“Glad you’re enjoying it,” she said in a distracted tone, still taking the two of them in. “Well, guess I’ll cruise and leave you two to it. I…”
The buzzing sound coming from down the street drew their attention. Barrett leaned out the door and scoped out the otherwise peaceful community.
“It’s the Power Squadron,” Stacy explained.
They came into view, a group of women power walking—Stacy would never tell them they looked like ducks—and power talking—the buzzing sound. They wore matching pink T-shirts—made by Stacy, of course—with flamingos in bomber gear. Arlene, as usual, was pushing a triplet’s baby stroller filled with her blue poodles. The group all glanced at the house at different times, and each stopped when they saw Stacy and Barrett standing in the doorway holding hands. To cover their blundering and stumbling, they waved, said hello in too-high voices and pushed onward.
Nita gave a long-suffering sigh. “Might as well join ’em, since there doesn’t seem to be any other interesting ways to increase my heart rate tonight.”
The buzzing grew louder when Nita joined the squadron. They couldn’t believe Stacy had snagged the smart guy. Well, phooey on them. It was okay if she didn’t believe she could snag a guy like Barrett, but they didn’t have to look so darned surprised.
“That ought to hold them,” she said, noticing he hadn’t released her hand yet, enjoying the feel of smooth palms and pencil calluses and hoping he’d hold it for a while longer.
He was studying their hands again. “This holding hands thing is interesting.”
She tried not to sound too horrified when she said, “Interesting like Nita’s Tater Tot casserole?”
He turned their hands at an angle. “Interesting in a different way.” He met her gaze and said, “Arousing.”
“Arousing,” she repeated in an airy voice, not sure if she was agreeing or clarifying that he’d actually used that word.
He rubbed his thumb over her skin, back and forth. He had hands more suitable for a carpenter than a research scientist. They were strong, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. The kind of hand that would look really good sliding across her stomach or down her thigh, for instance.
She was standing in the pink foyer surrounded by the flowery couch and palm tree prints and she wasn’t grossed out by the Florida decor because she was totally, completely aroused by the feel of his thumb moving across her skin and his fingers tightening over the back of her hand. The fact that he was aroused, too, even if he didn’t actually mean the sensual meaning of the word, made it more arousing yet. She didn’t even think about how tragic it was that she was getting off on the most innocent of touches because it had been so long since she’d had any kind of touch.
He met her eyes after another few moments. “Definitely more interesting than the Tater Tot casserole.”
When she heard the whining sound, she had the horrible suspicion it was coming from her. She was relieved to trace it to Weasel Boy, who was staring at Barrett with desperation in his brown, bulging eyes. Barrett let go of her hand. “Guess he’s feeling left out.”
She gave Weasel Boy the evil eye for interrupting. “Guess so.”
They returned to their half-eaten plates of the casserole, looked at each other, then at the plates.
“I have cereal,” he said with a shrug.
“Sounds good to me.” She scooped the casserole down the garbage disposal. Even if he ate bran flakes, it would be better than…she turned to find him pouring kid’s cereal into two bowls.
“I used to love this stuff!” She slid into the seat and poured in milk.
“Used to?”
“Well, I got out of the habit of eating sugar-coated, peanut-butter-flavored cereals. When you grow up with an older lady, you eat a lot of bran cereals. Granny thought fiber was God’s greatest creation, right next to prunes and chocolate.”
Nothing could look more out of sync than Barrett holding a box adorned with a cartoon pirate. They sat down to eat.
“What kind of kid were you?” she asked. “I’ll bet you were way ahead of all the kids your age, huh?”
“Intellectually, maybe, but not in any other way. I was terrible at sports and games. I was the first kid to get out during dodgeball and the last kid to get picked for a team. It didn’t help that I was always the smallest kid in the class.”
“I’ll bet PE was the only class you didn’t ace.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I even failed recess. And I was accused of being every teacher’s pet. I couldn’t help that I related to them better than the other kids in class. I had always related to adults better. I was unpopular even back in kindergarten.”
