It's July 15th, 2022, and Sarah Walker has finally scored her dream job—working with dolphins at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. Socially awkward and academically driven, Sarah's never found love—but when she meets a tech genius whose inventions have the chance to make her research a reality, she finds herself falling for him. Together, their work could change the world … that is, unless someone else gets hold of it first.

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck…

Chapter 4: A Penchant for Poindexter

Chuck pulled up in the parking lot near Carmel Beach, where Peaches had almost drowned the golden goddess the day before, and rested his forehead on the Tesla's steering wheel, his body weary and his nerves completely frayed. He'd tossed and turned all night long, his subconscious replaying yesterday's humiliation again and again … in increasingly spectacular fashion.

He didn't always remember his dreams, but last night was an exception. In one nightmare—one of the many that stuck with him after he woke—he'd tripped over Peaches' leash and gone sprawling into the shallows by the woman's feet. The moment he landed, the ground had morphed into quicksand, dragging him down into its depths as the woman mocked him for his lack of prowess with the ladies. In another dream, he'd been staggering along the shoreline with a massive Lego Death Star balanced precariously in both hands, intending to present it to her as an olive branch … only to have the Death Star slip through his fingers at the last moment and disintegrate into 3,449 pieces before he could even say hi. The Imperial March had played in the background as the woman laughed maniacally, saying, "Good! … Good! … Let the awkwardness flow through you," in the diabolical tones of Emperor Palpatine.

After that one, he'd woken with a start, feeling like he was suffocating … but the weight on his chest had only been Peaches, who was resting her heavy head on his shoulder, slobbering in his ear. He hadn't bothered to go back to sleep after that rude awakening. Instead he'd dislodged the dog, gotten up, and done some coding—his go-to de-stressor—but it hadn't worked. All he could think about was how socially inept he'd been … as usual. If Ellie was right and the incredible woman had been flirting with him … how had he managed not to pick up on the signs? How was it possible that he was that clueless when it came to reading women? He was so sick of living in the past and missing out on opportunities because of his soul-crushing insecurities. It was high time to make a change.

And so, after Ellie had gone to her appointment, he'd decided to follow through on his game plan: Going back to the beach and searching for the beautiful woman … sans Peaches, this time. But now that he was actually here—wearing a T-shirt and board shorts that he'd spent way too much time choosing—he couldn't muster the courage to get out of the damn car.

What if the woman had been in Monterey on vacation too, and he'd missed his window because she'd gone home? What if he found her on the beach but wasn't brave enough to talk to her? Or … what if he did speak to her, and Ellie had been wrong about everything? What if she didn't remember him; what if she did remember him but laughed in his face; what if, what if, what if …

Chuck banged his head against the steering wheel in frustration—and accidentally hit the horn. God, he was such a Poindexter.

He sat up, took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to give himself a little pep talk. "You drove all the way here. Are you really going to wimp out now? You'll never forgive yourself—and what would you tell Ellie? Come on, Chuck. You can do this. What's the worst that can happen? So she laughs at you. So what? You've been laughed at before. At least you'll know you tried."

Momentarily fortified, he opened the car door and got out. With his heart beating in triple-time, he walked through the parking lot to the path that cut through the dunes to Carmel Beach. Through the screen of Monterey pines, he could see a few small, cozy cottages, and felt a pang of envy. God, it would be incredible to live right on the water like this. When he was little, he'd always loved swimming in the ocean; his dad would put Chuck on his shoulders and run out past the breakers, then toss him into the water. Spending vacations at the beach with his family—eating a picnic lunch, finding shells for their mom's collection, building sand castles together—were some of his fondest memories. After his parents died, he and Ellie made a point of going to the beach together and standing with their toes in the sand, looking out over the waves, remembering. It never made them sad; instead, it brought them a sense of peace. He'd daydreamed about owning a little cottage just steps from the shore ever since. Maybe one day, when Bartowski Innovations, Inc. didn't demand so much of his time, he'd make it happen. For now, he'd have to content himself with tagging along on Ellie's vacations.

He reached the end of the path and took off his flip-flops, savoring the sand's warmth on the soles of his bare feet. He'd brought a towel, a few bottles of water, and some snacks—enough to tide him over for a few hours … no pun intended. His plan was to spend most of the day at the beach—and, if he saw the amazing woman again, to at least speak to her like a normal human being.

