Gone With the Nerd

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  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 hips 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.

  "Are you sure you want to do that?" Flynn asked. "Maybe this is bee season in Long Shaft."

  "I can't live my life in a bubble, and this mountain air is a treat."

  "Okay, then I'll roll mine down, too, so if a bee flies in it'll have plenty of room to fly out again."

  "We won't find any bees," Zoe said. "They're all at a bee rally on our front porch." But she didn't want to talk about bees. "Let's get back to my outfit. I get the feeling you're not sold on my look."

  "I have to admit it's a little extreme. And the floppy hat is a great idea for hiding your hair, but did it have to be neon orange?"

  She leaned her arm out the open window and enjoyed the sun on her skin. "I didn't want it to match."

  "You might have overdone that angle."

  "I wondered, which is why I'm asking you. I found most everything I brought up here in a resale shop. Well, except for my plaid pj's."

  Flynn started drumming his finger nervously on the steering wheel. "Let's not talk about your plaid pj's."

  She glanced over and discovered a muscle in his freshly shaven jaw was working, too. If he was this touchy about anything remotely sexual, he had a bad case of the hots for her. That didn't bode well for his relationship with Kristen.

  Zoe was beginning to think his attachment to his girlfriend was superficial at best, if he could be rattled this easily. But she'd humor him and stop talking about her plaid pj's. Sheesh. There was nothing sexy about those.

  "I'm trying to decide what outfit to wear for the audition," she said. "Out of the three you've seen, which one screams nerd to you?"

  'Truthfully? None of them. The one you have on now screams color-blind. A nerd would have to be oblivious to show up in something that weird."

  The negative feedback didn't bother her at all. This was why she'd brought Flynn up here, and she was glad he was being honest. "So what do you think about Vera, from what you've read so far?"

  "I think she'd wear something neutral and tailored."

  "Damn. I didn't buy anything like that, unless you count the beige pantsuit, which doesn't fit very well."

  "Vera would want her clothes to fit. She's exacting, and exacting people like clothes to fit, but most nerds aren't going to want to be bothered with a bunch of different color combinations."

  "Like you," Zoe guessed. He was dressed in a white shirt and beige slacks again. But he'd left off the tie, and the top button of his dress shirt was undone. Maybe he was getting into the casual spirit of Long Shaft.

  "Like me."

  "I should have taken you with me when I looked for the clothes. I didn't think of that. I figured I'd know what a nerd costume would be, but I—Flynn, is that Luanne up ahead, standing by the side of the road?"

  "I think so." Flynn's mouth compressed into a thin line. "Don't tell me she's hitchhiking." He veered to the side of the road and stopped the car.

  Luanne sauntered up to the passenger side and peered in. "Hi! Can you guys give me a ride into town?"

  Flynn leaned across Zoe and pulled off his sunglasses. "Luanne, what do you think you're doing?"

  "Going into town."

  "By hitchhiking? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Do you realize how many sickos are out there waiting to pick up some unsuspecting young woman? Don't you read the papers? Don't you have any common sense? Walking in the woods is one thing, but this is—"

  "Wait, wait." Luanne made a T with her hands. "Let me say something."

  "I can't imagine what you can say." Flynn's body vibrated with outrage. "This is a terrible thing. I think your parents need to know that you—"

  "Let her talk," Zoe said. What an interesting interlude. As Flynn leaned over her, his blood up because he imagined he'd caught Luanne hitchhiking, Zoe was enveloped in the heat rolling off him, which brought out the scent of his Aqua Velva coupled with a nice male aroma. She liked that he was so concerned about a kid he'd met once. He'd make a good daddy, not that she should care.

  Luanne shot her a grateful look. "Thanks, Vera. So, I was walking into town, like I always do on Saturday morning to see what movie magazines have come in at the trading post, because I can never get Frankenstein to bring me any, when I heard a car. I looked back and saw it was you guys, so I stuck out my thumb, sort of as a joke, although I really wouldn't mind getting a ride."

  Flynn hesitated. "So this is an isolated incident?"

  "Well, not totally isolated."

  "Aha!"

  "Sometimes the Peabodys come by and I get a ride from them. They live down past the cabin where you're staying. They don't have kids, but they have a wiener dog named Low Clearance. We call him Low Clear for
short. He—"

  "That's not hitchhiking," Flynn said. "I'm talking about standing there with your thumb out, waiting for whoever shows up." "I never do that."

  "Are you sure? Because if you hitchhike down this road, ever, and I mean ever, I don't care how wholesome and homespun this town is, you could get kidnapped and killed."