“But you were only a little kid then.” She was beginning to see how tough it was to be supersmart.
“Unfortunately, I was the first person to tell them Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny couldn’t exist. I laid it out logically until they saw the truth. I thought I was doing them a favor, dispelling a myth that had no purpose. Three mothers called my parents to complain. Nobody liked me after that.”
“And here I thought you’d had it easy. I always wanted to be smart.”
“And I always wanted to be like everyone else.”
Wow. She never thought she’d feel sorry for someone as smart as Barrett. “But it got better in college, right?”
“When I started attending college, I was barely fifteen. I was surrounded by students who didn’t seem to have time to do much else but party and think about sex. I had friends, only they were the professors and research scientists my father socialized with. I managed.” He nodded toward her bowl. “How is your cereal?”
“Better than the Tater Tot casserole.” She wanted to ask him more about his childhood, but he was apparently finished talking about what must have been a painful time of his life. Could they have been more different? She’d had to struggle with every test, particularly math and the sciences. But she hadn’t been very popular, either, growing up in a retirement community, raised by her grandmother. She’d been way low on the cool scale.
She shifted her gaze to the aquarium in case she gave away her sympathy. All of the snails were gliding along their branches. If she asked him about the study, maybe she could spend the whole evening with him. Maybe they could practice holding hands. Maybe…
She stopped those selfish thoughts. He had work to do. The only reason she had offered to be his girlfriend was to be nice, right? To help him out. Not because she thought she had any chance of making Barrett fall in love with her. Certainly not because she was falling for him.
That would never do. He’d become bored with her in no time even if he were interested to begin with, which was probably ninety degrees away from reality. And she wanted a baby. Barrett was eyeing Weasel Boy with concern. He’d be way out of his league with a baby.
She tilted the bowl and drained the remaining milk into her mouth. “I’d better let you work,” she said, pushing her chair back and taking her bowl to the kitchen. “Come on, Weasel Boy. Let’s leave the scientist dude in peace.”
Weasel Boy wasn’t budging. He followed Barrett into the kitchen when he put the bowls in the dishwasher, then to the foyer where Stacy was waiting. But he was firmly at Barrett’s heel.
“You must really like dogs,” he said at the same moment she made a grab for the dog and landed face first on the floor.
“I love dogs,” she muttered as she made another futile grab.
Barrett was watching as she played tag with Weasel Boy all around his legs. “Then why don’t you have one?”
“Granny was allergic to animals, so growing up, I couldn’t have any pets.” Another lunge, another miss. “We compromised when I started bringing the problem dogs home from the Humane Society. I kept them outside, of course. It worked out pretty good.”
“But you could have a dog now.”
“Yes—” her hands slid over the dog’s slippery body “—but the problem is I want all the dogs at the shelter. I can’t look
at those faces and pick just one to adopt. I wish I had acres and acres of dogs, cats, rabbits…everything. So I’ve continued to bring them home and spread my love out to a lot of them.”
He scooped up Weasel Boy and handed him to her. “Because you’re a nice person.”
“Yeah, real nice,” she said breathlessly. When she met his gaze, he looked almost…disappointed. Nah, she must be misreading him. “I got it from Granny. She was a saint.” Weasel Boy started wriggling in her arms. “Well, I’d better go.” She wanted to stay. Bad. But she reminded herself about his deadline and opened the door.
“What about your being my girlfriend?”
She stopped mid-movement and turned. “What?”
“What are we supposed to do? To convince the neighbors?”
Her shoulders deflated. Boy, he really was afraid of those women. More precisely, afraid they’d interrupt his work. “Oh, that. We’ll make a few appearances. That should do it. Nothing that’ll distract you from your work.” She gave him a wave. “See you.”
He grinned. “I see you, too.”
NITA JOINED the women at the corner just out of sight of Stacy’s house. “She’s pretending they’re dating, I just know it.”
