Brainy and the Beast (16 page)

“Uncle Nick, will you open your eyes?”

“If you poke me one more time, you’re going to get it.” His annoying method of waking me up had worked, though, so I pried my eyes open to glare at him. “What?”

“That dude is here. You know.” Grant was on his knees next to the couch, cable remote in hand. He bent closer to lower his voice even more. “Your…um, boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh.” I brought a hand up and rested my wrist on my forehead, then moved on the cushion just enough to face him.

“He’s in the kitchen.”

I couldn’t tell if Grant was worried, pissed, or what. “And?”

“He’s…he’s cooking.”

“From what he says, it’s going to taste better than when I cook.”

He gave me a long-suffering look before whining some more. “But why’s he here again?”

I sighed, dropping my arm to the blanket. “Kid, he came over to help out.” I ignored the disgusted sound my nephew made. “I don’t know about you, but I was sure as hell too tired this morning to make breakfast. And it’s not like you ever get your behind out of bed to make it.”

“I…I could. If I wanted to.”

“Maybe you should go get some hints from Henry.” I dragged myself upright, swinging my legs to the floor. I moved my gaze around the room, looking at nothing in particular, trying to wake up.

“As if.” Grant shoved to his feet, snapping a button on the remote. The television logo blinked as the unit powered on.

“What? You don’t think you could learn from the smartest person in the room?” Now my brain was starting to engage, and I wondered what the kid’s problem was.

“Duh. He didn’t even know about Pluto.”

“Uh, neither did I.”

That got me a grunt of disgust. “Dude. Like that means anything.” Grant turned his attention to choosing an input. He changed remotes, setting up his Wii game.

Stung, I tossed the blanket to the side. “Well, smart guy. I would advise you to learn what you can, while you can. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to go in there and figure out how to make Benedict Arnold.” When the kid gave me an astonished look and laughed outright, I scowled. “Eggs Benedict. Whatever. And my name’s not Dude.”

If he rolled his eyes at me one more time, I wasn’t going to be responsible for what I said.
Guh
. I barely kept myself from snarling like Coke did when I took away a rawhide.

Great. I hadn’t been bothering anyone, I’d just been snoring away, and I had to wake up to this. Although… I sniffed. Something sure as heck smelled good. I followed my nose to the kitchen.

“Whoa.”

Henry turned at my surprised sound, cell phone held to one ear. He mouthed
good morning
as he listened. He stood at the range, and his free hand turned bacon in the pan.

I scratched my chest as I stood in the doorway. The kitchen had been remodeled sometime in the seventies, and it had the dark wood and ugly beige laminate counter to prove it. The good part, though, was that the U-shaped setup was roomy. There were long counters and cabinets to my left, and I had a rectangular table that seated four off to my right in the corner by the windows.

Henry had ingredients and dishes spread out everywhere, and it looked to my inexperienced eye like a restaurant kitchen. The bacon smell had my mouth watering, and damned if that wasn’t… I sniffed again. “Cornbread?”

“No, Miranda. We’ll keep going with the phased design.” Henry hadn’t even heard me. “I’m not sure what Dr. Manfred thinks we’re going to do with the new schedule he’s just presented, but I’ll have to talk to him on Monday.”

It was then that I noticed Henry had a laptop open on my table. There were a couple of manila file folders stacked next to it, with Henry’s reading glasses on top of the papers strewn around. I wandered over there, sitting down on the far side so I could watch the man cook. I was pushing a finger through the folders aimlessly when movement from outside caught my eye. I smiled as a doe stepped delicately through the trees along the east side of my property. “You’re up a little late, girl.” Usually the deer didn’t move around too much after daybreak, although sometimes they’d get spooked and have to find another spot to bed down for the day.

I raised my arm to check my watch, idly curious how far off schedule the doe was. I frowned. My watch read ten forty-two. The big kitchen clock over the wall cabinets confirmed the time. “I slept over three hours?”

“You were exhausted.” Henry was suddenly across from me. He closed his laptop and began picking up his files. “I decided to let you sleep some more. You said you weren’t going to go back to the hospital until midday, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to wait on breakfast.”

“Oh.” I didn’t quite know what to say. Another instance of Henry taking care of me? “Um. Thanks.” I didn’t really need any help. Much.

