Read The Nerd Who Loved Me Online
Authors: Liz Talley
The Nerd Who Loved Me (2 page)
But he needed to ignore the memory of Mary Belle laughing, of her wearing that bikini, of that one innocent kiss beneath the swaying willow.
Yeah, he had enough on his plate without mooning over his once-upon-a-time dream girl.
But deep down, mixed in with his plan for redemption, was another reason he’d come home—Mary Belle Prudhomme.
Mary Belle looked at the column of numbers until her eyes crossed. Then she slammed a hand onto the desk and rubbed her eyes. “Crap.”
“What’s wrong?” Brenda asked, shooting her a cranky “you just scared me to death” look. As office manager for Forcet Construction, Brenda set the rules…and the thermostat at a freezing 66 degrees. Menopause did weird things to people.
“I can’t get these figures to add up. Must have written something down wrong,” Mary Belle grumped, trying to convince herself it was work that was distracting her, not her new next-door neighbor. That morning she’d seen him jogging, and that image of hot, hard male gliding effortlessly along the road wouldn’t leave her.
She shook her head, trying to clear the erotic images of Tripp, just as Tom Forcet blew into the office like a category-one hurricane—not quite fierce enough to destroy but a force nevertheless.
“I need one of you ladies to ride with Lou. She needs someone to guide and help unload a dozer.”
“Mary Belle will go,” Brenda said, not even glancing away from her computer. “I’m wearing heels and about to burn up in this frickin’ office.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at the normally affable Brenda. “We could hang meat in here.”
Brenda shrugged and didn’t say anything, making Mary Belle wonder what was up with her friend. Brenda loved Tom. Like, really loved him. The two had been skirting around their feelings for the past six months, and Mary Belle hated being caught in the middle.
“I’ll go. Having problems concentrating anyhow,” Mary Belle said, glad she’d worn a comfortable cotton sundress along with flat sandals.
Tom grunted and looked upset that Brenda had been so cold…for a woman in the midst of a hot flash, anyway.
Mary Belle pushed out the door into stifling heat and headed across the gravel lot toward the heavy equipment baking in the sun. Lou Boyd stood beside a company truck and trailer that held a large orange dozer.
“I’m your wing woman.” Mary Belle flashed a smile at her friend. Louise “Lou” Boyd wasn’t what most expected of a heavy equipment operator, but the pretty blonde was one of the best Forcet Construction had.
“Cute dress,” Lou said, doffing the bandana securing her hair and shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. “I need you to guide me because it’s a curvy driveway.”
Mary Belle climbed into the cab of the truck. “No problem.”
For a few minutes she and Lou rode in silence.
“You remember Tripp Long? The nerdy boy we caught watching us when we had that slumber party?”
“Sure. He was a sweet guy…and more than a little obsessed with you.”
“Well, he’s back in Bonnet Creek, and I gotta tell you, there’s nothing nerdy about him anymore.”
“Grew up, did he?” Lou smiled.
“In the best of ways.”
“Wasn’t his dad the one who had an affair with Reva Rodrigue, or something? It was about the time my parents died, so I don’t really remember the details.”
Mary Belle’s heart fell. Not a good memory for Tripp or Lou. “That’s what Buddy Rodrigue said happened, and the Longs didn’t bother fighting the allegations. They just left. But Buddy never liked Tripp’s dad.”
“Well, I’ll get to check Tripp out. That’s where we’re taking the dozer.”
“Huh?”
“The dozer’s going to your not-so-geeky-anymore neighbor.”
Tripp pulled out the earbuds, letting them dangle from the iPod clipped to his gym shorts, and tossed the shovel toward the wheelbarrow. Grabbing the water jug, he sat in the shade and gulped down the icy water like a man who’d crossed a desert. It felt like heaven going down, and because he thought he might be close to overheating, he tipped the jug and allowed water to spill onto his sweaty chest.
A pair of feminine gasps interrupted his impromptu shower.
He lowered his head, squinting against the blinding sun. Mary Belle and an attractive blonde dressed like a truck driver stood in the side yard. They looked shell-shocked.
“Please. Don’t let us interrupt you,” the blonde said, starting toward him with a grin.