“Wait, here comes Ernie.”
He was putting a lot of effort into appearing casual as he strolled down the sidewalk. Occasionally he glanced behind him, then around. As soon as he turned the corner, he sped up.
“Well? Are they?” they all asked.
“I never give up my secrets to the enemy,” he said with a lift of his chin. “Not even if you torture me.”
“You’re spying for us, you dingy!” Betty said.
He took them in with narrowed eyes. “But how can I be sure of that? Maybe you’re all just pretending to be on my side. Maybe you’re double agents. I’m good at ferreting out the bad guys. That’s why they made me a spy in the war, you know.”
“We know, we know already,” Nita said. “Out with it.”
“They called me the Black Gopher. That was my code name.”
“All right, Black Gopher, out with it!”
He lifted his chin. “I never cracked under the interrogation. No matter what they did to me, I held my secrets. I…ah!”
“Give it up!” Nita said, a firm grip on his earlobe.
“All right, all right! You’re dislodging my sonic ear, woman!” He pushed it back in. “I pretended to be watering my plants when they was by the door talking. They didn’t have a clue I was listening. They used to call me the Black Gopher, you know.”
“We know! Are they or aren’t they?”
He nodded, pride gleaming on his face. “It’s a charade, all right, just like you said.”
“Like I said,” Nita said, releasing her hold. “That’s just the kind of thing she’d do to protect that man from us.”
Betty said, “But I think it’s more than that. She really likes him. She’s got a glow about her.”
Annette gave it some thought. “Yeah, now that you mention it, she does.”
“So what’s our game plan? The usual?” Arlene asked.
“No, it’s different this time. Barrett’s different,” Frieda said.
Ernie nodded. “He does seem like a good guy. Gene’s son says so.”
“Not like some of those other guys she’s brought around.” A chorus of agreeing murmurs went up. Ernie said, “It took a lot of convincing until that last guy believed Stacy was part of a Mafia family. I should have used the line I used the time before that with the dinner theater actor.”
“But it’s so mean to make up stories about Stacy’s mental health,” Frieda said.
“Maybe we’ve finally found the guy she deserves.”
“And she’s everything we said Barrett needs in a woman.”
“She looked so dang disappointed that we didn’t see it at workout earlier,” Arlene said with a slow shake of her head. “I feel just terrible about it.”
“We were only thinking about ourselves. Game plan, game plan. Well, they’re already pretending to be dating, that’s a start.”
“But you know our Stacy. She’ll be diligent about not distracting him from his important project.”
They all nodded in agreement. Then Nita got a glimmer in her eyes. “So we force their hand. Call their bluff. She’s protective of Barrett getting his project done, right? If we keep bluffing about trying to set him up with our offspring, she’ll have to spend more time protecting him. More time with him.”
Betty rubbed her hands together. “Ah, and what if we come right out and tell her we don’t believe her? Tell her we want proof?”
They all put their hands in the center of their circle, cheered, “Power Squadron, unite!” and pulled their hands away with a flourish.
“Oh, by the way, Arlene, good work nixing that grooming job for Stacy. It wasn’t the right thing for her. What line did you use this time?”
“The one about her escaping the loony bin. It seems to do the trick.”
Betty smiled. “We’ll find her the right man, and then the right job. Hopefully the assistant director’s position at the Humane Society will open up soon. That’s where she belongs, not grooming dogs.”
“Or working at a pet store.”
Ernie had a glint in his eyes. “Maybe we can give that assistant director a little nudge….”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I can’t bring Elmo back in?” Stacy stared at the phone and imagined RJ’s lean face and military-style haircut on the other end. She’d called to tell him she was keeping Elmo for the night.
The director of the shelter cleared his throat. “Naomi took in some boarders. Five of them.”
“We only had four cages available.”