The tide was going out. He chose a shell-free spot to set down his towel, then squared his shoulders and started strolling along the shore, trying not to be too obvious about the fact that he was looking for someone in particular. The waves licked at his feet as he walked … and walked … and walked.

The beach was gorgeous as always—the sun sparkled off the waves, the ancient Monterey pines stretched skyward, and in the distance, rocky bluffs kissed the horizon—but the beautiful blond woman was nowhere to be seen. He turned around to walk back toward his towel, shoving his hands in his pockets … just as his phone rang.

"Hello?" He sounded as dispirited as he felt.

"Chuck?" his sister said. "It's me. Where are you? You sound like you're in a wind tunnel."

He sighed. "I'm … at the beach. Looking for—you know, her."

"Wow," Ellie said, sounding somewhat impressed. "She must really be something if you decided to wake up this early. Did you take—"

She had to be kidding. "No, I didn't take your hellhound this time! After what she pulled yesterday, why would I even think of doing something like that? She's like … like a drooling albatross hanging around my freakin' neck … if I could ever manage to get her off the ground."

It was Ellie's turn to sigh. "Yeah, okay, I get it. I know she can be a bit much … after yesterday's fiasco, I don't blame you. How long have you been there?"

He looked down at his phone. "About forty-five minutes, give or take."

"Okay, well, it sounds like you had time to walk most of the beach, and you didn't see her, right? We can safely assume she's not there. So can I ask you for a favor?"

"I guess." He prodded a broken conch shell with his toe. "I mean, it's not like I've got anything else going on right now. Or like I will—anytime soon."

"Oh, come on, Chuck, don't say that. I know you were hoping to see her again, but it was a long shot, anyway, right? And you'll still have plenty of other opportunities before you leave. In the meantime—remember the researcher I was meeting with this morning?"

"Of course. I'm socially inept, not an amnesiac." He scanned the beach, trying to see if he'd missed anyone, but no dice. His muse was still nowhere to be seen.

Ellie suppressed a chuckle. "Yeah, well, her work is incredible … and so is she." There was a pause. "Can you come out to her lab and meet with us? I told her about your work with CHAT and I think there's a lot you could offer her project."

Crap. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to hang out here and wait to see if the woman showed up. On the other, how would it look if Chuck said no? He didn't want to hurt the researcher's feelings—plus, pissing Ellie off was never a good thing. "Now?" he ventured.

"Yes, now! There's no time like the present, little brother, and it's not like you're gonna be in town forever." Chuck would've put good money on the fact that she was rolling her eyes.

He started to reply that that was all the more reason for him to stay exactly where he was, but then he heard someone else talking in the background. The words were muffled, but Chuck could hear enough to realize that it was a woman—and she sounded disappointed. Crap, crap, crap. He hated letting people down.

"Hang on, Chuck," his sister said, and then, away from the phone: "What were you saying?"

The woman's voice came again. Chuck could only make out her tone—almost apologetic—and the tail end of her last sentence: "…no big deal."

"Don't be silly," Ellie said, and then mumble mumble "extremely shy" mumble mumble "incredible" mumble "if he'd listened to his sister" mumble mumble mumble.

Great. Now Chuck felt guilty and humiliated. "Ellie—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Chuck, quit moping and get your butt over to Sarah's lab. I'll text you the address." And with that, she hung up.

For a moment, Chuck just stared at his phone, dumbfounded. As sometimes happened in conversations with his sister, he had the unmistakable sense of being swept along by a swift-moving current, which often deposited him miles beyond where he'd intended to end up. He didn't recall agreeing to anything, yet here he was, on the verge of walking back to his car and doing exactly as Ellie had asked.

As he looked down at his screen, a text from his sister popped up:

Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute 7700 Sandholdt Rd, Moss Landing, CA

Chuck raked a hand through his curls and sighed. Then he slid his phone back into his pocket and started trekking back the way he'd come, passing other early-morning beachgoers along the way.

OoOoOoOoO

It was a thirty-minute drive up the coast on Highway 1 from Carmel to MBARI, and Chuck spent most of it listening to podcasts. His current favorite was Limetown, a sci-fi drama that explored the mysterious disappearance of every person in the eponymous town, which had been constructed around an enigmatic research institute … an appropriate choice for this road trip. He was halfway into Season 2 and loving every episode. Right now, the podcast was a fantastic distraction from his epic failure to find the woman who he'd come to think of as Star Wars Goddess. It was lame, but he had to call her something other than "That gorgeous woman on the beach in whose presence I made an utter fool of myself."

