Sometimes It Is Rocket Science

by Thorpe, Kara

  “Blindfolded, naked, and half-drunk.” Dan laughed at his son’s horrified expression.

  Robert was unsure how far to take the conversation. They hadn’t seriously discussed women or relationships since he had been in high school. It was awkward but also nice. They rarely talked about anything other than work.

  “I expected it to be easier,” Robert mused.

  “Like those women you dated up in New York?” Dan shook his head. “This isn’t New York, and Georgie isn’t one of your typical girls. You can’t impress her with your wealth. You can’t intimidate her with your intellect. You’re equals.”

  Robert considered his father’s assessment. With Georgiana, it did feel like they were on equal footing. She didn’t play coy games. He didn’t have to weigh her words or look for hidden meanings. He didn’t have to exhaust himself living up to the rich, playboy stereotype. He could relax, be himself. Just enjoy being with someone. Not have to worry about leading someone on or the inevitable breakup. He could be happy.

  Prask and Tab’s accident aside, he was happy.

  “I want to marry her,” he murmured.

  “I had hoped that was your motivation for proposing to her,” Dan said, a note of censure creeping into his tone.

  “Yes. Yes.” Robert shook his head. He schooled his face into a nonchalant mask and rose from the table. “Enjoy your time at the club, Dad. Allan drop you off and be waiting to pick you up. Do not overtax yourself.”

  “Have fun dismantling Prask’s empire,” Dan called out after his son.

  Georgiana knocked on Tab’s door. At his call, she slipped inside the room. Clothes were strewn across the bed and the nightstand. With a resigned sigh, she started collecting the discarded shirts and pants.

  “Flat front chinos. Tan. We bought six pair last summer. Pick the pair that doesn’t fall off. Pale green polo.” She perched on the edge of the bed and began folding pants. “Wear a belt and tuck your shirt in.”

  A hand, mint green polo dangling from the fingers, extended from the depths of the closet. The bottom of the shirt was wrinkled, but, it had been on the small side when they’d purchased it, so it wouldn’t highlight the weight he’d lost since the accident.

  “That’s the one,” she said. “Socks. You can wear brown boots if they aren’t scuffed.”

  Tab stepped out of the closet as she finished folding the last shirt. She set the shirt on the pile of clothes at her feet and stood. She used her fingers to arrange his hair so that it didn’t fall into his eyes.

  “You need a haircut.”

  “Can we go this weekend?”

  She blinked back tears and straightened his collar. It was ridiculous. All she’d wanted for months was for him to heal. Now that he was, it made her cry. “Sure. Whatever you want, Tab.”

  Tab caught her hands between his. Shadows gathered in his eyes. “Are you okay with this, Gigi? Do you think it’s wrong that I’m going out? That I’m having fun?”

  “Oh no. Not at all.” She hugged him tightly. “It is horrible that those two men died, but you didn’t. You lived, honey, and now you need to actually live. You can’t spend the rest of your life mired in despair. You’re far too young for that. You have to laugh. Play. Study. Work. Love. You can be sad sometimes, and that’s okay, but you can’t let the accident destroy you.”

  Tab kissed the top of her head. “I think I’m ready to try seeing someone again.”

  Georgiana pulled away, studied his face for signs that he felt pressured. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. No one’s forcing you to do anything.”

  “I want to. I’m tired of it being so hard just to get out of bed in the mornings. I want to do all those things you said.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to go to Stanford.”

  She gasped theatrically and pressed a hand over her heart. “All the way to California? There are plenty of good schools right here in the South, young man.”

  “At least it’s not Boston,” he laughed.

  She shuddered, pulled a face. “Snow. Blech. Never again.” She sobered, stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ll follow your lead, honey. We’ll do whatever you think you need to do.”

  “Thank you. I mean it, Gigi,” he insisted when she tried to brush off his gratitude. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. You are the best sister anyone could ever ask for.”

  She snorted. “Prask wouldn’t have tried to have you killed if it hadn’t been for me.”