“That would be the problem with bringing Elmo back. Look, I’m not pleased about it, either, but the woman with the dogs gave us a very generous donation. She had to fly out of town to attend a funeral, and she had no one to watch her dogs. I can’t put Elmo in a cage with any of the other dogs, because he’s so small, and the woman said all the dogs had to be kept separate. Sorry, Stacy, but you’re going to have to keep him for a few days. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
She glanced at Weasel Boy, who was staring at the front door and whining. Yeah, he was going to be real grateful, wasn’t he? “You’re right, it’s not a problem. He’s fallen in love with the guy next door.”
“Good for you, Stacy. It’s about time.”
“Not me! The dog!” But even as she denied it, her heart gave a funny dance inside her at the thought.
“Maybe you can convince him to take the little guy, then.”
“Forget it. He doesn’t believe in romance. I mean, he’s not comfortable around dogs.”
“I’ve gotta run. Thanks for helping us out. You’re the best.”
When she walked into her bedroom, she was drawn to those pieces of paper taped to her dresser mirror. She couldn’t walk in here without looking at them. Which was good because then she didn’t notice the clean clothes in a stack on the floor waiting to be put away or the unmade bed. Granny would be ashamed of her. What would she think about this unorthodox way to start a family?
She looked at the sperm donor profiles. Which one, which one? These were her top picks. Smart, talented, healthy. “Eeny, meeny, miny…” Her finger dropped to her side. She just couldn’t decide. Why? Every time she thought she’d made a choice, she changed her mind. The calendar reminded her she had mere days before ovulation. She fell back on the bed and pulled the gingham comforter over her head. Why couldn’t she commit?
FOR HALF THAT NIGHT, Barrett watched the snails and made diligent notes. Unfortunately, they were about Stacy. He couldn’t figure her out, and more important, couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t get her out of his mind. When she left, he felt strangely empty. He’d never felt that way before. He knew it had something to do with her, or more precisely, her absence. So he sat down at the computer and started charting what he knew about her.
She was n
ice. In fact, everything he knew about her was involved with her doing things for others, things she didn’t necessarily want to do. Now she was doing something for him just to be nice.
Then there was the hand holding. Now that was something. He’d never admit this to anyone, but he felt a little out of touch with the world. Like when he saw groups of people socializing and laughing at things he didn’t get at all. Or couples strolling arm in arm. He’d never once seen his parents hold hands or nuzzle each other or perform any mating rituals.
He’d always figured he wasn’t inclined to that kind of affection.
But when he’d held Stacy’s hand…he’d connected with her. For the first time, he’d felt emotionally connected to another person. To Stacy.
He shot out of his chair, ready to walk next door. He sank into his chair as reality set in. He was sure his parents had felt some degree of desire, enough to marry, at least. Look how that had ended.
Here he was feeling, well, aroused, and she was just posing as his girlfriend to be nice. He grimaced at that. He didn’t want her to be nice to him. He wanted her. To want him.
Go back to the first part, he reminded himself. And don’t forget that you’ll soon be in another country studying the rain forest. He tried to remember how excited he’d been at the prospect. He glanced at the snails. She thought they were cute. She saw angels and dogs and dragons in clouds. She wished on falling stars.
He tried not to see the dreamy sparkle in her eyes.
He was leaving the country for two years.
With a sigh, he closed her file and went back to work.
6
DESPITE THE LATE NIGHT, Barrett was up early. He ran the perimeter of the neighborhood, took a shower and started working on the snails. He made four charts for each season, with graphs for water levels, temperatures and snail activity. At sunrise, he moved to the back deck. Normally he wouldn’t have noticed the dappled sunlight on the white concrete deck or the scent of jasmine from the bush in the corner of the yard. Or the waves of light as the sun reflected off the small pool. He wouldn’t have been aware of the back door opening next door, of Stacy’s voice calling, “Weasel Boy, stay in the yard!” He would have been so wrapped up in his work that he wouldn’t have put the picture of Stacy’s face with her voice. Or thought of her spandex-covered bottom.
Driven to Distraction & Winging It Page 6