Tripp tossed the empty jug aside and searched for his shirt. He shot a glance toward Mary Belle, who stood stock-still in the shadows. A weird sort of shoe-on-the-other-foot déjà vu washed over him as he straightened and gave his attention to the woman holding his shirt. She was familiar but he couldn’t place her.
“You don’t have to put that on, you know,” the blonde said, her eyes laughing.
Tripp shrugged into the shirt. “Sorry. Hot out here.”
Mary Belle finally moved, her loose gait and rolling hips immediately drawing his attention to the places that jiggled. “Why would you apologize? You just made my afternoon.”
He felt equal parts pleasure and embarrassment, and prayed the heat covered the blush that rose up his neck. Damn it. He acted like a horny teenager around her. Where was the Tripp Long who’d traveled Europe and dated twins for a month? Okay, it hadn’t lasted a month. But twins, for goodness’ sake.
“What can I do for you?”
Mary Belle lifted an eyebrow and her mouth twitched. The blonde laughed.
“What I meant is, why are you ladies here?”
“Tom Forcet sent me with the dozer—it’s around front.”
This was Lou? And suddenly it clicked. Louise Boyd—a year ahead of him, cheerleader, played the guitar in church and lost her parents in a plane crash.
“Great.” He jerked his head toward the front yard. “The faster I get this greenhouse down, the faster I can bring in all the materials I’ll need to start the renovation on the house.”
He headed around to the drive, trying not to notice how pretty Mary Belle looked in her simple sundress, how her curls bounced in tune with her breasts, or how she smelled like springtime.
Because he’d come to Bonnet Creek for something more important than Mary Belle.
But when he was around her, he had to keep repeating that so he’d remember it.
Lou walked around the trailer and started unhitching cables while he stood next to the woman he’d tried to forget.
“You’re doing the work yourself?” Hands clasped behind her back, she slid a doubtful gaze to him.
“I can do more than solve equations or crown a molar.”
Mary Belle frowned. “It was a question. Don’t get your hackles up.”
And that’s what he was doing. Taking offense to her words, acting as if he had to prove himself at every turn. He was not the old Tripp Long. He’d put himself through college, aced dental school and the general dentistry residency. He was a successful businessman and had penned articles on restorative dentistry in JADA. So why had he reverted back to Tripp the Drip as soon as he’d come home? Why did he feel like less of a man in Bonnet Creek?
“Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
Mary Belle studied him, making him feel more naked then he had a few minutes ago with his shirt off. “You don’t have to prove yourself, Tripp.”
“Tell that to the rest of the world, Mary B.”
“Guess I can drag my old megaphone out of the attic and shout it for you,” she said, giving him a smile.
He angled a gaze down at her. “You still have the cheerleader uniform?”
“Why? You have cheerleader fantasies?” she joked, but her eyes wouldn’t meet his.
“You were my fantasy, Mary B.”
Mary Belle set the platter into the dish drain and studied the falling shadows. It was September, hot and dreary in Louisiana, but there was something lovely in the way the light hit the dying leaves of the trees bordering the property between her house and Long House. A flash of movement caught her eye.
Tripp.
He’d been on her mind too much, especially after making that remark about his fantasies.
Flirting. It’s called flirting, nimrod
.
She wiped that thought from her mind as she wiped the chipped Formica around the sink.
“Kiki showed me a bluebird nest today,” Mary Belle’s mother said from her place at the table.
“Did she?” Mary Belle turned to her mother as she stuck the leftovers in the fridge. Kiki, the home health care nurse who took care of her mother while Mary Belle was at work, had also baked a hummingbird cake that afternoon.
Twenty years ago, her mother would have baked something to welcome new neighbors, but she was not her mother.
Tripp was as tempting as cake. But there was nothing wrong with just swiping her finger through the frosting, was there? She could make a quick trip to Long House and work on her writing when she came back.
“Let’s eat some cake.” Mama eyed the glass globe dish. “Then you can take some to Melissa and Howie.”
Mary Belle sighed. Her mother knew something was going on over at Long House, but she couldn’t remember that Howard and Melissa Long had moved to Florida right after the scandal. She cut her mother a piece, double-checked the matches were well-hidden and sliced eight big pieces of cake, setting them on a pretty flowered plate.
