Brainy and the Beast (6 page)

I was glad to see the outlines of our place as we neared the lot on Western. I was anxious to get out of the car and get Grant away from Henry. The kid had been restless, nudging my seat with his knee, sighing, cranking his window down, then up. I could just feel him bubbling with something more to say. Fortunately, though, Grant saved me the trouble of telling him to get over to our car. He hopped out without a word and walked toward the Volvo.

“I can print your invoice if you want to wait a minute.” Without looking too closely at Henry, I hurried inside. I could hear Rum and Coke barking from the interior office.

The bell over the door clanged softly as Henry stepped up to the counter. I mentally urged the printer to go faster.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

My thumb hit the space bar, and I heard a protest from the computer. “What?” His pink bow tie caught my eye. Why had I not noticed it was pink?

“I asked if you’d like to have dinner with me.” The blue eyes were on me, moving between my hands and my face.

“Dinner.” I pushed the keyboard away.

“Yes. Dinner. The meal that is usually eaten in the evening.”

“With me.”

A slow smile crossed Henry’s face, and I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me. “You.”

I scratched my chin. Okay, I kind of hadn’t expected this. “I thought…”

He waited.

The guy didn’t waste any words, did he? “Well, it’s just that… I thought—”

“Yes?” He leaned an arm on the counter, the leather elbow patch on his jacket catching my attention for a second.

“I didn’t think you were interested, if you want to know the truth.” I flicked my thumbnail. “When the dogs attacked you, shit, I figured that was the kiss of death.”

Henry’s silky brows curved upward. Man, the guy looked sexy when he did that. “Hmm. That wasn’t the highlight of the afternoon, no.”

“And then Grant shot off his mouth today.” Christ, why couldn’t I keep my own shut?

“Yes, he did. Still, I’m willing to overlook that.”

“You are? You are. Uh, good. Okay. Um, when?” Cripes, did I have clean clothes at home?

“Do I make you nervous?”

I forced a laugh. “No! No way. Come on.”

“Good. How about tomorrow night?”

I nodded.

“Seven?”

I nodded again.

Henry smiled, this time actually showing his teeth. For a moment, the slight overlap of the front two caught my attention. “I’ll need your address to pick you up.”

“Oh.” Yeah, like I’d let him anywhere near Grant again. Or worse, my dad. “Maybe I’d better, uh, meet you somewhere.”

“Okay. If that’s what you’d prefer.” Henry tossed his keys in his hand, and once again, the movement caught my attention. “How about if we meet at Lovell’s? Are you familiar with it?”

Who wasn’t? “Yeah. I haven’t eaten there, but I was planning on taking my dad there for his birthday next month.” Former NASA astronaut Jim Lovell and his family had opened the restaurant in 1999.

Outside, I could see Grant pacing impatiently by our car. I gave him the evil eye, just in case he could see through the window.

“All right. Then I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.” Henry pulled the door open.

“Yeah. Okay.”

* * * *

I was halfway home with Grant and the dogs before I realized Henry had left without his invoice. “Damn it.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Grant was still sullen.

“Uh, yeah, you did, but that’s not what I was cranking about.” I spun the wheel to turn onto Rockland Road. “I forgot something at the shop, that’s all.”

My house was all that was left of an old farm up in Knollwood, and it dated from the late nineteenth century. I’d bought it eleven years ago from an elderly grandson of the original owner. The old guy hadn’t wanted to sell to a developer, and I’d gotten lucky. Over the last decade, I’d traded some work on the house for work at the garage, and so far I’d gotten the roof repaired and a good amount of the plumbing fixed. The electrical was still kind of haphazard, with a bit of updating done by the previous owner, but every now and then, we got a reminder of the age of the wiring when we popped a fuse.

I pulled into our gravel drive and parked off to the side, in front of the detached garage. My dad’s Lincoln was near the kitchen door, so I was pretty sure dinner would be ready soon. My stomach rumbled right on cue.

Once again, Grant tried to hop out as soon as the car stopped. I grabbed his arm. “You want to tell me what the hell you were trying to do back there?” I was hard put not to growl the words.

The kid stared straight ahead. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I don’t know.”

