America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(41)

“Say something about my wife talking in her sleep,” Dad growls at Beck, who’s slowly rolling to his feet while clutching his stomach. “Go on. Make my day.”

“Those unicorn slippers are the bomb,” Beck replies. “Are the flashy lights aftermarket? Or did they come like that?”

We all look at Dad’s feet, and dread slithers up my spine, because Dad does not like to have his footwear mocked.

But Beck’s enthusiasm apparently seems genuine enough to pass the Dad test. He grunts and nods. “Aftermarket.”

“Nice. I had turtle slippers that sang when we were on tour. Drove Cash nuts when I’d set them off on the bus. He used to threaten to toss them to the crowd every night.”

“Turtle fucker,” Dad growls.

“Dad! Gah. What are you doing here? Why’s Mom sleeping in my bed? What about the hotel?”

“Didn’t trust this good-for-nothing nudist to not take advantage of you.”

“I think I can handle him.”

“That’s my girl. Still don’t trust him.”

“Dad. It’s bedtime.”

“It’s past bedtime.”

“Exactly.”

“Hotel’s overrun with spies. The Euranians are invading downtown. Need to get to safety.”

“Dad.”

“Sarah.” Beck puts a hand to my shoulder and squeezes, and awareness floods my skin and makes my breath catch. “He’s right. The Euranians are dangerous.”

“Do not encourage him,” I warn.

“Take cover,” Dad growls. “The basement. Go.”

“I am not—”

But Beck’s scooping up Cupcake, who’s still ramming into things blindly, in one arm while tugging my hand. “I’ve got her, sir. I won’t let the Euranians get her. You better check on your wife.”

“My wife is dead, you bastard.”

Beck deposits Cupcake in the pig bed by the no-longer-functional radiator in the kitchen and pulls me to the basement door. Meda slinks in with us.

“He used to have fun roles,” I sigh as I reluctantly let myself get shoved down the stairs. “But the Euranians? Really?”

“Could be worse. He could be building a ghostbusting machine in the backyard.”

He’s not wrong, but I don’t know how he knew Dad did that for his role in that alien movie, and yes, I said build a ghostbusting machine for an alien movie. That never made the tabloids. And if Mom’s sleep-walking, she’s probably on a bad mix of herbs and supplements.

“Fuck, I’m full. You got a couch down here I could crash on for a few?”

“Uh…no.”

I flip the basement lights, and Meda darts into the shadows. There are boxes piled all over, plus a shipping crate that we barely got down here, and shelves crammed with my childhood astronomy books.

“Whoa.”

“Good whoa or bad whoa?” I ask him.

He slumps against the only stretch of wall open and rubs his stomach. “Is that the Serenity? The actual ship?”

I glance at the movie prop, still half-concealed in a wooden shipping crate amidst other boxes, and I nod. “Dad knew somebody who knew somebody on set when they were taking everything down. They’d been storing this for me for years, though I didn’t know it. So when I told them I bought a house, they shipped it to me.”

He starts to grin. “You have the fucking Serenity.”

“You really watched Firefly?”

“On repeat for hours on the tour bus. We’d act out the scenes when we were really bored. Always made Davis play Kaylee.”

“And you were Jayne.”

He laughs. “Nah, I let Levi have Jayne so I could play with Wash’s dinosaurs. Can I take a picture? The guys are gonna shit when they see this. Levi’s been trying for years to find this thing.”

I don’t answer right away.

It’s not that I don’t trust him—he seems genuine enough, and I’ve spent enough time with him now that I’d like to think I can trust my judgment about whether he can be trusted—but I’ve trusted people before.

And while I’m pretty sure he gets it, I’m still working past old habits.

“Or maybe later,” he says quickly. He shoves off the wall and grimaces.

“Still full?”

“I’d do it all over again. That tea was amazing.”

He’s so enthusiastic about everything. Not just food. But movie props. Playing a role with my dad. Unicorn slippers.

“Do you ever get tired of being happy?” I ask him.

He barks out a laugh. “No way. Why would I? Being happy’s the best.”

“Are you ever unhappy?”

He heaves a happy sigh. “Yeah. Time to time. It sucks. But the world’s a pretty fucking awesome place. I mean, it would’ve been cool to live with the dinosaurs, but they probably would’ve just eaten us, and we’d be extinct now too, so I guess I’ll take having the internet and being able to fly to anywhere in the world and meet new people and try all the food.”

I gape at him, and that’s when I realize what’s going on.

He’s a robot.

“Take your shirt off,” I tell him.

His brows lift, but his lips spread into that slow smolder, and he does as asked, slowly undoing the buttons one at a time. “Like this?”