  Luanne took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "I know that. I've known that ever since I was old enough to take walks by myself. I never get in a car with strangers. But you're not strangers."

  Flynn let out a little humph of disapproval. "We're almost strangers. You really don't know much about us."

  "I know your names, Vera Parsons and Tony Bennetti."

  Zoe subdued a pang of guilt. The disguise might be necessary, but she didn't like lying to this kid.

  "I know you're not married yet," Luanne continued. "And I know you didn't bring a deck of cards on your vacation, which is probably because you have other things to do." She delivered the last part with a smirk.

  Flynn sighed. "Okay. Climb in."

  "Thanks." Luanne opened the sedan's back door and got into the car.

  "Buckle up," Flynn added.

  "Of course." The seat belt snapped into place. "You must think I'm a total idiot."

  "No, he doesn't." Zoe decided to step in again. "He's just a careful kind of guy. And that's a lot better than a careless one."

  "I guess you're right." Luanne was quiet as Flynn put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road.

  There was no other traffic. Apparently the Peabodys and their wiener dog were on a different schedule this morning. Zoe wondered if the Peabodys let Low Clear run around in the woods at night. With Bigfoot in the area, she wouldn't let any pets outside, if she had pets, which she didn't because she was away from home so much.

  Then Luanne spoke again. "Um, Miss Parsons?"

  "You can call me Vera, Luanne."

  "Thanks! How about Mr. Bennetti?"

  "Tony's okay with me," Flynn said.

  "Great! My mom says I always have to ask first. So, Vera?"

  "Yes, Luanne?"

  "Don't take this wrong, but... that outfit's really strange."

  "I don't bother much about clothes," Zoe said. "I have more important things to think about. I live in my mind." She wasn't sure exactly what that last sentence meant, but it sounded intellectual.

  "That's cool, but I think when you have a boyfriend— not that I've ever had a boyfriend—but when you have one, which would be Tony, then I think you have to spend time in your body, too. Just my opinion. I'm only a kid."

  A soft snort of laughter came from the driver's side of the car.

  "Am I right, Tony?" Luanne said. "Or do you really like that outfit? 'Cause if you love it, then I'll butt out."

  'Tony likes neutral, tailored outfits," Zoe said.

  "Most of the time," Flynn said. "There can be exceptions."

  "Yeah, like lingerie," Luanne said. "Neutral and tailored definitely don't work for lingerie. I wish we had a Victoria's Secret in Long Shaft. I mean, I don't need it now, because like I said, I don't have a boyfriend. But when I get one, I'm up the creek without a paddle when it comes to lingerie."

  Flynn cleared his throat. "It's a little early to be worrying about—"

  "Victoria's Secret has a catalog," Zoe said. "You can go that route."

  "No, she can't," Flynn said.

  "Yes, I can," Luanne said. "That's an awesome idea. I don't know why I didn't think of it." She leaned forward as far as the seat belt would allow. "Is that what you do, Vera? Order from the catalog?"

  Zoe realized her mistake. A nerdy woman who dressed in red plaid and purple pansies, then accented the look with an orange floppy hat wouldn't shop at Victoria's Secret. "No, I don't," she said. Which was true. Whenever she needed underwear, the Victoria's Secret nearest to her house invited her in after hours for an exclusive shopping spree.

  "Maybe you should," Luanne said. "I'll bet Tony would appreciate it. Where are you from, anyway? If it's a decent-sized city, they'll have some other places where you could find clothes, like Wet Seal and Cache. 'Cause I'm not kidding. If you fixed yourself up, you'd look a lot like Zoe Tarleton."

  "I seriously doubt that." Zoe was glad Luanne hadn't pursued the question of where they lived because that would mean another lie, but she didn't like the new direction of Luanne's thoughts any better.

  "You would! Take off your hat, and let me look at your hair."

  "I don't want anybody to see my hair this morning. I slept on it wrong."

  "Don't be silly. Nobody has worse hair than me." Luanne snatched the hat off Zoe's head.

  Thanks to Philippe's excellent cut, Zoe's freshly washed hair fell out in artful disarray, looking very much like it had on her latest cover shot for People. She held her breath and waited for Luanne's reaction.

  Luanne stared at her for several long seconds. "Okay, you're going to think I'm insane, but you look so much like Zoe Tarleton that my brain keeps saying you really are her, and you're up here in disguise. And I would believe that, too, except Tony isn't Trace Edwards, and if you were hiding away somewhere it would be with Trace, because he's your boyfriend." She sighed dramatically. "So that means you're not Zoe, unfortunately. Life is so unfair."

