Tender is the Nerd (3 page)

M
iranda was
proud of her apartment. The last time she’d had Rylan over for dinner, she’d lived in a cramped little one-bedroom near campus and had been dating Frazer. Rylan had planned to bring his girlfriend but she’d come down with the flu. That had left the three of them to feast on a family sized pizza the guys had ordered. They’d all sipped cheap Chianti and played video games until the wee hours of the morning.

That was the night she’d begun to see that Frazer wasn’t the guy for her. Even at three in the morning after all that wine he hadn’t been able to let go and act goofy. Rylan was way more fun, but he was also Frazer’s brother.

Although she’d ended the relationship with Frazer years ago, she still felt uneasy having sexy thoughts about Rylan. That didn’t stop her from having them, though. Watching him sitting at her kitchen table working intently on his laptop stirred her blood.

She should concentrate on the broccoli florets, red peppers and yellow squash she was slicing for the pasta primavera instead of looking at Rylan every few minutes. She’d poured them each a glass of Chardonnay and whenever she took a sip she gave in to temptation and glanced over there.

She could get away with it because his gaze never left the screen, not even when he picked up his wine glass. He reached for it, took a drink and set it down again with Jedi-like precision. When he licked a drop of wine off his upper lip she felt a zing of sensual awareness. But his concentration was so intense that she wondered if he remembered she was there.

Excitement glowed in his expression and for that she was grateful. Passion for his work had been missing ever since he’d started creating the app. She should have figured out why a long time ago. Apparently she, like everyone else, had thought that his usual method of binging on fast food and soda and playing hard rock would yield results eventually. It always had before.

The scent of onion and garlic sautéing in olive oil filled the warm kitchen and she took a deep, appreciative breath. Fusilli pasta rolled in a slow boil on a back burner as she added the veggies to the garlic and onion. She cooked all the time but she hadn’t done it for someone else in a while.

Her girlfriends usually came over for a meal every few weeks, but everyone had been crazy busy recently and two months had flown by. The rest of her family lived in LA and she only got together with them once or twice a year. She hadn’t had a guy to cook for since her last boyfriend had taken a job in Thailand and they’d decided a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work for them.

Preparing a meal for people she cared about was part of her DNA and she cared about Rylan. Poor man had a lot of pressure on him. He’d been trying to deal with that alone but she didn’t intend to let him do it anymore.

But now she had a small dilemma. The veggies were fork-tender and the pasta was done. She’d warmed a loaf of bread in the oven and uncovered the soft butter she kept in a ceramic dish on the counter.

If she served the meal now it would be perfect. If she delayed, the veggies and pasta would become mushy and the bread would cool. On the other hand, Rylan seemed totally engrossed in his work and apparently the app creation was going well for the first time in days, maybe weeks.

Yet she’d planned to convince him vegetables could be wonderful by fixing them so they’d show off to best advantage. She decided to dish up the meal and gently try to get his attention. If he didn’t respond, she’d eat her dinner and make another one for him later on. She’d rather waste food than serve him a substandard veggie dish.

After arranging everything in two wide-lipped pasta bowls, she pulled her phone from her purse and took a picture because they were just that pretty. She sliced the bread and wrapped it in a checkered cloth before laying it in a basket. Then she took silverware and cloth napkins from a drawer, loaded a tray and carried everything into her small dining room.

Although she was still renting, her apartment was twice as big as the one she’d had in college. The two bedrooms were small, but having a dining room and a roomy kitchen with a gas stove had trumped the size of the bedrooms.

Last of all she dimmed the lights and lit the assortment of candles grouped in the center of the table. Good food was important but so was a gracious atmosphere. For one brief moment she wondered if the setting looked too romantic, but she brushed the concern aside. This was about wooing Rylan to a better relationship with fresh produce, and considering his background she’d need plenty of ammunition.

Walking back into the kitchen, she picked up the wine bottle and her nearly empty glass. She debated announcing to him that dinner was ready, but then she decided to quietly speak his name, instead.