“Do you feel a little more rested?” He scooped his things into the briefcase that sat on one of the chairs.

I yawned. “Yeah.” I ran my fingers through my hair, looking around blankly. “Um.”

Henry’s quiet chuckle rumbled as he moved next to me. Running a hand along my shoulder, he leaned down. “Why don’t you go shower? You might wake up a little bit. I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes.” I felt the heat of his breath on my ear, and I shivered.

Grant’s snide voice shattered the moment. “Ew. Dudes. Really?”

Was I the world’s worst uncle for wanting to pound the kid? I shoved away from the table—and Henry—and stalked toward Grant.

“You—” I pointed my finger pretty close to his face. “You better adjust that attitude of yours real quick.”

He backed up a half step. “Yeah? Or what?”

Grunting out a sigh, I shook my head. I borrowed a phrase from his vocabulary. “Whatever.” I looked back at him as I headed for the stairs. “I’m going to take a shower. You’d better be on your best behavior with Henry.”

“Right, dude.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Sometimes—just a very few sometimes—I’d feel like I could understand why my sister had run out on Grant. Then I’d smack myself upside the head for even thinking for one second that what The Bitch had done was okay. I didn’t
really
think that. Grant just made me question so many decisions I made around him.

About him.

For him.

I felt like the world’s stupidest uncle, mostly.

The shower felt so good I whimpered a little. The gushing hot water relaxed the tight muscles in my shoulders and neck. I lingered there for a while, just letting it pour on me.

The upstairs bathroom was original to the old house and had been built long before anyone had figured out that showers instead of baths were the only way to go. A few years ago, after I’d gotten sick and tired of using a hose attachment on the claw-foot tub faucet, I’d traded some auto repair work with my plumber. He’d extended the water piping up from the back side of the cast iron, setting the showerhead in the center. It worked great there, especially after I went all out and bought a waterfall showerhead that dumped a nice rate of water on me. At the same time, I’d also beefed up my hot-water tank. Now my shower stayed hot. Real hot.

It felt damned good to be there, and I let my head fall back as my tension eased. I washed myself, my mind pretty much blank. I was taking my time, not moving too quickly. A knock at the door disturbed me and made me realize I’d probably been in there a while. I think I just might have fallen asleep if I’d stayed there any longer.

“Uncle Nick?”

The bathroom got quiet when I cranked off the water. I reached for a towel as I glanced at the door through the clear shower curtain. “Yeah?”

“Um. Your—um, Henry said to tell you that breakfast is ready.”

Huh. That sounded like a different Grant than the one I’d left downstairs.
Hmm
. I wondered what had been going on in the kitchen. “Uh. Okay. I’ll be down in two.” Still moving in a bit of a fog, I wrapped the towel around my hips and brushed my teeth, trying to wake up. The image in the mirror was a little scary, and I had to laugh, which woke me up further. My hair was kind of hopeless, always had been; it most definitely had a mind of its own. “The hell with it.” I combed it back and waved a hand in dismissal. “Whatever.”

And it hit me when I was yanking on jeans in my room that I really was starting to mimic Grant. “God.”

I stepped into my sheepskin slippers, because I was not going to walk around with cold feet. I also pulled on a wool turtleneck over my tank-style T-shirt, which I figured would keep me fairly warm while my hair dried. I
was
kind of a weenie when it came to getting chilled. The guys at the shop were right about that.

Henry and Grant were in the kitchen when I got back downstairs. I could hear the subdued murmur of their voices as I approached, and I hung back to listen, not too proud to eavesdrop. I figured I needed all the help I could get with these two.

“Just because I said I’d be cool when Uncle Nick comes down doesn’t mean I have to be nice to you all the time.”

My brows went up.

“Young man, it’s considered good form to be courteous to guests—and to your elders. Perhaps they don’t teach that in school any longer. They certainly should.” Henry’s voice was dry, with just the slightest hint of exasperation. I could so sympathize. It hadn’t taken me long to learn that a teenager in the house meant frustration beyond belief.

“Why are you calling me ‘young man’? That sounds so…so stupid.”

“Because you are? And I most certainly am not stupid. In fact, I’m fairly sure I’m the farthest thing from it.”

