Driven To Distraction: Driven To Distraction / Winging It. Candy Halliday
smile faded when she saw Stacy. It crumpled completely when she spotted their linked hands. “You?”
Stacy nodded, wishing for one slightly—okay, really—insane moment it was true.
Barrett was still staring at their linked hands, a look of wonder on his face. He’d clearly taken the adoration thing a bit too far. Stacy squeezed his hand, and he finally looked at Nita.
“Hello,” he said with a genuine smile.
Nita looked again at their hands, as though she still couldn’t believe what she was seeing, and said, “I…just wanted to see how you liked my Tater Tot casserole.”
“We’re eating it right now,” he said. “It’s interesting.”
“Glad you’re enjoying it,” she said in a distracted tone, still taking the two of them in. “Well, guess I’ll cruise and leave you two to it. I…”
The buzzing sound coming from down the street drew their attention. Barrett leaned out the door and scoped out the otherwise peaceful community.
“It’s the Power Squadron,” Stacy explained.
They came into view, a group of women power walking—Stacy would never tell them they looked like ducks—and power talking—the buzzing sound. They wore matching pink T-shirts—made by Stacy, of course—with flamingos in bomber gear. Arlene, as usual, was pushing a triplet’s baby stroller filled with her blue poodles. The group all glanced at the house at different times, and each stopped when they saw Stacy and Barrett standing in the doorway holding hands. To cover their blundering and stumbling, they waved, said hello in too-high voices and pushed onward.
Nita gave a long-suffering sigh. “Might as well join ’em, since there doesn’t seem to be any other interesting ways to increase my heart rate tonight.”
The buzzing grew louder when Nita joined the squadron. They couldn’t believe Stacy had snagged the smart guy. Well, phooey on them. It was okay if she didn’t believe she could snag a guy like Barrett, but they didn’t have to look so darned surprised.
“That ought to hold them,” she said, noticing he hadn’t released her hand yet, enjoying the feel of smooth palms and pencil calluses and hoping he’d hold it for a while longer.
He was studying their hands again. “This holding hands thing is interesting.”
She tried not to sound too horrified when she said, “Interesting like Nita’s Tater Tot casserole?”
He turned their hands at an angle. “Interesting in a different way.” He met her gaze and said, “Arousing.”
“Arousing,” she repeated in an airy voice, not sure if she was agreeing or clarifying that he’d actually used that word.
He rubbed his thumb over her skin, back and forth. He had hands more suitable for a carpenter than a research scientist. They were strong, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. The kind of hand that would look really good sliding across her stomach or down her thigh, for instance.
She was standing in the pink foyer surrounded by the flowery couch and palm tree prints and she wasn’t grossed out by the Florida decor because she was totally, completely aroused by the feel of his thumb moving across her skin and his fingers tightening over the back of her hand. The fact that he was aroused, too, even if he didn’t actually mean the sensual meaning of the word, made it more arousing yet. She didn’t even think about how tragic it was that she was getting off on the most innocent of touches because it had been so long since she’d had any kind of touch.
He met her eyes after another few moments. “Definitely more interesting than the Tater Tot casserole.”
When she heard the whining sound, she had the horrible suspicion it was coming from her. She was relieved to trace it to Weasel Boy, who was staring at Barrett with desperation in his brown, bulging eyes. Barrett let go of her hand. “Guess he’s feeling left out.”
She gave Weasel Boy the evil eye for interrupting. “Guess so.”
They returned to their half-eaten plates of the casserole, looked at each other, then at the plates.
“I have cereal,” he said with a shrug.
“Sounds good to me.” She scooped the casserole down the garbage disposal. Even if he ate bran flakes, it would be better than…she turned to find him pouring kid’s cereal into two bowls.
“I used to love this stuff!” She slid into the seat and poured in milk.
“Used to?”
“Well, I got out of the habit of eating sugar-coated, peanut-butter-flavored cereals. When you grow up with an older lady, you eat a lot of bran cereals. Granny thought fiber was God’s greatest creation, right next to prunes and chocolate.”
Nothing could look more out of sync than Barrett holding a box adorned with a cartoon pirate. They sat down to eat.
“What kind of kid were you?” she asked. “I’ll bet you were way ahead of all the kids your age, huh?”
“Intellectually, maybe, but not in any other way. I was terrible at sports and games. I was the first kid to get out during dodgeball and the last kid to get picked for a team. It didn’t help that I was always the smallest kid in the class.”
“I’ll bet PE was the only class you didn’t ace.”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I even failed recess. And I was accused of being every teacher’s pet. I couldn’t help that I related to them better than the other kids in class. I had always related to adults better. I was unpopular even back in kindergarten.”
“But you were only a little kid then.” She was beginning to see how tough it was to be supersmart.
“Unfortunately, I was the first person to tell them Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny couldn’t exist. I laid it out logically until they saw the truth. I thought I was doing them a favor, dispelling a myth that had no purpose. Three mothers called my parents to complain. Nobody liked me after that.”
“And here I thought you’d had it easy. I always wanted to be smart.”
“And I always wanted to be like everyone else.”
Wow. She never thought she’d feel sorry for someone as smart as Barrett. “But it got better in college, right?”
“When I started attending college, I was barely fifteen. I was surrounded by students who didn’t seem to have time to do much else but party and think about sex. I had friends, only they were the professors and research scientists my father socialized with. I managed.” He nodded toward her bowl. “How is your cereal?”
“Better than the Tater Tot casserole.” She wanted to ask him more about his childhood, but he was apparently finished talking about what must have been a painful time of his life. Could they have been more different? She’d had to struggle with every test, particularly math and the sciences. But she hadn’t been very popular, either, growing up in a retirement community, raised by her grandmother. She’d been way low on the cool scale.
She shifted her gaze to the aquarium in case she gave away her sympathy. All of the snails were gliding along their branches. If she asked him about the study, maybe she could spend the whole evening with him. Maybe they could practice holding hands. Maybe…
She stopped those selfish thoughts. He had work to do. The only reason she had offered to be his girlfriend was to be nice, right? To help him out. Not because she thought she had any chance of making Barrett fall in love with her. Certainly not because she was falling for him.
That would never do. He’d become bored with her in no time even if he were interested to begin with, which was probably ninety degrees away from reality. And she wanted a baby. Barrett was eyeing Weasel Boy with concern. He’d be way out of his league with a baby.
She tilted the bowl and drained the remaining milk