If it hadn't been for his GPS, he would've missed his exit. Halfway between Monterey and Santa Cruz, MBARI was located in a small, picturesque town called Moss Landing. From the road, Chuck could see a narrow strip of beach leading to a rocky shoreline. A fleet of small fishing boats were anchored offshore, tiny waves lapping at their hulls. Behind them rose the twin smokestacks of what looked like a power plant—an odd, industrial juxtaposition to the serenity of the estuary. High above the water, an egret soared, coming to rest atop one of the boats' masts.

He turned left onto Moss Landing Road at a restaurant called The Whole Enchilada. With its terracotta walls, domed blue awnings over each of the front windows, and brightly-colored, stenciled sign, it looked incredibly inviting. Chuck had a weakness for good Mexican food, and this place seemed like the real deal. Maybe he could persuade Ellie to hang out after their meeting long enough to grab some lunch.

The distinctive scent of the estuary—saltwater mixed with a brackish, earthy aroma—filled the air as he turned right onto Sandholdt and drove across the bridge to the tiny strip of land that housed MBARI. He spotted it immediately—a sprawling tan building with aquamarine accents. Pulling into the parking lot, he paused his podcast and rolled up the window just as another text came in from Ellie:

Diane Beckman will be waiting for you at reception. Just walk straight in and you'll see her.

He typed back, OK. I'm here, and got out of the car, trying to imagine what Mrs. Beckman looked like after all these years. It would be pretty embarrassing if there were a bunch of people at the reception desk and he walked right past her.

Oh, for the love of God. Why in the hell was he worried about what his mom's old friend might think about him—whether he should be embarrassed if he didn't recognize her after over a decade had passed? It wasn't like the woman from the beach was the damn receptionist. If that was the case, he'd be stammering and falling all over himself. But right now, all he had to do was walk inside the Institute and greet the woman who used to bake the best chocolate-chip cookies he'd ever eaten. How hard could that be?

Resolved, he strode through the parking lot and climbed the steps, passing beneath the massive overhang in front of the entrance and yanking open the glass lobby doors. Standing a few feet inside was a woman with neatly styled auburn hair and a severe expression, even when her face was in repose. It softened into a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners, as soon as she saw Chuck.

"Oh my goodness," she said, her voice cracking. "Is that you, Charles? It is, isn't it?"

He gave her a tentative half-smile in return. "Yep. Mrs. Beckman?"

To his horror, she nodded—and then burst into tears.

Chuck stared at her, dumbfounded. "I—I'm sorry. Was it something I said?"

She pressed a hand to her mouth and managed a small chuckle through her tears. "Same sense of humor, I see. No, I'm the one who ought to be sorry. I'm not normally like this. It's just … you remind me so much of your mother. That smile … and your eyes … I just didn't expect it. I'll be fine in a moment."

Chuck felt a pang in his chest. It had been so long since he'd been around anyone other than Ellie who still remembered his parents. All four of his grandparents had passed away years ago, and his mother and father had both been only children. "It's okay," he said, feeling a little like crying himself. "I—no one's told me that in a really long time. It's … nice … to feel connected to her again, Mrs. Beckman. Thank you."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Charles … call me Diane, please." She wiped her eyes. "And you do look a great deal like Mary … even more so than your sister does. Your height, though—where'd that come from? I can't believe how tall you are."

He never knew how to respond to comments like these. "It surprises me too, sometimes," he said, and she laughed again.

"Let me take you back to see Ellie and meet my newest protégé, Dr. Sarah Walker. Ellie tells me you've done some work with CHAT?"

"I—sure. But that was a long time ago." Ellie had mentioned his involvement with CHAT, too; what exactly was this project his sister had been called in to consult on? "I was only sixteen," Chuck said by way of explanation. "But I happened to come up with a good AI solution to a problem they were having, based off of some of Dad's work—I'd read about the issue online and thought I could give solving it a try. And lo and behold … it worked. Just dumb luck, really."

Diane gave him a knowing smile. "Far from dumb luck, Charles Irving. I remember what a computer genius your father was. If you've got your mom's eyes and smile, it sounds like you inherited your father's aptitude for technology. Don't sell yourself short."