Giving up, I released him with a sigh. “Whatever. Go wash up and help Gramps set the table.” Why did I think that because I’d been a teenager once, I could figure this one out?

I let the dogs out and walked back to the mailbox before going inside. The house sat on five acres, and I counted myself lucky to have been able to afford a parcel this size in northern Lake County. McMansions on a minimum half acre surrounded me, and my old farmhouse managed to hide behind loads of old trees. The rambling white frame structure didn’t exactly match the modern idea of squeezing a huge house onto a small parcel of land. It was one of the things I liked most about it. I knew the dogs loved it. They could rustle up squirrels and chase chipmunks until they were blue in the face and never leave my property.

I shrugged off my jacket, then hung it on one of the hooks in the mudroom before poking my head into the kitchen. “Smells good.”

“Uh-huh.” My dad kept stirring whatever was in the pot. “I made spaghetti from your mom’s old recipe. Thought I’d give it another try.”

Really. “That sounds all right.” Last time hadn’t turned out so well, though. Kicking my work boots to the tray, I stripped off my coveralls and threw them into the laundry basket that sat next to the washer and dryer. That’s when I noticed the basket was overflowing. I walked through the kitchen to yell, “Grant!”

“I think he went up to his room. Seemed in kind of a hurry. You boys get into something?” Dad reached into the fridge and pulled out a chunk of cheese.

I frowned. “You’re using real cheese? What the hell kind of doctor did you go to today?” If my dad was making this a real dinner, something was going on.

Snorting, Dad rolled his eyes. “Relax, will you? He said I’m fine. Mostly I should start eating less processed food and more green things. Besides, with a kid in the house, it’s better to make things from scratch, right?” He raised a brow at my T-shirt and black boxer briefs. “You going to put pants on for dinner?”

“Maybe. You expecting company?”

“I just think you should lead by example with Grant here.”

Whenever my dad sounded reasonable, I could never argue with him. Over the years I’d tried, believe me. He just stayed calm and didn’t react to my provocations. “I hate when you remind me to try to act like an adult. You know that, right?”

Laughing out loud now, Dad shooed me out of the kitchen. “Get going.”

I stopped to whistle the dogs in through the front door and managed to trip over Grant’s book bag where he’d thrown it at the bottom of the stairs. “God
damn
it, Grant.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, I stopped at Grant’s door. He had the front bedroom, with my dad across the hall. There were two more, the biggest of which was mine, along the back of the house. The fourth bedroom had no furniture in it, though, since I’d never figured out what to do with it.

I banged on his door, making it shudder in the frame. Then I banged again when he didn’t answer. That got him to yank it open. “
What
?” All the belligerence a teenage boy could possibly put into one word came through.

“I told you to set the table. And the laundry hasn’t been done for a few days. You’ve got some work to do.”

“Aww, Uncle Nick.”

“No whining. Just get it done, young man.” Young man. Jesus, I sounded like my dad.

“Whatever.” Flouncing away, Grant aimed a kick at an innocent shoe he’d left in the middle of the room. The shoe headed straight into the closet, hitting the back wall with a resounding
thud
. Grant jerked his head around, probably anticipating that I’d ream him a good one for that.

“Nice aim, kid. Guess the soccer practice is paying off.” See? I could be all adult and stuff. I pointed a thumb at the door. “Meet you downstairs.”

I rubbed the back of my neck as I went into my bathroom. This business of raising a kid was getting to me. Right then I cursed my sister with the foulest language I could conjure—all behind the safety of my closed door.

From what I’d heard of the place, Lovell’s was kind of fancy. Saturday evening at six o’clock, I had a towel around my waist and was busy digging in my closet for something to wear. When was the last time I’d been on an honest-to-God date?

If I had to really try to remember, it was probably too long ago.

“Where are you going?”

I answered Grant without looking. “Out for dinner.”

“With who?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be ‘whom’?”

“Yeah, like you’re a teacher or something.” Grant wandered into my room, poking at the things I had on the dresser, then came to a stop near the closet.

“Hey. You can thank your grandmother for that.” My mother used to drill grammar into me; God knows why she thought I’d need it.

“I don’t remember Gram that much.”

Saddened, I paused in my search. “Yeah. That sucks, kid. You were, what, maybe eight when she died? It’s too bad you don’t remember. She was something else.”

