Page 37 of Tennessee Trouble

“Hey.”

Hey? Hey?! That’s what he has to say for himself? Oh…this fucker.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Okay, maybe I found a second thing to say.

All my anger from earlier returns, now with some extra mixed in. This is my space. A sacred space. Not one that I invite a lot of people into. Especially not people who mock my life’s work.

“Door was open.” Brandt shrugs.

“So you just walked in? That’s trespassing. Even I know that.”

“I had a call.”

Oh boy. He’s just full of excuses, isn’t he.

“Doesn’t explain how you got in here. Into the distill-lab.”

I don’t bother hiding my annoyance. I want him to know I’m pissed. That he isn’t welcome here. He should leave. Both my lab and Trouble.

“Distill-lab, that’s cute,” he says around a chuckle. “Love the Bill Nye the Science Guy poster. Almost as much as I like the glasses.”

Flicking my eyes up and down his body, I tug at my black frames, feeling a bit self-conscious as I try to get a read on him. I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not. Wouldn’t be the first time that someone felt the need to ridicule me for still having my childhood hero on the wall. Or my bad eyesight.

“Not quite sure what it says about me to admit this, but I was actually really bummed when his spin-off, Eyes of Nye, never really took off.”

“You know Eyes of Nye?” I continue to drag my eyes along his body, skeptical of his response.

Brandt nods. “If Bill Nye has done it, I’ve watched it. I’ve always loved to figure out how things work, but he’s the reason I really fell in love with science.”

Holy shit…

My insides squeeze, ready to explode with excitement. Another science nerd. Someone who shares my icon.

No, stop. I can’t trust this. He could be playing me again, same way he did this past weekend.

“Don’t try to butter me up,” I snap. Butter me up? Way to sound like I’m a hundred years old. “What the hell are you doing in my lab?”

Brandt steps around the lab table, closing the gap between us. My pulse leaps and it takes everything in me to keep breathing. I want to kiss him so fucking bad.

“I told you, I had a phone call.”

“Suuuuuure you did.”

Taking another step toward me, Brandt sighs, his shoulders dropping. “I came up here, trying to find you. Wanting to talk to you. But then Dustin called, so I slipped inside an open door.”

“And then just kept walking?”

I’ll give him the open door. I’ve come by more than once to find the side door propped open while one of the guys ducked out for a smoke break. But that doesn’t explain finding his way into my lab. It’s buried deep in here.

“Pretty much.” He gives me a sheepish grin, like he’s almost sorry. “I was talking to Dustin and⁠—”

“Dustin?” I cut him off. “As in Dustin Wild?”

Brandt nods, like it was obvious. Like the country mega star is nothing more than the average dude down the block. Then again, for Brandt, maybe he is. They are from the same town back in Georgia. They probably grew up playing T-ball together or something like that.

“I called him earlier to talk about your sister’s request.”