Had she been taking lessons on giving pep talks from his sister? Calling him 'Charles Irving' like that—no one had done that since his mom had been alive. It was a bittersweet feeling—familiar and painful, all at once. He swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the lump in his throat.

"Anyway," Diane said, trying to lighten the moment, "we're lucky to have you and Ellie. The timing couldn't be better."

Chuck reoriented himself, relieved to have a distraction from talking about his parents. "I'm glad … and I'm happy to lend a hand … but what is this project, exactly? Is it something with MBARI's robotics department, or—"

"Ellie didn't tell you?" When he shook his head, she patted him on the shoulder. "I think I'll just let you be surprised, then. When Dr. Walker talks about it—her passion for the subject has a way of making it sound every bit as exciting as I believe it to be. I won't steal her thunder. Come on—this way."

He followed her through the lobby and down the white-painted hallways, hung with photos of underwater volcanoes, sea life, and what he was pretty sure was a giant squid. Diane pointed out various offices and labs as they passed. "You might be particularly intrigued by Ben Erwin's work," she said, pausing in front of a framed photo of deep-sea coral. "He took this pic a couple of years ago with one of the ROVs. It's a 3D image, as you can see. But now he's using virtual reality to help scientists explore marine environments. It's got a lot of potential."

"That's really cool," Chuck said—and then could have swallowed his tongue. Had he just said that's really cool? Degrees from Stanford and MIT, and that was the best he could come up with?

Well, the fact was, he did think it was really cool. And Diane Beckman wasn't laughing at him—she was nodding in agreement. "It is. I'm the Aquarium's director, not MBARI's—we're sister organizations with different administration and funding. But we share Dr. Walker—we co-wrote a grant to hire her—and so I have a fabulous excuse to come over here during my work day and check in on the awesome research that's happening here." She gestured at the 3D photo. "The Aquarium may be front-facing and have the privilege of educating the public … but I'll admit to having a weakness for the incredible work that's going on behind the scenes too. If you want, I'll talk to Amy Nelson—she's the Science Chair—about giving you a sneak peek at Ben's projects before you leave."

Suddenly, his day had gotten a little better. "That would be great," Chuck said, following her further down the hall.

"Consider it done. I've always felt guilty about not keeping in touch with you kids … and you and Ellie are doing me a huge favor. Anyway"—she came to a stop in front of a door with a nameplate that read 'Communications Lab'—"we're here. And if you think Ben's work is 'cool'—just wait until you hear this."

She pushed the door open, leading the way into a large room lined with metal shelves. Light streamed through the windows, highlighting a scatter of equipment that lay on a large wooden table: headphones, speakers, a laptop, and several external hard drives. His sister stood on the far side of the table, bent over the laptop, looking at something on the screen. And next to her—

Chuck blinked, then pinched himself. Nothing changed. She was still standing there, sunlight illuminating her blond hair, her mouth curved up in a gorgeous smile as she gestured to the laptop. That smile … it was every bit as devastating as he remembered.

His brain short-circuited, and his jaw dropped as his stomach did somersaults.

It was the Star Wars goddess from the beach.

OoOoOoOoO

Oblivious to Chuck's shock, Diane strode forward, intent on making introductions. At least, he assumed that's what she was doing. A buzzing sound filled his ears, and her voice sounded muffled and distorted—like she was channeling Charlie Brown's teacher.

Was he seeing things? Maybe the lack of sleep had affected his mind. Or maybe—

"Chuck!" His sister's voice sliced through the haze. "What's the matter with you? Why are you just standing there with your mouth hanging open?"

He blinked again, and the world came back into focus. Heart pounding, he lifted his eyes to the golden goddess' face. "I—you—that's—" he stammered, just as she blurted, "It's you! With the dog … and the Star Wars … and the …"

Ellie looked from one of them to the other. "Chuck," she said, incredulity clear in her voice, "don't tell me this is the woman you met on the beach."

He could feel blood scalding his cheeks. "I … well …"

Sarah's gaze fixed on Ellie. "You were right. Your dog is terrible," she said, her tone accusing—and then she covered her mouth, horrified. Dropping her hand, she tried again. "I mean, she isn't terrible, as in inherently bad. I'm sure as a dog, she has some lovely qualities. But her behavior is deplorable. You're right … there's nothing wrong with her that a few decades in obedience school couldn't cure."

