Nerd Gone Wild (5 page)

He would control the urge to grant her unspoken wish, but if she felt like kissing somebody, she might settle for Rudy, instead. Now there was a prospect that really would have Madeline spinning in her grave—her precious granddaughter and sole heir to the Jarrett fortune making out with a backwoods lumberjack who was missing several teeth and allowed chickens to live in his house.

Fortunately Rudy seemed like an unassuming type. So far he hadn’t shown any inclination to take advantage of Ally. Mitch wouldn’t bet that all the other men in the room had Rudy’s temperament, though, and if Ally had decided to turn into a barfly, she’d get into trouble sooner or later.

As Mitch calculated his next move, Ally continued to educate Rudy on the mysteries of female sexuality. Mitch had checked into her background months ago and knew that her sexual experience was as limited as every other area of her life. There’d been one serious boyfriend in college and another semi-serious one since then.

Both guys were now married to other women. Recently, Ally hadn’t dated at all. Her grandmother’s illness and then grief over her death had seemed to absorb the bulk of Ally’s attention.

Which meant she was ripe for attaching herself to a guy, any guy. Still, he had a hard time imagining her choosing Rudy once she sobered up. Even so, there would be others hanging around the new girl in town, and Mitch had been charged with keeping her from making a terrible mistake. Until now he hadn’t realized how impossible that might be.

Ally drained the last of her drink and pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

Mitch stood automatically. “Do you need any—”

“No. Mitchell.” She drew herself up, as if trying to look taller and more in control of the situation. She was still a foot shorter than he was, and still smashed. “I can handle a potty break on my own, thank you very much.”

He sincerely hoped so. He’d hate to be forced to go in after her.

“If s right down that hall, first door to your left. Can’t miss it. Says
Women
right on the door.” Rudy pointed toward the back of the bar. He’d also stood, and was gazing at her as if he wanted to walk her there.

Ally flicked a glance over both of them and gave them a lopsided grin. “I can deal with this. You may both be seated.”

“ Okay.” Rudy dropped back into his chair with a thud made the wood creak. “Don’t be long.” He gazed her with obvious adoration.

As Mitch also sat down, he recognized a golden opportunity to institute his latest strategy. “Rudy, I need some help.”

Rudy turned his head. “Sure thing. Here in Porcupine we help one another.”

“It’s about Ally.”

“Isn’t she wonderful?” Rudy smiled, displaying the between his teeth.

“I’m crazy about her.” Mitch put on his most sincere expression. “I’m hoping we can work things out between us.”

Rudy looked doubtful. “I don’t think she’s crazy about you, Mitchell. Sorry to have to tell you that, but she told me you were
driving
her crazy. But that’s not the same thing. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“I know. She’s upset with me. But underneath, I think she likes me a lot.”

“You do? Then why did she tell me a while ago that she thought you were a dickhead?”

Mitch winced. “Love and hate can be two sides of the same coin.”

“Or sometimes hate is just hate. Like that guy who took Lurleen away. I can tell you that I sincerely hate him. There’s no love on the other side of that coin.”

“So where is she?”

Rudy shrugged. “Don’t know. I wish she’d come back, though. Now that Ally’s told me all about women’s orgasms and such, I can work with Lurleen on them multis.”

“Maybe I could help you find Lurleen.” It might cost him some Internet long distance, but at least he might be able to get Rudy focused on a different woman. “What’s her last name?”

“Engledorfer.”

“That should make it a lot easier.”

“If you could really find Lurleen for me, that would be great, ‘specially if you have dibs on Ally.”

“Well, she doesn’t exactly know my intentions.” Now there was a true statement.

“You mean she doesn’t know you’re crazy about her? Don’t you think you oughta tell her?”

“Not yet. The timing needs to be right. So I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t say anything to her about our conversation.”

Rudy nodded. “If you’re sure. Personally, I think you should say somethin’.”

“I will. When the time’s right.”

Rudy leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “But let’s make us a deal. If you tell her, and she doesn’t want to have nothin’ to do with you, and you find Lurleen, but she doesn’t want to have nothin’ to do with me,
then
can I go for Ally?”

Mitch figured with all those contingencies he was safe. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess that would be okay.”

A
lly couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such an excellent buzz going. Dirty dancing on the bar and flirting with a rough-and-ready guy like Rudy were the kinds of thing she’d always wanted to try, but as Madeline Jarrett’s granddaughter she hadn’t dared. Grammy would have been so embarrassed by that kind of behavior.

Grammy’s embarrassment wasn’t a factor anymore, though, and Ally had enjoyed the hell out of busting loose. To think she owed it all to Mitchell. When he’d appeared, reminding her of all the restrictions she’d had back in L.A., something had snapped inside. Yes, it had taken three Irish coffees to get up her nerve, but she’d finally found her inner wild girl.

As she washed her hands and looked at herself in the dingy mirror over the bathroom sink, she decided to give that wild girl a rest. Her hair was tangled and her face flushed and puffy. Besides, Mitchell was liable to gain some advantage over her if she didn’t stay sharp.

A little food and she’d be fine. From what Rudy had told her, the Top Hat was also Porcupine’s best restaurant. Actually it was Porcupine’s only restaurant, but at least she was in the right place. She wasn’t up to plowing through snowdrifts looking for a bite to eat.

