Brainy and the Beast (5 page)

That made him laugh. “Really?”

Now I scowled. Okay, so at five-eleven I wasn’t the tallest guy in the room, but damn it, I could hold my own in a bar fight. “Yeah. Really.”

Anderson’s grin seemed to be real enough. “You want to take me on?”

“Hey, big guy. The boys in the motor pool learned the hard way not to mess with me.” Maybe that was fifteen years ago, but still.

“Motor pool? You served? Where?”

I straightened, standing tall. Some habits were hard to break. “Last station was at Barksdale, down in Bossier City, Louisiana.” I drawled the state name, as I’d learned to do while living among the Cajuns down there.

“No shit.
I
was at Barksdale.” Now Anderson actually sounded nice. “What year?”

A comrade in arms. “I was there for two years—’97 to ’98.”

“Mr. Shelton? We’d better leave so you won’t be too late.” Henry’s voice was smooth as silk, and I swung around to face him. He’d shed his lab coat and was once again dressed in his professor sport coat.

Thank God he hadn’t heard us fighting over him. That would have been way too embarrassing. “Yeah.” I cocked an eyebrow at Anderson and held out a hand. “Go Air Force.”

“Ditto, friend.” His grip was strong, and he took my badge with his free hand. “See you around.”

The day was a little overcast, but there was still enough sunlight to warm me as the doc and I headed to the car. I took advantage of the fact that I was walking behind Henry to check his ass without him seeing.

Sweet.

Henry unlocked the car door and got in, then reached across to unlock my side. He’d pulled on what appeared to be classic Ray-Ban Wayfarers, and I had to admit they looked good. Really good.

I slid my fingers along the red leather on the door’s interior. “Man, the Germans could build a good-looking car. Still can, for that matter.”

Henry turned the key, and I saw a brief, satisfied smile as he heard the now-smooth purr of the engine. “Yes, indeed.” He released the parking brake and depressed the clutch. “Where are we going?”

I watched him deftly manipulate the column shift and was impressed despite myself. Most folks today had never even heard of the antiquated shifter on the steering-wheel column, let alone knew how to work it. Cerebral Henry hadn’t struck me as being comfortable with the tricky parts of these old babies. Huh. “The fields are over on McKinley.” I pointed to the north. “Head that way.”

The ride was very quick. I wanted to be able to watch Henry without fear of being observed for a while longer, but all too soon we were pulling in to the parking lot of the high school athletic fields. Minivans and buses surrounded us, and for a moment I felt like I’d entered an alternate world. What the hell was I doing here—a place where families gathered, where parents came to cheer on their prodigies? Far as I knew, the ’rents probably lived vicariously through those unfortunate young souls.

Henry braked to a stop, and the sudden quiet when he shut off the engine brought me back to myself. “Oh. We’re here,” I said inanely. I tried to recover. “That was quick.”

Looking amused, Henry shoved open his door. “Yes. It was.”

Damn it
. Why couldn’t I have acted like one of the guys in the movies for just a little bit? Why was it that Harrison Ford could always come up with a good line or at least walk away looking like he knew what he was doing, while I just bumbled along, always failing to impress the studs?

I slammed my door, then winced when Henry lowered his glasses and gave me an injured look. “Sorry,” I said meekly. I camouflaged my blunder by raising a hand to shade my eyes as I pretended to search for Grant. Sudden shouting from two fields away had me turning my head, and I spotted the telltale navy and gold of Grant’s team, the Lake Forest Scouts. Dad had told me the freshman squad played first, so I was hoping I hadn’t missed most of the game. Whistles blew, and just then I could see Grant as he headed toward the sideline.

“There he is.” When Henry came to stand beside me, I immediately forgot about my nephew. Stud alert.
Whoa
. He even smelled good.

“So, Mr. Shelton. Is this your sister’s son or your brother’s?”

“Call me Nick.” Trying to appear casual, I used a sideways glance to scope him out. “My sister’s.” I felt a thrill race through me when I found him watching me.

“Nick.” Sounded like he was tasting my name. “Is that short for Nicholas?”

“Yeah. Except no one but my mom ever called me that. And she’s been gone a few years now.” I huffed a short laugh. “Well, there was one guy back in junior high. But I broke his nose, and that was the last time anyone tried to call me that.”

