Tender is the Nerd by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page A

never known him to exercise.
    He glanced at the first aid kit in her hand. “Are you . . . okay?”
    “I’m fine.” Poor guy probably thought she’d gone whacko busting in on him like that. “Are you? I heard glass break.”
    “Oh.” He looked embarrassed. “I threw a glass at the wall.” He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Still had some soda in it.”
    She glanced at the spot where he’d been kneeling and sure enough, a smear of liquid darkened the wall and chunks of glass littered the carpet. “Wow. I guess you are upset.”
    “Yeah.” He blew out a breath and crouched to pick up more glass and drop it in the wastebasket.
    She’d never thought of him as being particularly strong but he must have a good arm if he could throw a glass hard enough to smash it against the wall. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”
    “There isn’t. This is my job, my responsibility, the reason Tony asked me to be part of BMUS. But I can’t come up with the right feel.” The glass clinked into the metal wastebasket. “That app needs to be awesome. It needs to sing and dance. Right now it just lies there in a soggy heap of data.”
    “My data.” Professional pride kicked in.
    “Yes.” He took a deep breath. “But I have to say, nothing on the planet is more boring than a pile of green beans. Oh, wait. Parsnips are worse. They’re the color of puke.”
    “They are not!” Miranda leaped to defend one of her favorite vegetables. “Parsnips are the color of rich cream, the pearlescent color of the sky right before the sun comes up, the –”
    He glanced up at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”
    “No! I love parsnips! They’re a subtle version of turnips.”
    Rylan made a face. “Exactly. I hate turnips. They showed up at every blessed Thanksgiving dinner. They make me gag.”
    She forced herself not to respond to that heresy by telling herself maybe he’d never had turnips prepared correctly. Now that she thought about it, Frazer hadn’t been keen on veggies, either. Whenever she’d had dinner with his parents they’d always suggested going to a restaurant. Maybe the brothers’ astrophysicist mom and electrical engineer dad hadn’t been into cooking.
    Glancing around the office she noted the remnants of whatever Rylan had been eating while he worked. Although she’d noticed the bags of chips and the pizza boxes before, she’d never made the connection. But tonight she finally got what should have been blindingly obvious. He couldn’t get excited about a nutritious fruit and vegetable app because he preferred a diet that didn’t include those things.
    Intellectually he might understand that the app was a great concept, but emotionally he didn’t get it. She might not know the first thing about writing code, but she knew fresh produce inside and out. If she could get Rylan excited about it, he might be inspired to create the app they all hoped for.
    But first she needed to help him pick up the mess he’d made when he’d thrown the glass. The office had a cleaning service, but they couldn’t be expected to deal with broken glass. She dropped to her knees beside him, carefully plucked a jagged piece from the carpet and put it in the wastebasket.
    “That’s okay, Miranda.” He laid a restraining hand on her arm. “You don’t have to help me.”
    She met his gaze. “I don’t mind.” She'd always liked the soft brown color of his eyes.
    “Well, I do mind. I’m the one who created this situation so let me take care of it.” He smiled and moved his hand. “Get outta here, Travers.”
    Funny, but she missed the warmth of his hand. “I have an idea I’d like to talk to you about.”
    “It can wait. It’s Friday night, for God’s sake. You probably have a date.”
    “As it happens I don’t.” But she found it interesting that he’d made the comment. Such statements were usually part of a fishing expedition. “Do you?”
    He gave her a wry grin. “Yeah, with a hot