  “If you hadn’t loved me so much,” Tab said. “If you didn’t care about me, Prask wouldn’t have been able to use me against you. I want to help Dan today. I want to do something to make Prask pay. He made a mistake thinking he could mess with our family.”

  The fresh tears that stung her eyes were happy tears. There was so much of their father in her brother. Tab had Jerome Collier’s fervent devotion to family and strong sense of fairness. “Dad would be proud of you.”

  Tab blushed. “I hope so.”

  “He would. Trust me. Mom would, too.” Georgiana rocked back on her heels at the thought of the mother she doubted Tab remembered. “I’m sure Bobby has a summer internship waiting for you, but how do you feel about taking a trip as soon as school is out? We could shock the hell out of Aunt Clara by popping in for a visit and work our way up to New Orleans.”

  “Could we see where Mom grew up?”

  “Of course we can. I’ll show you where Grandpapa Michel’s family lived in Houma. Mailloux is the Cajun side of the family, remember? And the house outside New Orleans where Grandma Laura lived is open for tours. If you think this place is something, wait until you see the Hibbard house.”

  “Do you think Bobby will come with us?” Tab asked.

  Georgiana hesitated. Would Robert be interested in exploring their Mailloux and Hibbard roots? She envisioned a low-key road trip full of cozy, possibly-haunted bed-and-breakfasts, restaurants off the main roads, and stopping whenever a road sign looked interesting. They wouldn’t be staying in five-star hotels or dining at the finest restaurants. She wanted to explore old cemeteries and dance with Tab in Jackson Square.

  Actually, she wanted to dance with Robert in Jackson Square, too. Wanted to lose herself in live jazz and chicory coffee and the feel of Robert’s arms around her. She could picture it so clearly in her head, could practically hear the music.

  She would ask Robert about the trip for Tab’s sake. She would pray he’d agree for her own sake. If he declined, it would be impossible to say who’d be more heartbroken.

  Chapter Thirty-One:

  The workshop felt twice as large without Mercedes parts covering the floor. Georgiana hadn’t planned on cleaning out the shop so soon, but with Dan and Tab gone and Robert tucked up in his home office, she hadn’t quite known what to do with herself. She was too preoccupied with Allan’s trip to Dallas and Prask’s impending downfall to concentrate on the reports Yvonne had sent over. She was too worried about Tab to work on her personal projects.

  She’d considered talking with Robert, but his office door had been closed and she respected his need for privacy. She’d tried watching television, but not even a Top Gear marathon had managed to hold her attention. Giving in to the restlessness, she’d donned an old pair of faded jeans and equally ancient t-shirt and headed down to the shop.

  Between the brassy Dixieland music she’d instructed NORA to play and the mindlessness of cleaning, Georgiana felt her spirits improve. She wasn’t ready to swing from the chandeliers, but the ball of anxiety in her stomach had eased. She mentally planned a dinner of jambalaya, sweet cornbread, and the banana pudding Tab adored.

  “Georgie dear, there is a tow truck approaching the garage. Estimated time of arrival is forty-five seconds.”

  The broom fell out of Georgiana’s hands. “What? How did it get through the gates?”

  “Robert Norwood granted the vehicle access approximately two minutes ago.”

  Georgiana swiped the sweat and grime off her forehead with the sleev
e of her t-shirt. She jogged out of her shop and walked through the door separating the workshops from the garage just as the tow truck was backing up to an open bay. Robert, still dressed in his suit, was directing the driver.

  “Bobby?”

  “Close your eyes!” he instructed without turning around. “Don’t open them until I tell you.”

  Stunned, she complied. She felt foolish standing in the garage with her eyes squeezed shut. She heard the driver offload something large and heavy before heading back down the long driveway. Whatever he’d delivered smelled like dust, gasoline, and grease. At least two of those were among her favorite scents.

  “Just a moment, doll,” Robert said. Footsteps circled the unknown object. Warm hands settled on Georgiana’s shoulders and directed her three steps forward and two steps to the right. “Okay, open your eyes.”