  "I'm sorry," Zoe said. "I wish I could be her."

  "I wish I could be her! Can you imagine being a famous movie star like that? You can have anything you want, and to top it off, Trace Edwards, who is a god, is your boyfriend? She is the luckiest person in the entire world."

  "I guess that's true." Zoe wondered if lusting after a Golden Globe Award made her an ungrateful woman who didn't appreciate all that she had. Most women would give anything to be in her shoes. They would be deliriously happy knowing they were a huge box-office success and that they had the attention of a movie idol like Trace Edwards. She, however, wanted more artistic respect, and she didn't want Trace at all.

  Even more perverse, she had the hots for her lawyer, who had a serious girlfriend. Zoe hoped she wasn't the kind of person who only wanted what she couldn't have instead of cherishing what she did have.

  "Luanne," Flynn said, "I have a question." "What's that?"

  "You ... how can I put this? You don't sound like other girls your age."

  Luanne laughed. "You mean because I don't talk like this?" She took a deep breath. "I was, like, needing a ride, and you go, 'What are you doing, hitchhiking?' And I'm all, 'no, I never hitchhike,'and you go, 'You'd better not! "'

  "Exactly," Flynn said. "Why don't you talk like that?"

  "Simple. I'll be a famous actress someday, and when I accept my Oscar, I want to sound elegant. So I work really hard not to fall into those habits. Whoops, we're at the trading post! You can let me off here."

  "Then how will you get back home?" Flynn asked.

  "No problem. Somebody will give me a ride. Getting to town is the hard part. Getting home is easy. Everybody's in town on a Saturday morning."

  Zoe could see that. The parking lot in front of the Sasquatch Diner was packed with old cars and pickups that made Margo's neon Taurus look like a limo. Prosperity had not blessed Long Shaft.

  As Flynn stopped the car, Luanne unlatched her seat belt and opened the back door. "Thanks," she said. "And Vera, ditch the hat. I don't know what you were worried about. Your hair looks great. Just like Zoe Tarleton's. Bye, you guys. See you later."

  "That was almost a disaster," Flynn said as he drove the half block to the Sasquatch Diner.

  "But you saved me by not being Trace Edwards." Zoe busily tucked her hair back up inside the hat. No point in taking unnecessary chances.

  Flynn found the last spot in the diner's parking lot and slid the car expertly into the opening. "Incidentally, speaking of Trace, I really wish you'd tell him you're up here with me."

  "That would be a bad idea."

  He paused before opening his car door. "Because he wouldn't like it?"

  "Probably not." She met his gaze. "But you don't hav
e to worry that I'll ever tell anyone what goes on between us. Trace won't find out, and neither will his friends. You don't have to worry about gossip or losing clients as a result of spending the weekend with me."

  "I wasn't really thinking of that. I was more concerned with your relationship. Are you comfortable keeping this weekend a secret from him?"

  "Think of it this way—last night we found a Sasquatch footprint in the dirt and after that we made out in the woods. I don't think we want to tell anyone about either of those things, do you?"

  He swallowed. "When you put it that way, I guess not."

  "Then we're agreed. What happens in Long Shaft stays in Long Shaft."

  He continued to hold her gaze, all the while obviously working to maintain his serious expression. It wouldn't hold. He ended up laughing.

  "You see, Flynn, you take life way too seriously."

  "You could be right about that." He opened his door. "Now let's go get us a restaurant-cooked meal."

  The smells of the ancient diner registered immediately as Flynn held the door open for Zoe. He'd spent many hours in a cafe like this back in high school because there had been no other place in the small mining town to hang out.

  Years of cooking grease and cigarette smoke had settled into the plaster and the cracked vinyl upholstery. If anyone ever created an aromatherapy candle labeled Greasy Spoon, it would smell like this.

  Flynn kind of liked it, but he didn't see the Sasquatch Diner as Zoe's kind of place. On a high shelf behind the counter stood football trophies and photos of an earlier, more prosperous Long Shaft. But the pictures and trophies took a backseat to the Bigfoot souvenirs—mugs, key chains, T-shirts, stuffed animals, and bumper stickers. Twenty years ago Flynn would have bought one of each.

  A handful of customers were in the diner, and they all looked up when Flynn and Zoe walked in. Silence reigned for a couple of beats, and then everyone returned their attention to their plate, coffee mug, or conversation. Everyone, that is, except Margo, who came rushing out from behind the counter.