Geek God (Forever Geek Trilogy #1) (8 page)

“I can’t. I can’t tell you what I’m thinking because you’ll think I’m nuts.”

“I already think you’re nuts. I love it.”

“You’ll think I’m saying things to force your hand, and that’s not what I’d be doing. We just can’t talk about it, Evan, because it’ll turn into something it’s not supposed to.”

I’m crying and yelling and pacing, and he’s just standing there, a look of total patience on his face. I hate that. I hate how calm he is when I’m having a meltdown. As if he’s perfectly fine just waiting around while I have my momentary freak-out and then resume the conversation.

“I know what’s going on. Your father told me.”

“Told you what?” I’m going to kill my father if he dared pressure Evan to propose to me.

“That you’re hoping they’ll move into a condo and give you their house.”

“Are they insane? I don’t want that house.”

“You don’t want a swanky mansion?” His laugh is too mocking for my satisfaction.

“No. I want your house, you nincompoop. I’ve always wanted a house like yours.”

“Then why in seven hells won’t you live there now? That makes no sense.”

“I’ll live there when I’m ready.”

“Well, I live there now. And it’s where I’m going tonight.”

“I can’t stay there tonight. I have work to do here.”

“I didn’t invite you.”

Woosh
. Is he really leaving? He’s not going to sleep with me tonight?

“Evan, don’t. Don’t be angry.”

“I’m trying really hard not to be, Jill. But honestly. If you’re not going to talk to me about this, if you’re going to keep secrets and not tell me what’s going on in your head, it’s a little difficult to keep calm. So, it’s better that I go.”

“Sit down. Please.”

I try grabbing his bag but he’s stronger than I am. A fact I’m normally happy to live with.

“Will you talk to me?”

So I tell him everything. How Mom has somehow succeeded, for once in her life, at planting a suggestion in my head that just won’t go away. How I’m afraid now that he knows why I’m waiting to live with him, that he’ll propose just to get me to move in, and I’ll never know if he did it because it was what he truly wanted, or if it was a means to an end.

“Why are you laughing?”

“A means to an end? You think I’d propose just so we’d live together? You think the only reason I’d want to ask you to be my wife would be so that we could shack up? There are a whole other host of reasons to get married. You don’t have to worry about forcing my hand, Jillian. I’m a pretty self-sure guy. When I propose to you, you should know it will have nothing to do with ultimatums from you, or your mother. It’ll be based on my heart and nothing more.”

“When you propose?” I think I stopped listening after that.

He pulls me onto his lap and smothers any further comment with his lips.

Some time later, after we’ve both dozed and I’ve accomplished no work other than helping us both feel very good about ourselves, he smoothes my hair.

“You’re a funny creature, you know. Life with you is never dull.”

I’ve heard that from my parents my whole life. The only difference is they never made it seem like a compliment.

“Y
ou’re sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Really sure?”

“Yes!”

I take the For Sale sign that the real estate agent left behind and hang it in the window.

“Because if your friend Nick is right, you could have this place sold in less than a week. Then that’s it. You’re stuck with me.”

“I’m stuck with you no matter where I live,” I say, planting a kiss on his cheek. “What? Are you having second thoughts now about me living with you?”

“No. And I’ll evict the guys in a heartbeat if you ask me.”

“We can’t kick them out. Where would they go?”

“They’re grown men, Jill. Not helpless puppies.”

That might be the case, but I’ve gotten used to seeing their weirdness around the house. One of these days they might have to go, but not yet.

“What are you going to do all day?” he asks as he pulls on his work boots. Business has picked up for him in this neighbourhood since he finished the work on my house, and he’s now working on some sort of heat conversion for the bakery.

“I’m going to pack until the open house starts, and then Ingrid, Melanie, Liz and I are going to play a new scenario I found for Fiasco. It’s set in Rome.”

Evan kisses my forehead, his trademark move. “Look at you, running a role-playing game and letting your friends play with you. Where’s my closet geek from last year?”

“Selling her house and moving in with her hot geek lover.”

I run my fingers through his hair and bring his lips to mine, nibbling on his lower lip, my trademark move I know turns him on.

“Mmmmm. Maybe I should skip work this morning.”

