Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3)

by Sabrina Stark

  It was surprising and a huge positive in my book.

  My last boyfriend had driven a classic Camaro, and he'd hated to be passed, as if it were a personal insult to his manhood.

  But then again, that guy had been no Chase Blastoviak, whose manhood nobody would question in a million years. If the rumors were true, Chase had more notches in his bedposts than I had cookies in the cupboard.

  And considering that I'd gone shopping just yesterday, this was truly saying something.

  As these thoughts filtered through my brain, it belatedly hit me that I hadn't answered his last question. Not only that, I'd lost track of our conversation entirely.

  With an embarrassed laugh, I said, "Sorry, you were saying…?"

  "Your mom – what does she want to hear?"

  Gosh, where to begin?

  I hadn't talked to my mom since that last phone call in the lobby of Blast Tools, where she'd informed me that Ginger had gotten all blabby about the sponsorship – or lack thereof.

  So of course, I knew exactly what my mom wanted to hear. She wanted to hear that Ginger was mistaken, that the sponsorship was fine, and that the festival would continue as planned.

  Unfortunately, she also wanted to hear the truth, which put me in a bit of a pickle – unless, of course, the guy sitting in the driver's seat gave me the news I so desperately craved.

  But I'd be a clod to ask.

  Even worse, it would surely hurt my chances. So all I said was, "Trust me, you don't want to know."

  This was true. And yet, I so wanted to make another pitch, to explain how much the festival meant, not only to my mom, but to nearly everyone I knew.

  And while I was at it, I was also dying to remind Chase that the sponsorship would make hardly a dent in his promotional budget.

  I knew because I'd done my homework. Last year, Blast Tools had spent a fortune on advertising, including several million dollars for a single Superbowl ad. My proposal was cheap in comparison.

  I gave Chase another sideways glance. There he was, a captive audience within pestering distance. I so wanted to pester him.

  And I might've done it, too, if it weren't for Tanya Malone.

  Chapter 23

  Chase

  Mina still wasn't saying.

  Normally, I'd let it go. Hell, normally I wouldn't care.

  Come to think of it, I wouldn't have asked the question in the first place.

  But I had asked. And now, after we'd been dancing around it for a few miles, the question was looming larger than it should've.

  I let the question roll around in my brain. What would Mina's mom want to hear?

  And why the fuck did I care?

  I didn't.

  I was just curious, that's all.

  And that's where it ended. The last thing I wanted to be was that guy – the guy who pestered and begged until the girl gave in. Me – I didn't pester. And I sure as hell didn't beg.

  For anything.

  I kept silent for maybe another mile until a glance at the GPS told me I was running out of time. Ten more minutes.

  It should've been five.

  But I'd been driving like a granny with a walker in the back – too slow, too safe, and too conscious of the minutes passing.

  What was my deal, anyway?

  I was still wondering when I felt a slow smile spread across my face. I didn't beg. But I did bargain.

  I was damned good at it, too.

  Plus, I had something she wanted. Bad.

  Looking to ease into the negotiation, I said, "So, you're good at keeping secrets, huh?"

  "It's no secret," she laughed. "I just don’t want to get into it, that's all."

  When I gave her a curious look, she added, "Hey, don't blame me."

  I smiled. "So who should I blame?"

  Under her breath, she muttered a name.

  I didn't quite catch it. Maybe I wasn't meant to. But hey, she'd tossed it out there, so I tossed it back, guessing as best I could. "Tammy who?"

  She hesitated. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

  I was more than sure. "Go ahead. Hit me."

  Mina gave me a long sideways glance before saying, "Alright. But remember, you asked."

  "Deal."

  "Okay, her name wasn't Tammy. It was Tanya. She was this girl I had in my least-favorite marketing class. She sat next to me, and we talked every once in a while, you know? Anyway, this one day, I see her in the parking lot – at the university I mean – and she's standing outside this little white car, looking ready to cry."

  As Mina talked, I mentally filed away the unrelated data for later. So, she'd taken some marketing classes in college, huh?

  Had she graduated?

  Or was she still going?

  By now, I was pissed at myself for not looking further into her background. But until today's meeting, I'd figured she was full of hot air and not worth the effort.

  But then, she'd surprised me by delivering more than she'd promised. In my book, that meant something. And if I weren't occupied with the task of driving her home, I would've already checked her background for red flags.

  Or rather, I would've had someone else do the checking, because I paid people for a reason.

  In the car, Mina continued. "So I pull up and roll down my car window. And when I ask her what's wrong, she tells me that she's locked out of her car, and that her spare keys are forty-five minutes away at her dad's place."

  It was easy to see where this was going. "So you offered to take her there."

  "Yeah, how'd you know?"

  "Not hard to guess."

  "Why?" she laughed. "Because I seem like a sucker?"

  Sucker. It was another clean word that sounded too nice on her lips – not dirty, but thought-provoking. I shifted in my seat. Too thought-provoking.

  Absently, I replied, "No. Because you seem like a decent person." Shit. My own statement caught me off-guard, even more so because I meant it.

  What the hell was that about? Could someone be decent and crazy? It was hard to say.