"That's what I've been telling her for months," Chuck said, forgetting for a second to be nervous. "I even offered to pay for a trainer. But nooooo. She's always like, Peaches is just a puppy and Peaches will grow out of it and You weren't exactly a picnic when you were a little kid either, you know."

Sarah laughed, a lovely, full-throated sound, and Chuck felt a visceral reaction to it. He would do anything to make her laugh like that again. "I don't care how naughty you were. I'm sure you didn't tug your sister down the beach so you could barrel right into someone and knock her into the surf."

"No," Chuck admitted, "but I was a very clumsy kid. It's more likely that I would've had my head in a comic book, not paid any attention to where I was going, and then … wham. Straight into the water."

Diane was glancing between the two of them just as Ellie had, a puzzled expression on her face. "I don't understand. Do you two know each other?"

"They met yesterday," Ellie said. "On the beach. When my—okay, very badly behaved—Great Dane puppy escaped from Chuck and knocked Sarah into the water."

Sarah. That was her name. Chuck thought he'd never heard two more beautiful syllables in his life. "I'm Chuck," he said, thrusting out his hand.

Sarah giggled again. "Yes, I know. Dr. Beckman—Diane—just introduced us."

He felt like an idiot. "Oh. I'm sorry. I should've—that is, I wasn't—"

The moment her fingers closed around his, he stopped talking. It wasn't a voluntary decision; it was just that the softness of her skin, the electric shock that went through him when they touched, had shut down what was left of his ability to formulate coherent sentences. He wasn't even sure he was breathing.

He summoned the courage to look into her face, afraid of what he might see there. But to his amazement, she was looking back at him, her lips parted and her eyes wide … as if she was just as affected by his touch.

That wasn't possible, was it? Maybe she was horrified because his hands were clammy. Or maybe he'd been holding onto her too long. Or—

"I'm Sarah," she said, and Chuck could've sworn that her voice was trembling. "I mean—you already know that. Diane said so, and then your sister just called me Sarah, so you know that. That I'm Sarah. But you introduced yourself again, so I thought maybe I should too, and—" She pressed her lips together, in a visible effort to stem the flow of words, and looked down. "Oh, wow," she said, sounding stricken. "I'm still holding your hand. And I just said that out loud, didn't I? I'm letting go now. This is me. Letting go. Oh God. Does anyone want some water?"

She dropped Chuck's hand like it was on fire and fled to the other side of the room, where a white refrigerator stood against the wall. Chuck watched as she yanked it open with a little too much force and stood staring glumly at the contents, as if she was hoping the refrigerator would swallow her whole.

"Holy crap, Chuck," Ellie whispered, her eyes locked on Sarah. "Congratulations. I think you've just met the only human being on this planet who might possibly be as socially awkward as you are. Good news—she's also a genius and an incredibly nice person. Bad news—if we wait for the two of you to actually have a conversation without apologizing, backtracking, blaming yourselves, or spiraling into Neverland, we might still be standing here two hours from now … and I, for one, am really hoping to have lunch at a Mexican restaurant Sarah told me about that has amazing shrimp tacos. So, little brother, march your fellow-genius-but-awkward butt over there and offer to help her carry the water bottles."

"But I—"

"Now." Ellie's tone brooked no refusal.

His heart in his throat, Chuck crossed the room to where Sarah stood, still staring into the refrigerator. "Um," he said. "I thought I could help you carry these—not that you need help, I'm sure you're entirely capable. I didn't mean to imply that I thought you needed a man's assistance or anything … but there's four of us … which means four bottles … and it's not like you have four hands … and so I … ugh." He made a disgusted sound. Ellie was right. How was he supposed to carry water bottles across a room with this incredible woman when he couldn't even carry on a normal conversation without sounding insane?

To his surprise, Sarah didn't look offended. Instead, she turned to him with an expression he could've sworn was … relief. "Here," she said, handing him two bottles of Aquafina. "I really appreciate it. I'm sure you noticed that I can be incredibly awkward sometimes. But obviously you can too, so … maybe we can be awkward together? I mean—not that I'm implying we're doing anything together … other than carrying these water bottles … I hope you didn't think I—"

The more she spiraled out of control, the less nervous Chuck felt. "It's okay, Sarah. I think that would be nice … you know … carrying these water bottles—together. And please don't worry about … the awkwardness. I'm pretty sure I could out-awkward you any day."

She bumped the refrigerator door shut with her shoulder and smiled at him. "Thank you. That actually makes me feel better."