I heard the sound of metal chinking against metal. I peeked around the corner and spotted Henry putting forks and knives around the table, a wry twist to his mouth.

Unbelievably, Grant was washing dishes at the sink. He was actually scrubbing at a frying pan.

“Hey. I’m fourteen.”

I watched as he darted looks at Henry over his shoulder. I couldn’t tell if he was being ornery, provocative, or just unsure.

Henry pivoted on his heel to face Grant. “Well, in four years you’ll be old enough to vote. God help us.”

I snorted softly. Henry did make me laugh. And apparently he’d touched Grant’s funny bone too, because I swear the kid ducked to hide a smile. Hard to tell though, because even from the side I could see a frown reappear.

“We’ll have to work on him, won’t we, Doc?” Sauntering into the kitchen, I grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter. “Mmm. Crispy.” I arched a brow at Henry. “You got it just the way I like it.”

“I could make a remark about that, but given your nephew’s ick factor, I’ll refrain.” Henry didn’t loosen up enough to roll his eyes, but it was there in his voice.

“Huh?” Grant tossed the dish towel on the counter and turned to face us, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ve indicated you don’t want to hear or see anything that might remind you that Nicholas and I are”—Henry’s gaze skimmed over me—“dating.”

I felt the heat from that look, as brief as it was.

We were dating. Wow. Couldn’t remember the last time I had a guy hang around long enough to call it dating. I was somewhat surprised that the idea didn’t sound too bad.

“Seriously, Uncle Nick? Really?” Grant moved to stand in front of me.

“What?” I knew my dad and Grant had talked about me. Grant had even called Henry my boyfriend. Was my nephew a homophobe? Just what the hell had The Bitch taught him? “What are you talking about?”

“Why’d you have to bring
him
home?” Grant made a face, his opinion of Henry clear.

“As opposed to a woman, you mean? Just what is your problem with me being gay? I thought you said you talked to Gramps about this.”

Grant froze, a look of distinct unease showing on his face. His teenage expressions were usually easy to read, mostly because they were the same three: morose, cranky, and sullen. Now, though, he looked… I didn’t know what his face was telling me.

“No! It’s…it’s not that.” Looking like he was going to backpedal big-time, Grant actually stepped backward.

“Well, if it’s not that, prove it.” I snagged another piece of bacon and walked to the table. Dropping into a chair under the window, I lounged back, propping one ankle on the other knee. “Sit down, have breakfast, and act like a normal human being.”

Henry bit his lip, and I wondered if I was being too harsh.

Maybe so, since Grant flushed dark red, and his hands clenched. He looked like he wanted to explode with words of some sort.

“Um.” Henry spoke tentatively. “Oh. The hollandaise is ready.” Moving efficiently, Henry dished up three plates.

I alternated between watching him and flicking a glance at Grant, who still stood by the sink. I was already feeling guilty for ramming my attitude at the kid, but damn it, I wasn’t going to put up with that kind of shit in my own house.

“Sit down, Grant.” Henry gestured with a jerk of his head as he came over with a plate in each hand.

“I’m-I’m not hungry.” Nevertheless, Grant took a couple steps toward the table.

“Right.” At that I did roll my eyes, since there was never a time that my nephew wasn’t hungry. “It’s, um, kind of a rule that teenage boys are always hungry.” I tossed him a corn muffin. The kid had good reflexes, as I’d already seen at his soccer game and when we’d sparred. He snagged it out of the air without turning his head.

“There’s a rule book?” Henry brought a third plate, sitting down at a right angle to me. He had a questioning expression on his face.

As usual, I couldn’t tell if he was serious. The man was very good at hiding his emotions. “I was kidding, Doc.” But I wished to hell there
was
a rule book for riding herd on teenagers.

He quirked his lips as he flicked open his napkin. “Yes. I know.”

Sinking into a chair at the other end of my table, Grant fiddled with his flatware. “What is this stuff?” He poked his fork into Henry’s creation.

“It’s eggs Benedict but with a vegetarian twist.” Henry used his own utensil to delicately lift the poached egg above the English muffin. “I’m not a huge fan of Canadian bacon, so I like to substitute some vegetables.” He got back up. “You need a carafe for coffee, Nicholas.” He poured for both of us, then slipped the glass pot back into the coffeemaker.