  From the look on Mina's face, she was just as surprised as I was. "Oh. Well, thanks."

  "You're welcome. Now finish the story."

  "Alright, so we're in the car like two minutes when she launches into a sales pitch, telling me about these dietary supplements."

  "Supplements?"

  "Right. For fitness, hair loss, all kinds of things." Mina made a scoffing sound. "Apparently, she sells them on the side."

  I had to laugh. "So she tried to sell you some?"

  "No. It's even worse. She tried to get me to sell them."

  "No kidding?"

  "No kidding. Anyway, she tells me how it's this spectacular opportunity, and how it gets even better if I recruit other salespeople, because then I get money for what they sell, too."

  "So, multi-level marketing, huh?" I knew how that went. The people on the top made all the money, while the people on the bottom pestered their friends for peanuts.

  "Right," Mina said. "And she wanted me selling underneath her."

  Underneath her. That sounded like a nice place to be, even if that's not what Mina meant. Again, I shifted in my seat.

  If I were smart, I'd think about supplements instead. "So, what'd you tell her?"

  "I told her flat-out that I wasn't interested. But I said it nicely, which apparently, was a huge mistake."

  "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

  "Because she won't give up. And the closer we get to her dad's place, the more she pushes – you know, because I'm a captive audience. And the harder she pushes, the harder I resist. And pretty soon, all I can think is, 'Why did I ever let this person into my car?'"

  Finally, I got the connection. This time, Mina was in the passenger's seat, looking to make a deal. And me? I was her prospect – one she didn't want to piss off.

  Her logic was sound, especially for a nutjob – except more and more, I was doubting my initial assessment.

  By now, I was doubting a lot of things
.

  I asked, "So how'd the drive end?"

  "Terrible," she laughed. "With me getting a ticket."

  "For what? Tossing her ass out?"

  "No. For speeding, which I was. And you wanna know why?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I couldn't wait to get her out of my car."

  I gave my speedometer a quick glance. I wasn't speeding. What the hell did that mean?

  Nothing good, that's for damn sure.

  I asked, "So how fast were you going?"

  "Let's put it this way. I'm just lucky I didn't get a ticket for reckless driving."

  I smiled. "That fast, huh?"

  "Oh yeah," she said. "In the end, my 'good deed' cost me over two-hundred dollars."

  There was a time when this would've sounded like a lot of money. Now it was pocket change. But I saw what Mina meant.

  And I had to give her credit. She was no Tanya Whoever. She knew when to push, and when to let it go.

  And she learned from other people's mistakes. It was a rare quality – and another surprise.

  Silently, I added another mark in the "not-crazy" column. By now, they were adding up.

  I told her, "Listen, I see what you're getting at."

  "You do?" She sounded surprised.

  Why? Did she think I couldn’t read between the lines?

  It was time to remind her who she was dealing with. "Yeah, but I've gotta be straight with you."

  "About what?"

  "Bad news." I gave her a long, serious glance. "Sorry, but I'm not gonna sell your supplements."

  She was silent for a long moment, and then burst out laughing. Her laughter filled the car, warming me to the bone. And for once, I didn't mean the bone in my pants.

  I liked the way her laughter sounded against the purr of the engine and the beating of my heart.

  I wanted to make her laugh again.

  And other things.

  I glanced at the GPS. Three more minutes.

  And I hadn't begun to bargain.

  "Listen," I said. "I'll make you a deal."

  "What kind of deal?"

  "You tell me what I asked, and I'll agree to the sponsorship."

  "Seriously?" She turned in her seat to face me. "You will?"

  I'd been leaning that way, anyway. But she didn't need to know that, did she?

  I replied, "As long as you answer the questions."

  With a breathless laugh, she said, "Sure, anything. I mean, wow. So, um, what were the questions again?"

  Chapter 24

  Mina

  Feeling lighter than I had in weeks, I practically floated up the front steps to my parents' front door. I'd done it. Finally.

  My parents lived in a white two-story farmhouse with light blue shutters and a wide, welcoming porch. Surrounding the house were acres of dark, Michigan soil – some of the best in the world for growing all kinds of vegetables.

  And yes, this included tomatoes, even if they were technically a fruit.

  From the driveway behind me, I could still hear the low rumble of Chase's sportscar, whatever the thing was.

  He wasn't leaving. But for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why. Maybe he was making a phone call or something?

  My only other theory – that he was waiting to make sure I got safely inside – seemed too far-fetched to consider. But then again, the day had been full of surprises.

  As far as Chase's two questions, they weren't even hard. He'd wanted to know why I hadn't called someone for a ride, and what exactly did my mom want to hear.

  I'd been able to answer both questions in less a minute.

  I hadn't called for a ride because I dreaded giving my mom – or anyone else in my family – bad news about the festival.

  And once I'd answered this question, the answer to Chase's second question was obvious.

  What did my mom want?

  She wanted good news on the festival front, of course.

  And now, finally, I was on the verge of delivering it.

  With a happy smile, I reached toward the front door, only to have it swing open before my fingers ever touched the handle.

  In the open doorway, stood not only my mom, wearing jeans and a basic white blouse, but also my dad, wearing jeans and a flannel work shirt.