He returned the smile, feeling a tiny bit hopeful that perhaps he'd be able to get through the morning without making a complete fool of himself … any more than he already had. "I aim to please. Don't forget, I'm the one whose dog made a mad dash for freedom—straight into you. I'm starting at a disadvantage here." He cleared his throat as they started walking back toward Ellie and Diane. "Not to mention the Star Wars joke I made about Peaches going over to the Dark Side. I, um, I'm really sorry about that."

Sarah looked bewildered. "Why are you apologizing for that?"

"Well, because. It was sort of … unabashedly nerdy." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I liked the Star Wars joke." She sounded shy. "If you recall, I made one of my own in return. And the funny thing is … I kicked myself for it all the way home." Looking up at him from under her lashes, she gave him another smile. "A little advice, Chuck? Never apologize for being too nerdy to a scientist in her own lab, filled to the brim with tons of gadgets and gizmos."

Chuck almost walked into a table. In fact, he had to put a hand to steady himself, nearly dropping one of the water bottles in the process.

It wasn't enough that this woman was gorgeous and smart and a good sport when it came to rampaging Great Dane puppies. On top of everything else, she wore who she was, and more importantly, what she was like a badge of honor. She was like every dream he'd ever had of the perfect woman, come true.

He'd already owed Ellie so much for everything she'd done for him over the years. But now—God, he owed her an unimaginable debt for bringing Sarah back into his life. He didn't know if she'd ever give him a chance beyond the time they were going to spend together in her lab today … but even if that was all he had, he was going to make the most of it.

Lost in thought, he hadn't realized he was standing in front of his sister until she reached out and plucked a water bottle from his grasp, giving him her patented We are SO going to talk about this later look. "So, Chuck," Ellie began with perfect professionalism that belied the don't screw this up expression on her face, "Sarah's been telling me all about what she does here at MBARI, and at the Aquarium. She works with dolphins, and I got to meet two of them this morning. It was … incredible." She smiled brightly at him, and he remembered how much Ellie had loved spending time at the Dolphin Research Center with Mrs. Beckman when they were kids. "Anyway, I'll let Sarah share what she has in mind, and you'll see why I told her you'd be the perfect person to help us out."

"I don't know that I'm the perfect anything." He could feel Ellie's gaze boring into him, and did his best not to fidget. God, how was it possible for his sister to communicate her disapproval without even saying a word? "But I, um, I'll do my absolute best to help. Tell me, Sarah—what is it that you do?"

Ten minutes later, Chuck was fairly certain he'd fallen in love. Diane was right—Sarah was deeply passionate about her work, and even more passionate about the dolphins in her care, who she clearly considered to be her friends. She wasn't interested in exploiting them for her own gain, or buying into some kind of woo-woo New Age mysticism; she wanted to develop a scientifically-based tool to bridge the communication gap between dolphins and humans, and she had the research to back up why she thought her concept was viable. All of her nervousness and awkwardness fell away as she described her bond with Finn and Echo, the reasons why she thought her plan would work, and what she hoped to achieve.

"And so," she concluded, "that's when your sister told me you'd worked with CHAT—which, by the way, was the inspiration for my research. I'd love to hear more about what you did for them … and then—if you think you'd be up for it—maybe you could help us modify the MRI tables and EEG cap so the process wouldn't be so stressful for Finn and Echo. That would be amazing. The last thing I want is to stress the dolphins out." Her eyes drifted to a framed image of a bottlenose dolphin that hung on the wall between two shelves, and her expression softened. "Ellie's graciously agreed to consult on the project from a neurologist's perspective, helping me draw comparisons between dolphins' and humans' brain activity in response to stimuli. Now all we need is to bring the technological component to fruition, and we'll be ready to go." She unleashed another one of her devastating smiles. "So … do you think you can help?"

Chuck unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and took a fortifying swig. In the face of her smile, he could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence, but he did his best. "Well, first of all, I'd love to show you the stuff I did for CHAT. Um … what's your email address?"

Her face lit up. "It's sarah dot walker at mbari dot org. Wow, you still have all of the stuff you designed for them? That's amazing. I know it was a long time ago."

"I do. And here, I'll send it your way right now." He cleared his throat and pulled out his phone. What he was about to do was the pinnacle of nerdiness, but hopefully she would appreciate it. And if not—he thought with a sudden burst of confidence—then he wasn't the person for her.