For the first time since he’d turned on his laptop, he looked at her. She was surprised by the sharp focus of his gaze. She’d expected him to be disoriented and maybe a little muddled after his intense concentration on the app.

Instead he seemed extremely alert. “What?”

“Dinner’s ready. But if you need to keep working I’ll underst –”

“Nope.” He closed the laptop with a decisive click. “After sucking up the smell of that food, I’m starving.”

“And here I thought you were lost to the world.”

“Not at all.” He stood and picked up his wine glass. “I didn’t have my music, but that was okay because instead I had the smell of food cooking and the sounds of you moving around the kitchen. Considering the app, that was better background noise.”

“Glad to hear it.” She led the way into the dining room. “Did you make any progress? You looked as if you might be onto something.”

“I made more progress sitting at your kitchen table than I’ve made in . . .” He stopped in the doorway to the dining room and drew in a sharp breath. “Wow, Miranda.” He stared at the candlelit table. “You went to a lot of trouble.”

“I don’t consider it trouble. Good food deserves a nice presentation.”

“You certainly achieved that.” He put down his wine glass and pulled out her chair. As he scooted it in, he chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m dressed for the occasion.”

“Tonight is strictly come as you are.” His gentlemanly gesture left her a little quivery. “I’m in the same outfit I wore to work this morning.”

“So am I, but there’s a critical difference. You showed up for work in a nicely creased gray pants suit and a green blouse that matches your eyes. I arrived in jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt over my t-shirt.”

“So it’s casual Friday.” Mentioning the color of her eyes was slightly unusual. But she shouldn’t make too much of it.

“That’s not an excuse. I look like this every day. You, on the other hand, look beautiful every day.” He took his seat.

“Thanks.” She tried to stay calm but he’d just announced that she was beautiful. Anyone who made that kind of remark, especially in a private setting, often had an agenda.

Yet she didn’t picture Rylan concocting some plan to get her into bed. After all, she’d invited him to her place, so he couldn’t very well have a plan. Plus he probably had the same uneasy feeling that she did about getting involved. Their history – primarily concerning his brother Frazer – stood between them.

He put his napkin in his lap and surveyed the pasta primavera. “Looks really nice.”

She sensed his hesitation. He might have had fun shopping for the ingredients but he had an established prejudice against the taste of vegetables. It all hung on that first bite and she was a little nervous. Picking up the bottle of wine, she refilled both their glasses. “We need a toast.”

“Good idea.” He acted relieved to be putting off the moment when he had to dig into that bowl. “I have one. To Beauty and the Broccoli.”

She laughed because it was the kind of silly thing that was so Rylan. But once again he was implying that she was beautiful. She clinked glasses with him and drank. Then she raised her glass. “To Broccoli and the Beast.”

He grimaced and touched his glass to hers. “That would be me, all right.” He took a swallow of wine. “It’s a wonder you’re still speaking to me.”

“You haven’t been that bad.”

“No, I have been that bad, but . . .” He glanced at her and waggled his eyebrows. “I’m going to turnip a new leaf. Lettuce begin.”

She groaned.

“What? It’s way pasta time for me to squash my mushrooming anger before Tony cuts my celery. From now on I’ll be cool as a cucumber and I’m gonna beet this –”

“Stop, stop! Bring back the beast!”

“Nope.” His eyes sparkled with laughter as he picked up his fork. “The beast is gone. We’ll have peas in our time.” He speared a broccoli floret and popped it in his mouth.

She held her breath as she waited for his reaction.

Chewing slowly, he closed his eyes, which displayed exactly how long and luxurious his eyelashes were. Then he swallowed and looked over at her.

“
Well
?”

He smiled. “Best broccoli ever.”

“Woo-hoo!”

“Hold on. I’m still not exactly in love with it.”

“Are you at least in like with it?”

“Yeah, definitely in like. I look forward to eating the rest.”

She relaxed back onto her chair. “I count that as a win.”

“Trust me, it is. I picked my most hated thing first.”