  She did. She had to rub her eyes to make sure wasn’t hallucinating. She pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. It wasn’t until black spots obscured her vision and her head swum dizzily that she remembered to breathe.

  “That’s a 1970 Buick GS 455 Stage 1 convertible in Gulfstream Blue,” she whispered reverently.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Mom drove a car just like this in her first big movie.”

  “No she didn’t.”

  Georgiana scowled up at Robert. “Yes, she did. There’s a photo on the wall in my room upstairs. I’ve had it since I was a kid. Whenever anyone mentions Mom, that’s the publicity photo they show.”

  “She didn’t drive a car just like this one. She drove this exact car.” Robert smiled, closed her gaping mouth with a gentle finger. “I found it with a movie memorabilia collector in Baton Rouge. He was reluctant to part with it until I informed him that I would be returning it to Corrine’s daughter.”

  The car looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to its body, and it was coated with dust. Two of the windows were busted. The doors didn’t close properly. She was afraid of what the interior or the engine looked like.

  It was the most beautiful car she’d ever seen.

  “You bought this for me?” She ran a finger across the hood. The lights were cracked and the hood was speckled with rust.

  “Your last restoration was done as a chore and not for pleasure. I thought your next rebuild should be special.” He turned one of her hands so that the palm was up and set a ring of heavy, silver keys in the center of her palm. He curled her fingers around the keys. “It’s yours.”

  “Thank you.” Keys in hand, Georgiana let excitement wash over her. She’d always admired the car but had never thought of buying one for herself. Never dreamed of owning the one her mother had used for that first, iconic movie.

  “Do you want to help me?” she asked when it looked like Robert was going to return to the house. She wanted him to stay, wanted him to share her joy. Working on the Corrine Mailloux Buick GS 455 convertible with Robert would be bliss.

  “Auto shop wasn’t my favorite class, doll.”

  “I want to put her back the way she was when Mom drove her. That means research and tracking down parts. An internet scavenger hunt.” Georgiana peered through the dirty window into the backseat of the car.

  “Oh, Gigi,” he purred, lips so close to her ear they stirred her hair, “I can’t properly research the backseat until it’s been thoroughly tested.”

  Her mouth went dry. She would have liked to pretend with Robert for a few more days, just to put off the heartache, but private moments were rare. She had to set them straight before they were interrupted by family or business.

  “It’s the best present anyone’s ever given me, and I don’t think I’ll ever find the words to thank you for it. But I’m not going to have sex with you, Bobby.” Georgiana fixed her eyes on the dented door. Robert was standing so close she could feel the heat wafting off him. It was distracting. Enticing.

  “You don’t want me,” he said, voice rich with disbelief.

  She laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, I want you.” She shifted so that she was closer to the car and further from Robert. He was just too tempting. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give in. Thanks to the wonders of modern, battery-operated technology, there are plenty of other ways to ease my… tension.”

  “Do I get the privilege of knowing why I am being rejected so completely?”

  She risked a glance at him. Anger and frustration glittered in his eyes. His lips were drawn into a thin, tight line. With his rumpled hair and handsome face, he was the picture of a vengeful pagan god.

  “As utterly amazing as I’m sure a round with you would be, it’s not worth the fallout. Tab needs you. You are so wonderful with him, and he can’t lose anyone else.” She slumped against the side of the dusty car and pocketed the keys. “Your father is a good friend. He’s been my mentor for years, and I like to think he values our friendship, too. And I… you’re my best friend, Bobby.”

  “I’m not asking anyone to give anything up, Gigi.”

  “Do you really think that if we have our fling, things will automatically go back to normal after?”

  He raked a hand through his hair, spun away from her on a growl. He paced a short, rapid circuit in front of the car. “What do you mean ‘after’?”

  A lump rose in her throat. Her hands went cold. She couldn’t feel her legs. Her head felt detached from her neck, and a stone settled in her stomach. The bastard was actually going to make her say it.