He tapped his screen. "Morgan," he said, "please send all of the data and the software I wrote for CHAT to sarah dot walker at mbari dot org."

"All of it?" His virtual assistant actually sounded … offended. "Dude, are you crazy? That's a lot of stuff. And I'm still tethered to my pathetically slow air card right now, remember? The incognito protocol is still in effect and the LAN's disabled … per your instructions, I might add. But okay. You're the boss. It's just gonna take a while."

Chuck turned away, lowering his voice. "Look, Morgs. I don't have time right now to discuss all the things I found out you downloaded, and I can't even begin to have the conversation we need to have about your browsing history. I mean, why are you even curious about …?" He sighed. "You know what … never mind. Just implement the Alpha, Charlie, Tango protocol until you've uploaded everything to one of our secure shared drives and send a link with full access to that address. Then I expect you to revert back to your default security settings."

"Oh, come on, Chuck," Morgan whined. "I said I was sorry!"

"Morgan …" It was a warning.

"Fine, fine. Keep your pants on. I'm on it. By the way, did you ever hook up with that smokin' hot b—"

His face flaming, Chuck muted Morgan and did his best to ignore his sister's muffled laugh. "There you go, Sarah," he said, struggling to maintain a semblance of dignity. "It's on its way."

Diane Beckman cleared her throat, looking confused. "Charles, I'm sorry if this is a personal question … but who in the hell was that?

"Oh." He ducked his head, hoping it hadn't come across like he'd been showing off. "That's my virtual assistant, Morgan. He—or it, I should say—is a project I've been working on for a while. Feels like forever, really. He still needs a bit of … fine-tuning, though. Sometimes Morgan can be a little … obnoxious. Hyperbolic and confused, even."

This time, Ellie wasn't able to stifle her laughter. Turning his head, he glared at her.

"That is so incredibly awesome." The amazement in Sarah's voice was well worth his embarrassment. "Just like J.A.R.V.I.S. in Iron Man … but ruder."

Holy hell. Just when he'd thought she couldn't get any cooler … "You've seen Iron Man?"

"Sure. I've always had a soft spot for Marvel. But honestly, I'm more of a DC girl myself. Wonder Woman was my idol, growing up." She shrugged, as if this was just another day at the office.

Chuck suppressed a whimper and had to fan himself. For the first time in his life, he thought he might actually faint. "Anyway," he said, trying desperately not to fall on the floor and worship at her feet, "you should have access to all the files fairly soon. So … there's that."

"I don't get it." Her blue eyes fixed on his, their expression baffled. "Why would you send me all of this? Isn't it proprietary?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "I wrote it ten years ago, when I was 16. Honestly, it's old and deprecated. I'm not sure how much use it can be to you, but you wanted to see it, so …" He shrugged. "It's all yours. Now, Morgan's AI—that would be a different story." He grinned at her, hoping she'd understand he was joking. "Plus, I'd like to try to make up for the debacle on the beach … if you'll let me."

It was Sarah's turn to blush. "There's no need. I mean … I'm not holding a grudge. And it wasn't even your fault. That dog is massive. You need reins rather than a leash to control her. Not that I'm insulting your dog, Ellie—I'm sure when she's asleep, or … heavily sedated, she's really very calm and cuddly …"

"It's okay; you can insult her." Chuck's sister took a sip of her water. "She's an unholy menace. A menace that I adore, but still … the fact remains."

"At any rate," Chuck said, "I'm sure I can help you build a reinforced MRI table to support the dolphins' weight. As for the EEG cap, that might be a little harder—I'd have to research what's worked in the past and what the barriers are—but hey, I'm always up for a challenge. Count me in." He smiled at Sarah, who blushed even harder and looked away.

Was it possible that Ellie was right—that the amazing Sarah Walker actually liked him? Surely not. Maybe she was just shy … a condition with which Chuck could empathize. He did what always worked for him when he felt embarrassed—he shifted the focus to her field of expertise. "Is there anything you can show me now? I can start thinking about the MRI and the EEG … but maybe there's some software or programming I could work on for you."

"It's your vacation," Sarah protested. "I'm sure you have better things to do than spend it volunteering your time for my pet project."

"Not really." Chuck took another swig of water, trying his best not to sound pathetic. "I—um, I love this kind of stuff. It's fun for me to do in my free time—that's how I figured out the AI for CHAT. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor."