“Nope. This is just a reminder of what’s waiting for you at the end of the day.”

“I’m going to miss your soaker tub. Mine’s not nearly big enough for the two of us.”

“We’ll figure something out. Now walk down the street nice and slowly so I can admire the view.”

I swear to God he knows just how to walk to make his ass look extra appealing.

Four hours later I’m in the middle of a game with the girls when Nick calls. There are four competing offers on the house.

“Let me call Evan and we’ll meet you at the house to look at them.”

When I hang up Ingrid is giving me a funny look.

“What?”

“You’re selling your house that you bought on your own, and yet you need to discuss the offers with Evan? Where’s my fiercely independent friend gone?” There’s nothing in her tone that sounds nasty. Instead, she’s laughing. “You’ve come a long way.”

Don’t get me wrong. I know which offer to take. It’s a no brainer. The one with the most money and fewest strings attached. But I want to talk it over with him anyway, to see if my instincts match up with his. We’re going to be making a lot of decisions together in the future, and this seems like a good starting point.

Later that night, after I’ve signed the agreement to sell, Evan and I are lying in my bed. I love the way he traces random shapes on my belly when we’re talking.

“Will you miss this room?”

“Not really. I’ll miss the memories that are here, but I like the bed at your place better.”

“Our place.”

“Our place. Sure. But it’s really yours. You bought it. You fixed it up.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s ours. You have all the keys. To the doors. The windows. The shed. My heart. I love you.”

Evan doesn’t say it a lot, but when he does, he says it in a way that makes me want to cry from the sincerity of it. When he tells me he loves me, I know it’s not just words to say in the moment. When he utters those words, they come with the passion and conviction of a man taking an oath or making a pledge. That’s why I know I’m making the right decision moving in with him. Even if we fight over which slot the knives should go in the utensil drawer, or insist on having two brands of dish detergent because we can’t agree on one, at the end of the day, I love him and he loves me. Oh, how he loves me.

And so what if we’re not engaged. We’re just not engaged yet. I told you when I hardly knew him that I was going to marry Evan Sharp. And I guarantee you that it will happen.

Just you wait and see.

––––––––

N
estled along the shore of Newfoundland is Heart’s Ease. A small town big on romance. While Victoria’s Forever Geek trilogy is a sweet story where all the steamy bits stay under wraps, consider yourself warned. There’s some serious heat in Heart’s Ease. Check out this excerpt from
Against Her Rules,
Book 1 in the Heart’s Ease
series.

——

T
he light on the GPS indicated he had arrived at his destination. But Campbell Scott found himself perched near the edge of a cliff with nothing around him but short, stumpy trees that looked like they’d battled to the death with the wind and were just refusing to die gracefully. This was not the best start to his week. He’d spent the better part of two hours flying above St. John’s while the pilot waited for the all-clear to land in the thickest fog Cam had ever seen. It made the fog of London seem like a fine mist.

He’d programmed the location of the bed and breakfast into his GPS and set off, only to find himself lost in a series of small communities that began with the word Heart. Heart’s Delight. Heart’s Content. Heart’s Desire. But where was Heart’s Ease? And where was the damned bed and breakfast? This was the fifth time he’d programmed in the location, and the fifth desolate location the unit had directed him to.

He’d tried calling the place to find out where in the hell it was but he had yet to find any decent cell service. He picked up his iPhone and was shocked to see one weak bar on display. It was worth a try.

The ring crackled, like he was dialing 1982, but at least it was ringing.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was older than he expected. “Hello. Is this the Heart’s Ease Inn?”

“Oh my. Are you Scottish?” the voice trilled.

“Aye. Have I rung the inn?”

“I’m planning a trip to Scotland. Where abouts are you from?”

“Glasgow. Excuse me but...”

“Oh, a Glaswegian, are you? I was hoping for Edinburgh. I don’t have any plans to go to Glasgow myself. Heard it’s a bit of a rough spot.”

Sweet lord. Even in this godforsaken small corner of the globe people had impressions of Glasgow. “Pardon me, madam, but I’m looking for the Heart’s Ease Inn.”