“You have your cake and milk while I run this over to Long House. I’ll be back in time to watch
CSI
. Stay here at the table, okay?”
“I can go where I want to. This is my house,” her mother said.
“Of course you can, Mama, but you might catch sight of the bluebird out the window.” Mary Belle pulled back the curtain and pointed at the tree line.
Her mother nodded and gave a vacant smile as Mary Belle left the kitchen.
Good. After she returned, her mother would snooze to CSI reruns and give Mary Belle time to work on the Peterson daylily farm article for
Southern Roots
magazine. She had no clue if the editors would be interested in the historic piece, but she felt nervous about counting on Buddy for the good word with
Guns and Glory
, not to mention her professional future.
The cicadas greeted Mary Belle like an old friend as she headed down the path between the two houses that she’d walked nearly every day as a girl. Tripp had been the only other kid in their isolated neighborhood when she was a girl, and her one true friend. At least he had been until she’d gotten boobs, made cheerleader and nabbed the most popular boy in all of eighth grade—Bear Rodrigue.
And what had that netted her?
A big fat nothing.
A couple of thorns pulled at her bare legs and she stubbed her toe on a tree root, but she made it through the overgrown path to find Tripp sitting on the top step of his porch, holding a beer between his knees and staring out at the shadows.
“Hey,” she called, swallowing the desire that cropped up at seeing him.
He turned, something undecipherable in his blue eyes. “Hey.”
“I brought you some hummingbird cake.”
“Don’t know what that is, but thank you.” His lips twitched. They were nice lips—not too thin, not too plump. Kissable.
What’s wrong with you, Mary Belle Prudhomme? This is Tripp. Former friend. Current neighbor. Not kissable
.
Her feet took her to the man who’d shadowed her dreams last night and who’d occupied her thoughts way too often that afternoon. “It’s got pineapple in it. I know you like pineapple.” She jabbed the plastic-wrapped plate toward him.
“You do know what I like.” He looked up at her, his words holding an extra layer of meaning, causing a trembly sensation in her belly that had nothing to do with the spaghetti she’d just eaten. Something sparked between them. Something that had never been there before.
Come on, Mary Belle. This is Tripp. You built a tree house with him, played Power Rangers in his yard and watched him pee on a rock down by the creek
.
He’s not sexy
.
He’s not intriguing
.
He’s not…sitting on the step any longer
.
“Wanna go for a walk down by the creek?” Tripp asked as he rose like Adonis from the sea. Or was that Triton? She always got her Greek gods confused.
Yes. She wanted to walk with him. Kiss him. Make love under the weeping willow with him. “Um, no. Uh…the mosquitoes will eat us alive.” And she had an article and journalism career to get back to.
But his blue eyes told her he knew exactly why she didn’t want to go to the creek.
Tripp took the platter. “Your loss.”
And it probably was, but she was too afraid to dip her toes into those waters….
After a long day of dealing with office politics between dental hygienists, Tripp could think of nothing more than a cold beer and the bulldozer vibrating beneath him.
And Mary Belle.
She wouldn’t leave his thoughts, and he kept rehashing his flirty intentions the night before.
Weird thing was…he hadn’t planned to flirt with her. But he couldn’t help himself.
Didn’t matter that he still resented the old Mary Belle for her dismissal of a geeky, vulnerable boy. Yeah, he knew she’d been a seventeen-year-old kid when she’d left him hanging at the Sadie Hawkins dance, and teenagers were by definition egotistical, but he’d thought he’d meant more to her, especially at a time when everyone in Bonnet Creek had been pointing fingers at his family. His head understood why she’d lied, but his heart had never gotten that memo.
Still, the longing for her had never gone away.
Tripp climbed out of the car and entered the hardware store with a list in one hand and his phone in the other. Maybe he’d call her and see if—
“Howard?” The voice sounded shocked. He turned to find Reva Rodrigue standing behind him holding a coiled hose.
Something inside him snapped; he wanted to grab the older woman’s shoulders and shake her until her nicely veneered teeth rattled.
Cowardly bitch.
“No, I’m Tripp.”
Her face paled and she nearly dropped the garden hose. “You look so much like him.”
Reva’s green eyes misted over and her bottom lip trembled. The anger he held tight lessened when he saw the terror and regret in the depths of her gaze.