  “Georgiana,” he snapped, stopping in front of her.

  She summoned every ounce of courage and bravado she possessed. She’d never really mastered the art of putting on a society mask, but she was a quick study. Georgiana squared her shoulders and held her head high. She met Robert’s glare.

  “After you get tired of me.”

  Robert threw his head back and laughed. Georgiana’s face went tight. Bitter tears welled in her eyes. Her head was spinning; her vision blurred. It was like the bottom had dropped out of her world. She’d always expected Robert to come to his senses, but she hadn’t dreamed it would hurt so much.

  She tried to speak, to say something urbane and blasé so he wouldn’t realize she was falling apart, but her tongue felt swollen. She forced her concrete legs to work. She only managed one step before Robert backed her against the car and pinned her in place with an arm on either side of her shoulders.

  “You are the smartest person I know, Georgiana, but you can be a real featherbrain sometimes,” he said. The anger had left his tone. His voice was different, huskier. There was a note of something she didn’t dare describe.

  “Thanks for that.” She swallowed hard when he leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead.

  “I don’t believe in sweeping, dramatic declarations,” he started. “I won’t make empty promises about never hurting you and never letting you down. That’s simply unrealistic. If pretty words and grand gestures are what you’re looking for, then I’m sorry.”

  “Bobby -.”

  He stilled her lips with a gentle finger. “I don’t want to go to another dinner or a party if you’re not going to be at my side. I don’t text you a dozen times a day because I think you need a babysitter, but because I can’t stand not having some contact with you. I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning. I want little girls with blonde hair and green eyes and a desire to challenge the laws of physics.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek and onto Robert’s hand. His finger fell away from her face. She licked dry lips. “This is who I am, Bobby. I get over-invested in my projects. I’m learning to appreciate the finer details of running a business, but I’ll never enjoy it the way you do. I don’t thrive on being an active member of the social scene.”

  “I’d rather spend a night with you at home, even if we’re in different labs with a wall of glass between us, than attend a premiere or charity gala with another faceless girl.”

  Hope fluttered in her chest. She squashed it before it could take wing. “You say that now, but the
novelty will wear off eventually.”

  “You’ve changed since your father’s death. Tab’s changed since his accident. Where is it written that the Collier family holds the exclusive rights on personal growth? Who says that this started when I moved to Houston? That it hasn’t been building?” He clamped his hands on her shoulders and gave her a small shake. “And I’m getting damned tired of you telling me what I do and don’t feel. It’s terribly presumptuous of you, Gigi. If the tables were turned, you’d rip me to pieces.”

  “You want me.” Hope refused to stay suppressed.

  “Not just for a one-night stand or a fling. For the rest of my life.” He stroked his hands down her arms and linked his fingers with hers. His lips were curled in a contented smile. “I love you, Georgiana.”

  With a stifled sob, Georgiana leapt at him. He released her hands so that he could grab onto her hips to keep her steady. She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face in the hollow of his throat. Fat tears streamed out of her eyes to collect on his collar.

  His hands moved slowly, hesitantly, across her hips to the small of her back. “Gigi?”

  She sniffled but didn’t pull away. “You can’t take it back.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  He propped his chin on the top of her head. His arms were like steel bands around her waist. Relief rushed through her like a tidal wave. She sank against him, soaking in his solid strength.

  “Good,” she sighed, lips moving against his warm, damp skin.

  It was hard to dismiss years’ worth of fears and long-held theories, but she couldn’t deny the evidence. Robert loved her. That love was his motivation for wanting to marry her. He wanted to go ahead with the plans they’d half-heartedly started making. He loved her.

  She swallowed a giddy laugh.

  “Georgiana.” He lowered his head to kiss the curve of her cheek. “I don’t want to come across as pushy, doll, but is there something you’re forgetting?”

  She shifted so that there was a hand span between them. His nimble fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to caress the sensitive skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Lightning raced through her veins; she arched against him with a gasp. She wanted more. She wanted his lips on her skin and her hands on him. She wanted everything.