Brainy and the Beast (26 page)

Snorting, I pushed him away. “Hah. Well, I don’t pretend to understand half of the brainiac things that come out of your mouth.” I picked up my towel again, suddenly feeling shy. The strangeness of the emotion had me frowning. And I could feel his eyes on me. “Not sure why you hang around somebody like me.”

“I think I could come up with at least half a dozen reasons. And it’s my considered opinion that you understand all too much.” Henry dipped his hands in the sudsy water, finding the plastic sponge. He applied himself to scrubbing the roasting pan. “I think you’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

I scoffed at him, turning my eyes back to the task at hand. I dropped to a crouch to put the big metal pan away. This thing I had for smart guys never worked in the long run. That basic truth suddenly hit me, and a feeling of sadness washed over me. I didn’t want it to fizzle out or die from lack of interest on Henry’s part.

Undeterred by my dismissal, Henry continued to talk as he finished the last of the dishes. “You’re the one who’s brought your business to a level your father could never reach. Didn’t you tell me he was happy with the smaller customer list you used to have?”

I refused to answer him. It felt kind of disloyal, and I never should have told him that. I picked up the leftovers and carried them to the fridge.

“Since his episode in the ER, you’ve gotten your father to acknowledge his health issues, and he appears to be working on a healthier lifestyle. You’re walking with him regularly; you’ve said he’s eating better.” Henry pulled the plug from the sink, and the basin emptied with a gush. “You took your nephew in without hesitation, according to your dad.”

I darted a look at him, surprised to hear he’d been talking to my dad about me.

Henry shut the water off. “You’ve made a real effort with Grant. I’m certainly not an authority on children, but I’ve seen you try.”

I snorted in disgust. “Right.” I slammed the fridge shut. This whole holiday-family thing was starting to make me nervous. And when I got nervous, I got growly. “Look, Henry. Let’s not make more of this than it is.” I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, deciding to make a preemptive strike. “We can have a good time, and when it’s time to call it a day, no hard feelings, okay?” I looked at him from ten feet away. “You keep cooking for me, and I’ll take care of your cars. On the side, we can play in the sack and hit it like bunnies. What else do we need?” I tossed the towel over my shoulder. “Look, I’m not good at this boyfriend thing. You can’t expect too much from me.”

So why did I feel like a jerk as I watched him take a deep breath? We’d needed to clear the air, right? Make sure we were on the same page?

“I think I might have to take back what I said about you being intelligent if you believe that tripe you were just spouting.” Henry slapped the sponge into the sink. He removed the dish towel he’d tucked into his waistband. He came toward me, a serious look on his face.

I found myself backing into the fridge for some stupid reason, and I grimaced as a few magnets fell to the floor.

“So you want to just have sex and nothing else?” His blue eyes drilled into mine.

I found myself resenting the two inches of height he had on me. “Yeah. I do.” I did.

“All right. If that’s the way you want to play this.” He headed out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” I couldn’t help my plaintive question, quickly forgetting what I’d just said to him.

He stopped in the doorway and turned his head. He spoke over his shoulder without looking. “Upstairs. I would assume that, now that you’ve gorged on the turkey and brownies, you’re ready to fuck—like bunnies, I believe you called it.”

I cringed at that. “Jesus, keep your voice down, will you? And I didn’t use the word fuck.”

That made him turn around. He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing my eye to his sweet muscled biceps. Those damned sweaters he always wore hid most of his charms, but I’d seen him often enough to know what was hiding under there.

“You’re actually worried about your father and nephew hearing me? Why? If all you want to do is fuck, what’s the big deal?” He opened his arms wide, hands moving in a flippant motion. “This is a household of men. No women here to be offended by the idea of sex happening under this roof.”

“Stop saying sex, for Christ’s sake!” I had no idea why, but that made it sound worse somehow. “And Melissa’s here,” I whispered. “Not to mention her rug rats!”

His eyes widened. “Oh. Yes. Right. Wouldn’t want to offend your friend, Melissa. Heaven forfend.”

I narrowed my eyes, knowing he was mocking me. “I don’t know what that word means, but I know you think I’m being stupid.” How in the hell had we gotten into this conversation anyway?