“Really.” Henry propped himself against the glossy black fender and pulled the stylish tortoiseshell sunglasses off. He stared at me speculatively. “So, if I were to call you Nicholas, you wouldn’t like it?” He stuck one arm of the glasses between his teeth.

“Er.” Well, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it, to be honest. “I…I guess it’s okay. You sure you don’t want to use Nick?”

“As long as you don’t try to break my nose, I think I’ll stick with your full name, Nicholas.”

It did kind of sound different when he said it. Not at all like the way my mom used to accent every frigging syllable when she was pissed at me. A shiver ran down my spine, and I could feel my dick twitch. Great. Just great timing. Kids and school buses all over the place, and here I was getting a boner.

“I’d better get going.”

Henry nodded and slid his glasses back on. “Yes. Let’s.” He motioned with one hand, and I automatically turned and began walking toward the field.

Wait. What the heck? I looked at him with a frown. “Don’t you have to get back to your office?” He was pacing next to me, his longer legs slowing a hair to match my stride.

“Not just yet. I thought I might stay a little longer.” This time, when he tilted his head toward me, I most definitely saw he was checking me out.

Oh yeah. The day was looking up.

But I felt conspicuous in my garage coveralls as we neared the field. I should have taken them off before I left the shop. The medium-blue fabric—and the grease marks on it—struck me as sore thumbish compared to the sport coat and bow tie look Henry had going on. Not to mention the Lake Forest matrons who were sitting in their nylon folding chairs or standing near the sidelines. Those gals looked like they’d just come from the hair salon, for God’s sake.

At least the coaches weren’t dressed up. I moved closer to them and zipped my jacket.

The afternoon sun was shining, and the temperature was hovering around sixty-five. We were getting a little bit of Indian summer, which was sweet. Next week the temps were supposed to drop like a rock.

I could tell the moment Grant spotted me. He was trotting along the sideline behind a couple of his teammates. There was a hesitation in his stride for a step or two as he darted a glance my way before he sped up toward the goal. I leaned toward one of the moms standing near me. “What’s the score?”

She looked me over, then slid her gaze to Henry, who was a couple of feet away. “It’s two-zero. We’re ahead.” Her blonde head turned toward the field, then back to me. “Which one is your son?”

“Uh. My nephew.” I pointed at Grant. “He’s the goalie.”

“Oh.” Her voice warmed up. “He just saved us. Niles was almost going to score, but Grant grabbed it just in time.” She smiled warmly and held out a hand. “I’m Suzie Baumgarten.”

“Nick Shelton.”

Suzie reached past me. “Hi.” Her hand hung in the air for a second before Henry accepted it.

“Henry Travis.”

“You look a little familiar, Henry.” Suzie’s eyebrows scrunched, and she scooped her chin-length hair behind one ear. “Have we met?”

“Not that I recall.” Henry pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose. He looked a little unapproachable. Maybe he was regretting giving me a ride.

That would suck.

Cheers from our side of the field interrupted. I focused on the game in time to see guys in blue and gold driving the ball down the field toward the Niles West goalie. I flicked a glance at Grant and spotted him yelling encouragement to his teammates. Who knew? The kid actually looked like he was enjoying himself.

The ball was stolen by one of the Niles players, and with a speed I could only envy, the play moved back toward the Lake Forest goal. I found myself forgetting to inhale as they got nearer to Grant. I muttered under my breath, “You can do it. You can do it.”

The ball got passed right near the marker for the goal zone. The Niles player drew a leg back for a big kick, and I froze, watching as the soccer ball shot like a bullet toward Grant.
God. Let him catch it. Let him catch it.

On the periphery I could hear parents and kids alike shouting encouragement to Grant. My vocal cords were locked for some dumb-ass reason, and all I could do was watch as the ball flew past—no! “He caught it! He caught it!” I started jumping up and down, yelling like an idiot. “Way to go, Shelton!”

Mobbed by his teammates, Grant probably didn’t even hear me. I was happy to see him acting like a regular kid, with plenty of high fives and chest bumps all around. Although I did catch the bashful look he sent my way when the rest of the team took off after the Niles team kicked it back in.

