would believe that story.”

  “Oh, I think they would.”

  “That’s what my sister says too.”

  “So now I’m like your sister.”

  “No, you’re definitely something more.”

  Her breath catches, and her eyes go wary again, and I realize I’ve backed her against the wall, my hands on her soft hips, and my face inches from hers.

  “I’m in your bubble,” I say quietly.

  But I don’t move.

  And she doesn’t push me away.

  “I didn’t notice,” she whispers.

  “I’m that forgettable?”

  “That comfortable.”

  “I was going for magnetic and sexy, but I guess I can take comfortable. Better than smelly. Or revolting.”

  “Beck?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and do something about being in my bubble before I let my trust issues take over again.”

  It’s the smile that does me in. That sweet, amused, yes, you’ve talked me off my cliff smile that has me lowering my head and rubbing my lips against hers.

  So fucking soft. And plump. And I smell honey.

  Her fingers curl into my shirt, and I suckle her bottom lip while her eyes slide shut and a sweet, shuddery breath slips out.

  Kissing her is like discovering a new flavor of ice cream. Sweet and perfect, but better. With a deeper flavor, a smoother finish, fresher everything.

  She presses her chest against mine and parts her lips, her tongue making a tentative swipe, and fuck, I should’ve googled double orgasm last night instead of jacking off while fantasizing about her, because if I can’t live up to her expectations, I’m done.

  Over.

  Time to throw in the towel, accept that this is my life, exactly how it is, and I’ll never have anything more.

  But I want to be good.

  I want to be so fucking good for her. The best she’s ever had.

  I shouldn’t. We have a contract. She hates publicity. I can’t escape it.

  All of this is a bad idea.

  I reluctantly pull back, even though I want to keep kissing her until I can’t breathe or think. “Better?” I whisper.

  She drops her head to my shoulder, hiding her eyes, still gripping my shirt. “I need one more minute.”

  “Take your time. I’m grounded until Saturday. And if you need more of the kissing, my lips are here all day.”

  Her soft laugh is everything I need to know that we’re going to be okay.

  And when she lets me wrap her in a hug, this doesn’t feel like a favor to an accidental friend.

  It feels like so much more.

  Twenty-Five

  Sarah

  I should not have kissed Beck.

  Because now that I’ve kissed him, I can’t stop thinking about him. And thinking about him when he’s sitting right there next to me, on a very comfortable low-back red leather couch in one of the apartments under his penthouse, is making me want to kiss him again to see if it was a fluke, or if my heart would start to flutter and if my nipples would pucker and if I’d get that hard, irrepressible yearning in my lady bits.

  “You’re sure you don’t want makeup?” Charlie asks me for the seventy-billionth time.

  Beck sighs. “Charlie. Knock it off. She’s gorgeous just as she is.”

  “I can see that, and you can see that, but the trolls of Internetlandia are assholes.”

  “Put too much on, and I’m a whore,” I say. “Not enough, and I’m trying too hard to make a statement. I’m comfortable just like this. I don’t want to be gorgeous. I just want to be me. Okay? Let’s get it over with.”

  “Let’s enjoy it,” Beck corrects. “You’re about to tell ten million gossips that they’re doing their job wrong.”

  “I’m about to tell the world that I owl-bombed my high school prom to get myself labeled as a sexual deviant with a thing for deep-throating giant penises and dragon tails.”

  “Ohmygod,” Mackenzie gasps.

  I gape at her. “You didn’t google me when all I’d tell you was that my prom was awful and got taken wrong in the media?”

  “No. Why would I do that? I don’t want to know Serendipity. You’re too awesome as Sarah.”

  And now I’m going to cry. I gulp back an emotional land mine, and it sits in
my gut like a cannonball that’s sprouting spikes. “You might not want to stay for this then.”

  She snorts. “I took the day off work to be your good luck charm. Shut up and take my help. Especially since if you don’t, I’ll have to go be the drooling frozen mime in front of Cooper fucking Rock.”

  She ends with a glare at Beck, like it’s his fault she’s obsessed with the Fireballs.

  “One phone call and I could get the whole team over, if you’d rather,” he offers.

  I shove him lightly when all the blood leaves her face and maybe her shoulders and arms and abdomen too. Her feet are probably swelling up like overinflated punching balloons and any second now she’s going to explode toes-first and save me from doing this video.

  Okay, yes, I have problems.

  Beck’s right.

  I need to find a way to enjoy this.

  Own the story.

  “Mackenzie. They’re just people. It’s okay,” I tell her.

  “Sarah. They are not just people. They’re…they’re…they’re gods.”

  “Do not tell Cooper she said that,” Beck breathes to me.

  “Kinda understood,” I breathe back.

  “This is all fun and embarrassing for all involved,” Charlie interrupts, “but are we filming a video or are we taking a walk down Cooper Rock Lane?”

  “I would so walk down that lane if I could breathe when I was in the same room as him,” Mackenzie sighs.

  Charlie shoves a phone at her. “Let’s do this.”

  I blow out a breath and shake my hands out.

  “Hey.” Beck takes them both in his hand—seriously, the man has ape hands too, with these long fingers that are genetically unlikely to be real, but I’ve never heard of finger extensions, so since he’s not a robot, they must be real, and I suspect they can probably do some fairly marvelous things to my body—and he sets them on my lap, squeezing gently while his opposite thumb softly rubs my shoulder. “It’s just you and me talking to a weird square box that will take over the world one day, okay?”

  I snort indelicately. Yes, that was kinda funny. And also possibly true.

  But more because his touch is shooting strange awareness vibes all over my body. Not just between my legs and to my breasts, but also to my knees, which are tingling pleasantly, and to my ears, which are getting hot, and to my ribs, which seem to be melting into a happy matrix of cotton candy and butterflies.