He actually chuckled at that. “Now you’re starting to make sense again, Nicholas. More
non
than
sense
, but there you have it.”

“Are you gonna leave now?”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head dramatically. “I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, the more I think of it, I do believe I’ll take you up on your offer. Sex and cooking in exchange for my cars being repaired, wasn’t it? Although I seem to recall we had this conversation once before, and you ran out before we could finish it.” He appeared very confident all of a sudden. “I think you said the Buick needs a new water pump, right?” Those long, slender hands slid into his pants pockets, and he rocked on his heels. “I know the Mercedes needs a new radio unit. I’ve been putting it off because that scam artist in California wants too much money for it.” Nodding, lips quirked into a musing expression, Henry tilted his head to the side. “This could really work out for me.”

He left me standing there, gaping like a fish, as he headed upstairs. I heard my bedroom door thud closed. A minute later, water turned on in my bathroom directly overhead.

What the
fuck
had just happened?

I’d never been so happy to head north for hunting. Between my dad, Grant, and Henry, I couldn’t wait to get out of town. Henry was driving me nuts with his continued bargaining for car parts. He must have been spending all his free time on the classic car Web sites, the bastard. I could tell he was having a grand old time fucking with me—um, in more ways than one.

My dad had already started to bug me about Christmas dinner, for God’s sake. He wanted to make sure that I got Henry to cook it, so he kept nagging me to be nice to the genius.
Christ Almighty.

Grant? He was just all aflutter about the hunt and was reading every gun magazine I owned. In addition, he’d been to Cabela’s with my dad at least twice, drooling over all the winter camo gear. That store had everything a hunter or fisherman could ever want, all under one roof.

Good Lord. I’d created a monster.

And back to Henry? Yeah, Henry. He was a law unto himself. I swear he was trying to make me pay for whatever the fuck I wasn’t doing that he obviously thought I should. Why couldn’t we just have fun when we wanted to and not get all emotional? Was that too much to ask?

Jesus
. Even talking to myself, I sounded whiny. One of the last conversations I’d had with him played back in my head as I steered the Jeep homeward.

“I’ll be working at home tonight. Do you want to come over here? You can take my car back with you when you leave in the morning. You did say the water pump had come in, correct?”

“Seriously? You’re scheduling us to fuck based on when the pump for your Buick comes in?”

It went downhill from there. I escaped from the conversation only because Sarita marched over to my office to get me to sign something.

I did end up going over there, though. Henry’s ass was just too tempting. The son of a bitch knew it too. And yes, the damned pump was now sitting, all shiny and new, inside that monster car of his.

Now, en route home after what turned out to be several relaxing days in the north woods, I could admit maybe I’d been somewhat of a schmuck. At least the deer hadn’t talked back. Yeah, Grant did, but the kid had been so excited to be going hunting for the first time that he’d left his attitude back at the house.

I had to admit we’d had some good times together. Grant had amazingly fit right in with our group. The guys were old friends I’d hunted with for over ten years, and we readily shared all the campsite chores.

We’d hunted up in the national forest the other side of Shawano, about five hours north of us. Despite the Thanksgiving blizzard in northern Illinois and most of Wisconsin, we’d been lucky with no more snow. The temperatures had stayed in the thirties during the day and the twenties at night. The mostly sunny days had helped keep us warm.

It was pretty wild and rugged up there, but Grant jumped in with both feet. He didn’t complain once about having to sleep in the tent on the hard ground or the fact that there wasn’t a bathroom or a shower within thirty miles. He seemed to embrace having to relieve himself under the watchful eyes of the birds, though he did look at me funny when I handed him a shovel and told him to bury it in the snow.

Remembering that conversation now, I grinned as we sailed through the open road toll on the interstate. That had been quite funny. I sent a quick glance toward Grant as I accelerated after the toll. “So, kid, how’d you like your first experience at deer hunting?”

We were driving down I-94, not too far from our exit. Grant had been dozing in the passenger seat of the Jeep, wiped out from the last five days, and he’d just begun stirring the last couple of miles.