  Neither one of them said a word, but they didn't look happy.

  My smile faded. "Is something wrong?"

  My mom crossed her arms. "You tell us."

  As the question lingered, my dad stared past me through the open doorway. Sounding distinctly disgruntled, he muttered, "What the hell is that?"

  From the front porch, I turned to look. As I did, Chase's car finally began backing out toward the quiet country road. He wasn't even using the turnaround. Instead, he was apparently planning to back all the way out – which wasn't as easy as you'd think, considering that the driveway was longer than two city blocks.

  I replied, "You mean the car? Actually, I don't know what it is."

  "Well, it's not made around here, I can tell you that."

  Yes. He could. And he would, given half a chance.

  In his whole life, my dad had owned nothing but Fords, which made my own Chevy Malibu a bit of a fluke, at least as far as my dad was concerned.

  Together, we all watched as Chase succeeded in backing his car all the way out to the road with no apparent problems. Afterward, his car roared off at a speed that was a whole lot faster than whatever he'd been going with me.

  What was that about?

  I was still staring after him when my dad said, "The guy drives like a maniac."

  I turned to look. "How do you know it's a guy?"

  "Easy," he said. "He didn't use the turnaround." When I gave him a questioning look, he added, "It's a guy thing."

  Funny, I'd never thought about it until now. But he was right. My sister and I, along with my mom, we always used the turnaround. But my dad and brother? They never used it.

  Huh. Maybe it was a guy thing.

  As my parents moved aside to let me into the house, my mom asked, "So where's your car?"

  "Eh, long story," I said. "But listen, I've got terrific news."

  Chapter 25

  Chase

  As I sped away from the farmhouse, I used the voice-activated cell phone link to call for a background check on Mina Lipinski and her parents.

  The parents were an afterthought, added only because the way it looked, Mina was living with them, the same mom and dad I'd seen in all those festival photos.

  From Mina's driveway, I'd spotted both of them standing in the open doorway, eyeing my car as if its driver were up to no good.

  Meaning me.

  It was a real blast from the past.

  It used to be, parents looked at me like that all the time. But these days, I was the guy everyone loved to see – well, everyone except for Mina's dad, who'd looked like he'd wanted to rip out my liver and feed it to his hogs.

  I hadn't seen any hogs. But they had to be around somewhere, right?

  I mean, the guy was a farmer.

  As far as Mina herself, I still hadn't decided how much I wanted her involved in the larger campaign. Maybe a little. Maybe a lot.

  Maybe none at all.

  Her idea – sponsoring a bunch of small-town festivals – had been slowly growing on me. The concept was different than anything I'd ever done. Some might call it old-fashioned. I called it retro.

  My next step would be getting the TV people on-board, seeing if I couldn’t spin this up to something bigger. If I played my cards right, I'd be making hay out of this for months, maybe years if the idea panned out.

  Making hay. It was a funny expression – one I hadn't thought about until now. But now that I had, I was wondering why I hadn't seen any haystacks at Mina's place.

  What was that about?

  Weren't farms supposed to have them?

  Hell if I knew.

  I wasn't a country kind of guy – not because I had problems with it, but rather because town had
always been where the action was.

  As I drove, I took in my surroundings. The area was mostly fields – empty fields at that. Not much action around here.

  I was about ten minutes away from Mina's place when I was alerted to an incoming call from my younger brother.

  When I answered, Brody said with a laugh, "Alright. So, what'd you do now?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You must've done something," he said. "Mason's pissed."

  Mason was my older brother. Calling him pissed was like calling the sky blue. It wasn't exactly a surprise.

  I asked, "Pissed about what?"

  "You tell me," Brody said. "That's why I called."

  "Hey, you know more than I do."

  "Not much more."

  "Then how do you know he's pissed?"

  "Because maybe five minutes ago, I'm walking by his office, and I hear him on the phone, reading someone the riot act. I figured it was you."

  I had to laugh. "Not this time."

  "Huh." Brody paused as if thinking. "Then it must've been about you."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "I heard him say your name, and not in a friendly way."

  No surprise there. Mason and I hadn't been friendly for years. Oh sure, we got along every once in a while, but mostly, we were at each other's throats.

  He was only a couple of years older than I was, but you'd never know it by the way he acted, like the age difference was twenty years and not two.

  He wasn't a bad guy. It's just that I didn't need a father figure. What I needed was to be left on my own to do my own thing.

  Until recently, my own thing had centered around having a good time when I wasn't working my ass off.

  To Brody, I said, "Unfriendly, huh? Like that's a surprise."

  "Speaking of surprises," he said. "What happened with the crazy chick? The one on the Malibu."

  I'd almost forgotten. Brody had been in my office when I'd spotted Mina crawling onto the roof of her car.

  I'd been amused as hell. And curious. I'd left my office to see what was going on, and I hadn't seen Brody since.

  While driving, I explained to Brody that she'd been trying get in through the sunroof.

  "Using what?" he asked.

  "A screwdriver."

  "So she carries around a screwdriver?" He laughed. "Hell, I don't even do that."