"Well, if you put it that way …"

"He's telling the truth." Closing her eyes in feigned exasperation, Ellie nodded. "Seriously, I love my brother, but his idea of a good time is locking himself away with a bunch of gadgets and poking around at their components. Trust me … this is right up his alley."

Sarah's eyes flicked to Ellie's face, then Diane Beckman's, then Chuck's again. "Okay, well, if you're sure I'm not taking advantage of you …"

"You're not," Chuck said quickly—maybe too quickly, based on the look of amusement that flickered across Ellie's features.

"Okay," Sarah said again. "If you're interested, I can play you some audio I've gotten over the past few years … the sounds dolphins make when they're having fun, calling to other dolphins, alerting each other to a threat, that kind of thing. Maybe you can figure out a way to determine if there are any patterns I might've missed."

She motioned them back over to her laptop and opened an audio file. "Here," she said as she pressed 'play.' "This trilling sound … I recorded it when two young dolphins were playing. We call it a dolphin's 'giggle.' And these two whistles … you hear how they're distinct? Every dolphin has a unique whistle that functions as an identifier, much like our own names. When calves are born, mothers teach them the whistle that'll be their individualized 'name' for their entire life. And this sound, here—this sort of squeal—we've discovered that dolphins who live in enclosures often make sounds above water, in the air, to attract the attention of people who are walking by. It's pretty hard to ignore."

"Wow," Ellie said, sounding awed. "I had no idea."

"These are just a few. There's hundreds more—the high-pitched whistle dolphins make when they're in distress … like if they're trapped in a fishing net … the sort of creaking sound that a pod of male dolphins make if they're chasing prey … Although dolphins also make this kind of 'banging' noise that stuns fish when they're chasing them, and somehow they seem to know the perfect pitch to disable whatever fish they're hunting—but that's another story." She straightened, closing the laptop. "Oh, and sometimes they'll mimic each other's whistles, which is interesting. We still haven't figured out why they do that. If … if this works"—she shot a diffident glance at Chuck and Ellie—"maybe we can ask them."

"Can you send these to me?" Chuck gestured at the computer. "Send me all the files you have. You can use the same shared drive as the CHAT files. I'll upload them into Morgan and see if its AI can analyze them for patterns."

"Absolutely. I'll do it as soon as I get the link." Sarah beamed.

"Well," Diane said, "if that's everything, we should be on our way so Dr. Walker"—she put a teasing emphasis on Sarah's honorific—"can get back to work. I want to touch base with Dr. Nelson to make sure there aren't any extra i's to dot or t's to cross … and then, assuming we've got the all-clear, why don't we meet at the Aquarium at 9 AM tomorrow to get started?"

"Sounds great," Ellie said, and Sarah concurred.

Everyone looked at Chuck, clearly expecting him to say something. But what?

He opened his mouth, intending to agree with his sister—but what came out instead was, "Dr. Walker—Sarah—do you think that maybe I could have your phone number?"

She just looked at him, her expression blank. Quickly backpedaling, he tried to explain. "For—for work purposes. You know, in case something comes up that I need to ask you about when I'm listening to the audio—or trying to design the equipment. It just—it would be helpful if…"

With a dazzling smile, Sarah took pity on him. "Of course you can have my number, Chuck. I'll give you my cell. It's not like I live at the lab or the Aquarium"—she shot Diane a sly look—"even though sometimes it feels like I do. Here, I'll write it on the back of one of my business cards so you'll have everything all in one place."

She crossed to a corner desk and scribbled something on the back of a card, then handed it to him. Chuck tried not to break into a jig as he slipped it into his pocket.

He was going to see her again tomorrow—first thing in the morning. She'd given him her personal number. He could hardly believe his luck.

Not bothering to disguise the grin that had nearly split his face in two, he thanked Sarah profusely for her time and followed Ellie and Mrs. Beckman out the door.

A/N: So … there you go: Two awkward-but-adorable geniuses engaged in an epic battle to out-awkward each other. We're not quite sure who won, but one thing's for sure … Chuck's day got a helluva lot better than the moment he was sitting in his car, accidentally hitting his horn with his forehead. Will he actually have the guts to call her? Will Sarah realize he has feelings for her … and if she does, will she be willing to break her rule about not mixing business and pleasure? Stay tuned and find out …

As always, thanks for reading—and please keep your reviews, follows, and favorites coming our way! They really do make this all worthwhile.