I enjoyed the rest of the game, even without understanding the positions and plays. It was so different from football; I couldn’t get my head around it. But if Grant really liked soccer, seemed like I was going to have to start boning up on it.

After the last whistle blew and the Lake Forest Scouts had won, Grant trotted over to where Henry and I were standing. I’d been surprised by the doc and his interest in staying to watch the game. We’d talked about his car some, and he’d politely applauded when Lake Forest made a good play. He’d actually had to explain some of the strategy to me, and he’d told me when Grant’s team did something smart. Figures
he’d
know how the game was played.

Panting a little, Grant looked Henry up and down, then turned to me with a frown.

“Is this your boyfriend?”

Christ.

My eyes darted between Henry and Grant, and I tried not to hunch my shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about?” I settled on glaring at my sister’s brat.

Suzie snapped her fingers, distracting me for a second. “Now I remember where I saw you!” She moved in front of Henry. “You were on the cover of
Out
magazine last month. You’re the scientist guy.”

Whoa
. I pulled my head back a little in surprise. Trying to divide my attention between my snot-nosed nephew and the now frozen Henry, who stayed hidden behind his sunglasses, I wasn’t sure whether to step in that or stay the hell out.

“Oh, I’m not gay or anything,” Suzy assured us. She rolled her eyes. “My brother subscribes. He’s the one.” She waved an arm toward one of the straggling Lake Forest players. “Benjamin! Let’s go!” Snapping her soccer chair closed, she gave me a look as she jerked her head in Henry’s direction. “Lucky you. The magazine said he’s one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors.” She had what I’d call a smirk on her face as she began strolling to the parking lot.

What the fuck? I started growling under my breath. I just wanted to get laid. I didn’t want to advertise to my nephew what I was doing or who I was hoping to do it with, and I really didn’t need some bimbo soccer mom babbling about me being lucky.

Henry cleared his throat beside me, and I rolled my lips over my teeth, trying to figure out what to say.

“So, is he?” That was the impudent pup again.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about? Why are you asking me that?” I’d never once mentioned my sex life to Grant. In fact, I hadn’t really had one in a while, what with being at the shop all day and making sure Grant did his homework at night.

“Gramps told me you’re like—uh, you know. You like guys.”

I was going to kill my father. I could see Henry cross his arms over his chest, the tweed jacket straining a bit at the shoulders. I couldn’t read his expression behind the dark lenses, but if he was pissed, he’d have said something, right?

“When did he say that?” Why was I even discussing this?

Grant stubbed the toe of one spike into the grass. “I don’t know. A while ago.”

Henry finally spoke. “Do you need a ride back to your garage, Nicholas?” His voice was a tad cooler, but I could still hear a little something at the end there when he said my name.

I hesitated. “You sure? I was going to call my dad.” When he nodded, I grabbed at the lifeline he threw. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah!” I gave Grant a warning stare. “Go get your stuff. We’ll meet you by Henry’s car. It’s the black fintail parked near the concession stand.”

Exhaling in relief, I followed Henry. If he wasn’t going to say anything, neither was I. I always figured people who wanted to talk about stuff could go on Oprah.

Mr. Denial, that’s me.

Cars loaded with kids and parents moved all around us as the team and its fans headed out. Excited Lake Forest students yelled to each other as they celebrated their victory.

Over the roof of the car, I watched as Henry fiddled with his key ring. The fidgeting struck me as odd, except that I really didn’t know him. Maybe he was a closet fidgeter. But so far, he’d been fairly self-contained. Well, maybe not when my dog was humping his leg. There was
that.

I opened the rear door as Grant trudged over. The exuberance he’d shown on the field had morphed back into normal teenage sullenness. Head down, he tossed his gear bag in, then plopped onto the seat without a word. Maybe he was rethinking his big mouth?

I considered that as I got in. I didn’t know that the kid and I had ever had a real conversation. So I guess, if I was going to be fair, I’d think it was a good sign he was talking to me. Maybe.

Nah.

None of us did
any
talking on the fifteen-minute ride back to the shop. I was figuring Henry couldn’t wait to get away from both me and the kid—and who could blame him? Yet another missed opportunity I could lay at the feet of The Bitch.