“Did she know about you?”

“Huh?” I found the blue shirt I’d wanted to wear. “There you are.” I figured it would go pretty good with the wool slacks my mom had given to me the Christmas before she died.

“You know. That you…you like guys, right?”

I pressed my lips together tightly and stared at the clothes in my hand a moment. Just how much was I supposed to tell this kid? How did parents know what to say at a time like this? “Yeah, she knew.” Straightening my shoulders, I moved to lay my clothes on the bed.

Grant sat on the bed. “So, are you going out with that smart guy?”

Surprised, I narrowed my eyes at him. “How’d you know he’s smart?”

Grant fiddled with the down comforter, then looked up at me. “I could just tell. Plus, he had an ID badge for Renton. One of the geeks there came to talk to our class last month.”

“Well, yeah. I’m going with him—with Henry. And yeah, I think he’s pretty smart. Probably way smarter than me.” I shucked my towel and yanked on clean boxers, then pulled on my pants.

“I bet he doesn’t know how to change his own oil, though.”

Thinking about that, I had to grin. “I bet he doesn’t either.” Wait. Had the kid just paid me a compliment? “What are you and Gramps having for dinner?”

“Pizza. But he’s making us eat a salad first.”

“Don’t let him put any of those radishes in there.” I shuddered at the thought.

“I know. I hate those things.”

I took a deep breath. “If you want, when you come by the shop after school on Monday, I’ve got a ’66 Mustang in for some work. I can show you how to change the oil. If you want.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay. That would be cool.”

After Grant wandered downstairs, I buckled on my watch and checked my wallet.
Shit
. I couldn’t put it in the back pocket of these pants—that bulge would look too weird. I’d have to stick it in my leather coat. “Stop acting like a teenager, for Christ’s sake.” I tended to talk to myself quite a bit. Now that I had a couple of people living with me, that had occasionally gotten embarrassing.

Downstairs, I grabbed my coat out of the closet, along with the cashmere scarf my mom had also gotten me that last Christmas. The temperature had dropped again, and I figured we were actually back to normal for midautumn.

“Dad? I’m going.” I called the words toward the kitchen, where I could hear Dad and Grant talking.

“Okay. What time will you be home?”

“Seriously, Dad?”

Now I could hear the two of them giggling. Jeez.

On the drive to the restaurant, I tried not to think too hard about the evening to come. Lovell’s was about fifteen minutes from the house, so I was there before I knew it. I parked in the lot and stared at the gray limestone building, trying to relax my breathing.

The architecture was really nice. It reminded me of places I’d seen on the Travel Channel. The flagstone patio was empty now, of course, but it had to be great in the summertime.

A glance at the Volvo’s clock showed that I’d gotten there way early. It was about twenty to seven, so I had time for a drink before I’d meet up with Henry.

Inside, I slung my jacket across the back of a bar stool.

“Evening, sir.” The bartender wiped the shining counter before setting a coaster down. “What can I get you?”

“Bacardi and Coke.” I stared at the giant horses behind the bar. The painting stretched the entire length of the wall. “Nice.” I nodded at the mural.

“Yeah. It’s supposed to be Apollo and his horses bringing the sun. Cool, huh?”

“Who’s Apollo?” I watched the bartender assemble my drink.

He shrugged. “One of the Greek gods from Olympus, way back in the day.”

“Oh. Yeah. Him.” I nodded as if I’d known it all along. When he simply grinned as he passed my drink over the bar, I shrugged and rolled my eyes.

I took a sip, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. The place was quiet, soothing. The bar was near the entry, and the main dining room was off to my right. There were two couples down at the other end of the bar, talking in muted tones, and music was playing, something jazzy and low.

Okay. I was on a date. Well, technically, not yet, since Henry wasn’t here. But still. This was a little out-there for me. Normally, I’d be going to a hot spot down in Chicago, looking for a good time and then calling it a night. But now… What exactly was I supposed to do on this date?

“Good evening, Nicholas.”

Henry’s deep voice sounded in my ear, and I swallowed a small ice cube. “Hey.” I coughed. “Uh, hey.” I got to my feet and grasped the hand he extended. His skin was warm.