Yawning, he leaned against the door and rubbed one eye. “It was totally cool, Uncle Nick. So cool.”

I felt an inordinate pride that maybe—just maybe—the kid was thinking his old uncle wasn’t so bad now. “You did great, Grant. Learning to scout, setting up camp, cleaning the fish. I wasn’t sure we’d have any luck catching those guys.” The season was open most of the year, but the fish tended to hide in the deep waters as it got colder.

He grinned sideways at me. “I didn’t really like the fish part at first.”

Early December was too early for the inland lakes to freeze, and we’d manage to catch a few walleye, which were such good eating. “Yeah, until you had to help dress the buck, right? That kind of made the fish seem like nothing, huh?”

“Totally, dude.” Now he grimaced and I laughed, picturing the look on his face when I’d handed him the gutting knife. And I had indeed taken lots of pictures. Couldn’t wait to show them to my dad.

I’d gotten a tag for him from the Department of Natural Resources, and we’d practiced his shooting skills before we’d gone up to the hunt. We’d actually had three days in the forest; the first day was spent scouting. Grant had scared a few away at first until he’d learned to step lightly. “That was pretty funny when you dropped your gear and scared away that four-point.”

My nephew blushed slightly at the reminder.

I snorted ruefully. “Trust me. The first time I went hunting, I think I sent every buck screaming out of the forest at the noise I made.”

We laughed together at that.

“I like those camper pie things.” Humming, Grant rubbed his belly.

It had been a treat to introduce the kid to the fun side of camping. At night we’d settled into the thermal insulated blankets with a roaring fire and lots of long underwear and layers. It was easy enough to impress him with the canned-apple-pie-filling sandwiched between the toasted slices of bread. I set the forms near the fire for a few minutes, and hey presto, camper pie. We even made s’mores one night.

By the time we’d nailed down some areas where the deer bedded down, Grant and I were working well together. He really was a good student, followed all my directions, and was a big help around camp.

“Wait until you tell Gramps that you got a buck on your first hunt. He’s going to really be impressed.” We’d decided to surprise my dad when we got home instead of calling. Besides, I hadn’t had a signal on my phone until we’d been on the road for a couple of hours. We really had been in the back of beyond.

“Thanks, Uncle Nick.” Grant’s voice was quiet, and I could feel his eyes on me.

“You’re welcome, kid.” I was feeling those warm and fuzzies again.

“I know you didn’t get a buck this time because you were helping me.” He picked at the seam of his jeans.

I shot a quick glance at him, but he was now focusing on the tiny hole above his knee. “Nah. Just wasn’t my year, that’s all.”

“Mr. Ringer told me you let me take that buck when you could have shot him.”

I grunted. “Ringer has a big mouth.” I checked my mirrors and signaled, moving into the right lane. “Don’t worry about it, kid. I was happy to do it.” I really had been too. It surprised me probably as much as it had him. “Everybody has a first time, and I wanted to make sure you enjoyed yours.”

“Uncle Nick?”

“Yeah?” I slowed down for the Route 137 exit. There was a minivan in front of me, and I swear the driver didn’t have a clue.

“Um.” Grant cleared his throat. “You know—”

What now?
I pulled to a stop at the red light at the end of the ramp. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Um. How come you didn’t bring, um, didn’t bring Henry with?”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious, could he?

Grant shrugged. “Henry. How come he didn’t go with us?”

“You mean aside from the fact that he wouldn’t know the difference between a fir tree and a fur coat? Or that he’d probably faint if I showed him my Browning?” The Browning 7mm was the sweetest deer gun ever.

“Aw, Uncle Nick. I was just asking.” He pointed through the windshield. “Green.”

I stepped on the gas. “Why? Why the sudden interest in the genius, as you and Gramps like to call him?”

“Just…”

“Just?”

“I just thought that… Well, you were kind of happy on Thanksgiving, and now…”

“Now?” Where was this going?

“Now not so much.” We pulled up to the next light, and the kid met my eyes. “Gramps thinks you guys got into a fight again.”

Christ
. “You two certainly seem to be talking about me a hell of a lot.” This time when the light changed, I gunned it.