America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(54)

He taps my chest, high, but still at the top of my left breast, right where my heart is clawing for a ledge to hang on to so it doesn’t fall off that cliff it’s sitting on.

“I like dumbass Beck better than whoever you are right now,” I tell him, but my voice is froggy and thick.

“Just think about it.” He pulls back and stands and stretches, showing off those billion-dollar abs when his shirt lifts. “I’m thinking Mexican. Can’t remember the last time I had fajitas. You like steak or chicken?”

“Both,” Charlie calls from her small office across the hall. “And go buy a new computer, because I’m tired of checking your email, but then come right back to this building.”

“You just started an hour ago,” he calls back.

“And that’s long enough. Why do you even subscribe to half this stuff? You need an email purge.”

“Was she listening in?” I whisper.

“She’s the robot,” he whispers back. “So probably. But she’s super trustworthy. I programmed her myself.”

Crap, now I’m laughing in the middle of a near panic attack. “That’s terrifying.”

“I dressed up like Mrs. Potts for my freshman year high school talent show and sang ‘I’m a Little Teapot,’” Charlie calls, “but it came out I’m a little pee pot, and the football team put bags of urine in my locker every day for two solid weeks after that. If I hadn’t known how to set off stink bombs in their locker room, I probably would’ve also changed my name and moved to Liberia.”

“That’s horrible,” I say.

“It’s on YouTube, but because some dickweed actor got caught trying to screw a hole in an oak tree while high as a kite that week, I didn’t go viral.”

I look at Beck.

“Beef? Chicken? Both?” he asks. “I can do tofu, but I’ll have to follow it with a half-dozen churros and some fried ice cream, and that’ll mean I probably do need to run, but I can’t run until I know the yoga classes are all done in Reynolds Park for the day since my treadmill and I aren’t on speaking terms.”

“I can see now why your parents had to keep their day jobs,” I say, earning a snort-laugh from Charlie and a shameless grin from Beck.

“Damn right,” he says. “Both it is. But no refried beans. We learned that lesson the hard way, didn’t we, Charlie?”

“Speak for yourself, Ryder. My farts smell like candy canes.”

I should be at work. Dealing with a frog habitat issue on a proposed windmill site.

But this afternoon was worth the vacation time.

And it’s barely started.





Twenty-Four





Beck



I wake up Wednesday morning expecting more of the same as the last four days. Some hiding out, some badgering Sarah—it’s fun, and I swear she gets prettier with every smile, plus, I had some wicked hot dreams about her and maple syrup last night, and now I’m craving waffles—some conference calls, checking in with Vaughn, some group text messages with the guys, and probably a threat or seventeen from Sarah’s dad.

What I don’t expect is to see a pig snout right at eye-level.

“You better not be naked under there,” Sarah says, “because Cupcake likes sausage.”

Been a long time since I’ve been grinning before I even rolled out of bed.

“Morning, honey,” I say as she comes into focus in the doorway. She has the leash, which means the pig is moderately contained. “Miss me that much?”

“We’re doing the video,” she replies.

“You wanna shower first?”

“What?” She sniffs her pits. “I already showered.”

“I meant with me. Naked. If we’re doing this video, you owe me lessons in double orgasms.”

“Say that to my daughter again, and I’ll slice off your nipples and shove them up your asshole,” her dad growls.

“Oh, fuck! Jesus! Shit! Sorry, sir. Didn’t see you there.”

“And I’ll shove your nut sack up your nostrils,” he continues, and I don’t think that’s him practicing for a role.

“Sorry, sir. Sorry.”

Sarah’s laughing as she tugs the pig away. “Leave him alone, Dad. He’s probably still dreaming and thinks he’s talking to a prime rib.”

“And I’ll slice your dick off and peel it like a banana and feed it to the monkeys at the zoo,” Judson adds.

“Dad. Too far. That’s gross. And monkeys are vegetarian.”

I start to correct her, but realize that won’t help my case.

“I don’t understand why you let anyone traipse in here,” Sunny Darling tells me, because apparently it’s bring your parents to your fake boyfriend’s bedroom day. “Your security is appalling.”

“Mom, he gave me the code to the elevator.”

“You and these seventeen people already in his apartment. Is there anyone in this city who doesn’t know how to get in here?”

“Mom, you’re going to see him naked if you stand there longer. Come on. We got him up. Now let’s go find the avocados.”

“Who’s evil now?” I mutter to myself while I reach for my phone.