“Oh yes. This is it. Looking to book a room are you? It’s pretty pricy, you know.”

“I have a room booked. I just can’t seem to find the place.” He was also beginning to wonder if he wanted to if he was going to have to deal with this woman for the duration.

“You didn’t go to Little Heart’s Ease, did you? That’s on the other side of the bay, my son, and you’ll have a good couple of hours drive to get here if that’s the case.”

The woman at the car rental kiosk had warned him of that; at least he knew he wasn’t that far off the mark.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m nearby. I just can’t find the bloody place.”

“Watch your language, boy. Now where are you then?”

It was just his luck to get a schoolmarm on the line.

“I have no idea. I’m in a field.”

“What field?”

“I don’t know. It’s green. There’s grass and trees.”

“Now don’t go gettin’ snippy. Of course there’s grass and trees. Now, what else?”

Campbell looked around. “I can see water, and...oh, it’s just a field. No fence. No building. No cows. Sheep. Nothing. Just a great big grassy area with some gnarled trees.”

“Oh, that could be a couple of spots. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He could swear she was cackling with glee. “Now, what’s the last sign you saw?”

That Campbell could answer, because he still couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d even taken a picture and texted it to his sister with a terse, “Where the hell have you sent me?”

“It said Worms. Ice. Cold Beer,” Cam told the woman.

“Excellent. We’re getting somewhere now,” the woman intoned. “Was it one of them neon magnetic signs, or was it more homemade?”

“It was attached to a derelict gas station. And it was written on cardboard.”

“Oh, sure you’ve gone too far.” The woman proceeded to give him what turned out to be surprisingly good directions, and in under fifteen minutes he was driving along a narrow, pothole ridden road that wound itself around a steep cliff face. At the end of the road, past the closed fish plant, and a long yellow wharf with several small fishing boats tied up to it, loomed a hill with a sprawling yellow Victorian-style mansion with red trim atop it.

It was a three-storey building, except for the centre, which could have housed another few rooms. If this were his house, it’s where he would build his studio. It really was spectacular, even in the cold drizzle. He marveled over how the clapboard could keep such a rich colour. The salt in the air should have dulled it, yet it looked as if it were freshly painted. Several large, red burning bushes dotted the front grounds.

As he pulled up the gravel driveway he began to see why the publishers had decided to send him here. If there was any place to get inspired, this was it.

At first glance you’d think this was a desolate place. Its isolation and the sparse landscape made you think of loneliness. But then subtle things stood out. The blue jays fighting over seeds in a feeder shaped like the sun. Crisp white sheets flapping in the air, despite the mist, the clothesline dancing in the wind. Even the way all the tips of the small juniper trees pointed in the same direction. Looking toward the water, the view was breathtaking. White caps formed on the waves, and still he could see gulls riding them out with ease, as if this was their own personal surfer's nirvana.

Shutting off the engine, he stepped out and took a deep breath. The wet, cool air filled his lungs. He smiled. This might be a good project after all.

Cam slung his laptop bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. It opened before he put his hand to the knob and he was greeted by a short, white haired woman who looked to be nothing but tanned, wrinkled skin and bones.

“Scotsman?” she asked, a smile of pure joy on her face. She wasn’t a crone at all. More like a lovable grandmother.

“Ah, you’re my saviour then,” he said. “Thank you for the directions.” He bowed.

“Now, you’re a fine-looking young man. Are ye married?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckled.

“Big, tall, handsome feller like yourself. You must have a wife.”

Was this methuselan woman hitting on him?

“Aunt Ida,” a chiding voice called. “If you’re going to work here you need to remember the first rule: no grilling the guests.”

A small, well-manicured hand pulled the door wider, revealing an elegant arm, attached to the most beautiful creature Cam had ever seen—and he’d seen plenty of delicious women in his day.

Long, wavy brown hair created a mahogany frame for deep green eyes and plump, tempting red lips. She was almost as short as the old woman, with curves in all the right places. Those curves were carefully covered in a tight ivory wool sweater and jeans. The only hint of imperfection was a small streak of dirt down one full, lush breast. It looked like potting soil, and he was tempted to brush it away, if for no other reason than to say he’d had the chance to touch such perfection.