Driven To Distraction: Driven To Distraction / Winging It. Candy Halliday

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      “Used to?”

      “Well, I got out of the habit of eating sugar-coated, peanut-butter-flavored cereals. When you grow up with an older lady, you eat a lot of bran cereals. Granny thought fiber was God’s greatest creation, right next to prunes and chocolate.”

      Nothing could look more out of sync than Barrett holding a box adorned with a cartoon pirate. They sat down to eat.

      “What kind of kid were you?” she asked. “I’ll bet you were way ahead of all the kids your age, huh?”

      “Intellectually, maybe, but not in any other way. I was terrible at sports and games. I was the first kid to get out during dodgeball and the last kid to get picked for a team. It didn’t help that I was always the smallest kid in the class.”

      “I’ll bet PE was the only class you didn’t ace.”

      He gave her a crooked grin. “I even failed recess. And I was accused of being every teacher’s pet. I couldn’t help that I related to them better than the other kids in class. I had always related to adults better. I was unpopular even back in kindergarten.”

      “But you were only a little kid then.” She was beginning to see how tough it was to be supersmart.

      “Unfortunately, I was the first person to tell them Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny couldn’t exist. I laid it out logically until they saw the truth. I thought I was doing them a favor, dispelling a myth that had no purpose. Three mothers called my parents to complain. Nobody liked me after that.”

      “And here I thought you’d had it easy. I always wanted to be smart.”

      “And I always wanted to be like everyone else.”

      Wow. She never thought she’d feel sorry for someone as smart as Barrett. “But it got better in college, right?”

      “When I started attending college, I was barely fifteen. I was surrounded by students who didn’t seem to have time to do much else but party and think about sex. I had friends, only they were the professors and research scientists my father socialized with. I managed.” He nodded toward her bowl. “How is your cereal?”

      “Better than the Tater Tot casserole.” She wanted to ask him more about his childhood, but he was apparently finished talking about what must have been a painful time of his life. Could they have been more different? She’d had to struggle with every test, particularly math and the sciences. But she hadn’t been very popular, either, growing up in a retirement community, raised by her grandmother. She’d been way low on the cool scale.

      She shifted her gaze to the aquarium in case she gave away her sympathy. All of the snails were gliding along their branches. If she asked him about the study, maybe she could spend the whole evening with him. Maybe they could practice holding hands. Maybe…

      She stopped those selfish thoughts. He had work to do. The only reason she had offered to be his girlfriend was to be nice, right? To help him out. Not because she thought she had any chance of making Barrett fall in love with her. Certainly not because she was falling for him.

      That would never do. He’d become bored with her in no time even if he were interested to begin with, which was probably ninety degrees away from reality. And she wanted a baby. Barrett was eyeing Weasel Boy with concern. He’d be way out of his league with a baby.

      She tilted the bowl and drained the remaining milk into her mouth. “I’d better let you work,” she said, pushing her chair back and taking her bowl to the kitchen. “Come on, Weasel Boy. Let’s leave the scientist dude in peace.”

      Weasel Boy wasn’t budging. He followed Barrett into the kitchen when he put the bowls in the dishwasher, then to the foyer where Stacy was waiting. But he was firmly at Barrett’s heel.

      “You must really like dogs,” he said at the same moment she made a grab for the dog and landed face first on the floor.

      “I love dogs,” she muttered as she made another futile grab.

      Barrett was watching as she played tag with Weasel Boy all around his legs. “Then why don’t you have one?”

      “Granny was allergic to animals, so growing up, I couldn’t have any pets.” Another lunge, another miss. “We compromised when I started bringing the problem dogs home from the Humane Society. I kept them outside, of course. It worked out pretty good.”

      “But you could have a dog now.”

      “Yes—” her hands slid over the dog’s slippery body “—but the problem is I want all the dogs at the shelter. I can’t look at those faces and pick just one to adopt. I wish I had acres and acres of dogs, cats, rabbits…everything. So I’ve continued to bring them home and spread my love out to a lot of them.”

      He scooped up Weasel Boy and handed him to her. “Because you’re a nice person.”

      “Yeah, real nice,” she said breathlessly. When she met his gaze, he looked almost…disappointed. Nah, she must be misreading him. “I got it from Granny. She was a saint.” Weasel Boy started wriggling in her arms. “Well, I’d better go.” She wanted to stay. Bad. But she reminded herself about his deadline and opened the door.

      “What about your being my girlfriend?”

      She stopped mid-movement and turned. “What?”

      “What are we supposed to do? To convince the neighbors?”

      Her shoulders deflated. Boy, he really was afraid of those women. More precisely, afraid they’d interrupt his work. “Oh, that. We’ll make a few appearances. That should do it. Nothing that’ll distract you from your work.” She gave him a wave. “See you.”

      He grinned. “I see you, too.”

      NITA JOINED the women at the corner just out of sight of Stacy’s house. “She’s pretending they’re dating, I just know it.”

      “Wait, here comes Ernie.”

      He was putting a lot of effort into appearing casual as he strolled down the sidewalk. Occasionally he glanced behind him, then around. As soon as he turned the corner, he sped up.

      “Well? Are they?” they all asked.

      “I never give up my secrets to the enemy,” he said with a lift of his chin. “Not even if you torture me.”

      “You’re spying for us, you dingy!” Betty said.

      He took them in with narrowed eyes. “But how can I be sure of that? Maybe you’re all just pretending to be on my side. Maybe you’re double agents. I’m good at ferreting out the bad guys. That’s why they made me a spy in the war, you know.”

      “We know, we know already,” Nita said. “Out with it.”

      “They called me the Black Gopher. That was my code name.”

      “All right, Black Gopher, out with it!”

      He lifted his chin. “I never cracked under the interrogation. No matter СКАЧАТЬ