Judging from the noise filtering through the bathroom door, the Top Hat was swinging into high gear. Apparently Porcupinians knew how to party. When she stepped into the hall, whistles and rhythmic clapping nearly drowned out the jukebox. And through it all, she could hear the staccato beat of tap shoes.

At the entrance to the hallway she paused and glanced at the table where Mitchell and Rudy were sitting. Betsy was ensconced at the table with them. While “Clyde tap-danced on the bar to “Luck Be a Lady Tonight,” Betsy used both hands to beat a rhythm on the table while she wiggled in time to the music. Rudy was a half-beat off with his clapping, but to compensate he’d add an eardrum-piercing whistle every so often.

Mitchell wasn’t clapping or whistling. He looked over and spotted her, then turned away, as if he didn’t want her to know he’d been keeping watch. Instead he acted as if Clyde’s performance and the bowl of un-shelled peanuts that had appeared on the table required all his attention. He didn’t go so far as to clap, though.

Seeing the peanuts made Ally’s stomach rumble. Betsy and Rudy were tossing their shells on the floor, but Mitchell had a neat little pile in front of him. Ally shook her head. Poor Mitchell was so out of his element here. She wondered again why he’d come.

His explanation was full of holes. Mitchell was efficiency personified, which meant he tied up loose ends like nobody’s business. In the four months since Grammy’s death, he’d quietly taken care of everything, barely needing Ally’s input. Yet when she’d announced her trip to Alaska, he’d suddenly come up with a bunch of issues demanding her attention—bogus things like whether she intended to take Grammy’s seat on the board of the Historic Lampposts Preservation League.

He’d tried every conceivable argument to convince her to stay, from terrible weather reports to dire warnings about grizzlies hiding behind every tree. She’d told him the part about the grizzlies made her more eager to go, although bears were hibernating now. In the end, she’d left, because Mitchell had no power to stop her.

But he’d followed her up here, and right away, too, as if his presence were absolutely required. She couldn’t figure it out, unless… he had a secret crush on her. She hated to think that was true, because she didn’t want to be forced to deal with it. But a secret crush was the only thing that made any sense.

She was still just schnockered enough to ask him. Walking straight to the table, she quickly sat down before either Mitchell or Rudy could leap up and hold her chair.

“Welcome back!” Rudy said with a huge grin. “Have some peanuts.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed a handful. “Hi, Betsy.”

Betsy smiled as she kept drumming on the table. “Hi, yourself.”

“Enjoying Clyde’s performance, I see.”

“Not so much. He’s a terrible show-off, don’t you think?”

“I think he’s pretty good. A lot better than I was a little while ago.” Ally checked on Mitchell from the corner of her eye, looking for telltale signs of infatuation. She wondered how infatuation would manifest itself in a guy like Mitchell. Buying an open-ended ticket to Alaska was darned incriminating, she had to say.

“Well, I suppose he has a sense of rhythm,” Betsy said grudgingly. “But I don’t know why he has to put on a demonstration all the time.”

Probably because he wants to get into something belonging to you, Betsy. He thinks demonstrating his sense of rhythm will get you hot.
“I think good rhythm is important,” Ally said, hoping to help Clyde’s cause.

“I suppose. Too bad he’s so full of himself.” Betsy continued to drum on the table and wiggle.

Ally thought Betsy was a lot more interested in Clyde’s sense of rhythm than she wanted anyone to know. And as Ally listened to Rudy’s off-tempo clapping, she had new insight into why he might have lost his lady love. Bad rhythm could be extremely distracting. She couldn’t tell whether Mitchell had a sense of rhythm or not, because he was just sitting there.

Or was he? Looking closer, she noticed that his forefinger was tapping, ever so gently, on the table. In perfect time. Well, now. Chalk one up for the giant Popsicle. And speaking of Popsicles, she admitted to mild curiosity about what size Mitchell was packing under those geeky pants he wore.

That’s where four Irish coffees could land a girl, speculating about equipment she had no intention of using. But she did need to find out Mitchell’s intentions while she still had some Dutch courage left.

After fortifying herself with more peanuts and deliberately throwing the shells on the floor, she turned to him. “Mitchell, lean over here a minute.” No point in humiliating the man in public. Between Clyde’s metal taps crick-cracking on the bar and the blare of the jukebox, no one would hear her if she kept the conversation low.

“What?” Mitchell looked wary as he came closer.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to sock you in the jaw.”

“That’s nice to know.” A glint of humor flashed in his brown eyes.

He looked good with that glint of humor. It went well with the sensual shape of his mouth and his Dudley Do-Right chin. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “Mitchell, do you have a thing for me?”

He frowned and leaned closer. “A what?”

“A thing,” she said, raising her voice a fraction.

“What kind of thing?”

She rolled her eyes. Mr. Smooth Operator he was not. She’d have to be more blunt. And louder. Nobody was listening, anyway. “Do you have the hots for me?” Too late she realized the music had stopped and her words had neatly filled that little dead space between the end of the performance and the start of the applause. That very explicit question of hers seemed to echo through the room as everyone turned to stare.

Mitchell looked as if he’d been run over by Rudy’s Bronco, Slewfoot Sue. He swallowed. “Um…”

Ally wanted to crawl under the table. If she hadn’t had so much booze, she might have done it. Poor Mitchell. He was a pain in the ass, but he didn’t deserve this.

“Go on, ‘fess up, Mitchell,” Betsy said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I told you she’d guess.”

Rudy touched Ally’s arm. “He’s crazy about you. Told me so when you went to the bathroom.”