“Brave of you.”

“Oh, I have the courage of a lion, milady.” He paused, his fork suspended over his pasta bowl. “Are you going to eat or sit there and watch me chew?”

“I’ll eat.” She picked up her fork. “Now that I’ve won the battle of the broccoli I feel much better.”

“Coming up with this plan was genius, Miranda. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I did.” She met his gaze.

“Me, too.” He held the connection for a beat longer than a friend would. As his brown eyes darkened, he looked as if he might have something more to say.

Her pulse rate picked up. She wondered if he’d begun to feel the intimacy of being alone with her as they ate dinner by candlelight. She certainly had.

But instead of speaking, he cleared his throat and returned his attention to his food.

She took her first bite and was pleased with how the dish had turned out. Her experiment was likely to be a success. As they ate he made more complimentary remarks about the food and they talked about what she’d fix the next night.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about the look he’d given her. She’d seen longing there, but resignation, too. If he wouldn’t risk disloyalty to Frazer by admitting he was attracted to her, she’d keep her feelings to herself. The bond between those brothers was too important and she had no business messing with it.

When he’d finished he divided the last of the wine between their two glasses and pushed aside his empty pasta bowl. “I need to ask you a personal question.”

At first she thought he was about to make a joke, but one glance into his eyes told her whatever he wanted to ask was plenty serious. Her heart began to pound. Maybe they’d talk about their mutual attraction, after all. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to answer it.”

“Understood.”

“Why did you break up with my brother?”

Oh, boy. She’d have to tread carefully. “What did he say?”

“Not much. You know Frazer. Holds his cards close to the vest.”

“Did he seem upset?” She’d always wondered if he’d shown more emotion over the breakup with his friends and family. With her he’d acted almost nonchalant.

“Not really, but you can never be sure with him. He might have been a lot more upset than he let on. When he suggested hiring you as a consultant for the app, he told everybody your previous relationship would be no problem. Near as I can tell, it’s the truth.”

“I feel the same way. There’s been no awkwardness. We were friends before we started dating and we’ve reverted back to that point.”

“And that’s why I couldn’t figure out the split between you two. You seem so compatible, even now. I never saw you fight.”

“That’s because we didn’t.”

“Exactly. So although I’ve seen no evidence to support the hypothesis, I’ve thought that maybe because you’re working in the same office you might get back together.”

She experienced a moment of panic. “Has he said anything that makes you think that?”

“No.”

“Good.” She sighed in relief. “Because that’s never going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” Picking up her wine glass, she took a fortifying swallow and thought about how to explain in a way that wouldn’t sound critical of someone Rylan loved. “You said yourself that he holds his cards close to his vest.”

“Yeah, he’s very private.”

“Keeps a lid on his emotions all the time.”

“Yep.”

“When we met I admired that about him. He seemed so mature and in control. The strong, silent type.”

“That’s my brother.”

“But after a while I found myself getting impatient because he never seemed to loosen up regardless of the circumstances. Maybe he was different when you were kids, but –”

“Nope.” Rylan shook his head. “He takes after my mom. She’s the oldest in her family, too, and super responsible like Frazer.”

“I only spent a little time with her, but I can believe it.”

“She’s the organizer in our family. When she gets too heavy handed, my dad laughs and thanks her for keeping the planets in orbit. Then she backs off. But she never loses her cool, even when Dad or I have done something terminally stupid.”

“Sounds a lot like Frazer. Did he ever do anything stupid?”

“Once or twice. Not much.”

“That’s amazing.”

“I know.”

“But it confirms what I thought when I broke up with him. I can’t be with someone who hardly ever does anything stupid and never loses his cool. I need someone who’s more out there, someone who takes risks and makes mistakes.”

“I see.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath.

When he moved away from the candlelight she couldn’t gauge his expression as well. She hoped to hell she hadn’t insulted his loved ones by saying that personality type wasn’t for her. “Rylan, I’m not being critical of that approach to life. I just –”