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

by Sabrina Stark

  As those words echoed out between us, I sucked in a horrified breath.

  Damn it.

  I hadn't meant to say that. I wasn't even sure where the statement had come from. And now more than anything, I was wishing I could take it back.

  But I couldn't.

  As the saying went, the chickens had already flown the coop.

  Chase said, "A harem, huh? That's a long way from hogs."

  "Yeah, well, it's even further from chickens." But was it really?

  By now, I hardly knew. Oh sure, I could spout a whole bunch of facts about tomatoes, but hogs and chickens were a complete mystery, except for what I found at the grocery store.

  And when it came to harems, I knew absolutely nothing.

  I clamped my mouth shut and just prayed that Chase would let it go.

  No such luck.

  Chapter 38

  Chase

  She thought I had a harem.

  Now that was funny.

  Lately, I didn't have anything. This was the longest I'd gone without sex since high school, and it was messing with my head. Or clearing the cobwebs. I still didn't know which.

  Over the past month, I'd met with Mina maybe a dozen times. Each time I saw her, she was looking sexier and sexier – even more so because she wasn't trying to.

  Take today, for example. She was wearing a long, loose floral skirt that fell nearly to her ankles. Her white cotton blouse wasn't tight or low-cut. And her shoes were basic black pumps, more sensible than sexy.

  Her hair was in a loose ponytail, and she was wearing only a hint of makeup.

  The look shouldn’t have been sexy. But on her, it was, and I was having a hard time keeping my mind on business – or on the road.

  Last night, she'd starred in my dreams. And, as if that weren't bad enough, she'd starred in my thoughts early this morning, when I'd sought relief not with a warm and willing partner, but with my own hand.

  This was something else I hadn't done since high school.

  But I'd known I'd be seeing her today, so it was either that or prepare to get all hot and bothered if I happened to catch a whiff of her shampoo or if she started chewing on her bottom lip like she did sometimes when she was thinking.

  Did she have any idea how sexy that was?

  From the driver's seat, I gave her a sideways glance and almost groaned out loud.

  She was doing it now.

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  As I shifted in my seat, I heard myself say, "I don't have a harem."

  "Oh." She paused. "Well that's good, unless, um, you want a harem, I guess."

  If I wanted one, it wouldn't be hard to get. Hell, I could probably have one lined up by the time I got home.

  But the whole group sex thing had never been my idea of a good time. It was part of the reason I'd been doing a slow, pissed-off burn over Angelique's book.

  By now, I'd read the thing from cover to cover.

  It hadn't made me happy, even if some of it was true.

  Yeah, I could be callous. And yeah, I'd had my share of partners. And yeah, maybe I wasn't the kind of guy who'd be warmly welcomed by an overprotective dad.

  But I wasn't a raging pervert either.

  When it came to sex, I didn't even go looking for it. My whole adult life, it had always come to me.

  And after we'd hit it big?

  Shit, these days, I could have a different girl every hour and never run out.

  So yeah, some of Angelique's allegations were spot-on. But the rest were bald-faced lies – or nuggets of truth dipped in so much bullshit, it reeked to high heaven.

  That was another kick in the teeth.

  As far as the thing she'd called an orgy, that had been her fantasy, not mine. And hey, I was a decent sport when it came to pleasing my partners, so when she showed up with a couple of female friends looking to make my birthday "extra-special," I hadn't said no.

  To be fair, I hadn't wanted to say no – until the deed was done, and I'd found myself in a pile of naked women. Every guy's fantasy, right?

  Not for me, apparently.

  In the end, all I'd felt was empty, wondering if my twenty-ninth birthday was the peak of my existence.

  Money, girls, fast cars, and a kick-ass condo on the river – I had it all. Except I wasn't feeling it.

  It didn't help that both of my brothers were so fucking happy, it was sickening. Even Mason, who didn't have a happy bone in his body, had gone all soft and gooey for a girl who was way too nice for the likes of him.

  Don't get me wrong. I was happy for him. I was happy for both of my brothers. And I wouldn't take away their happiness for all of the tits and asses in a high-dollar strip club.

  It's just that with all the changes – both with my brothers and with myself – I'd been feeling a sensation I hadn't felt in years.

  Loneliness.

  Pathetic, right?

  Chase Blastoviak wasn't a lonely guy. Or at least, he didn't need to be – harem or no harem.

  To Mina, I asked, "What made you think I had one?"

  "Had what?"

  She knew what. But hey, if she wouldn't say it, I would. "A harem."

  "Oh, I don't know," she said. "What made you think I had hogs?"

  It was a good point, but hell if I'd admit it. I replied, "I didn't think you had hogs. I was talking about your dad."

  "Oh," she scoffed, "so my mom doesn't get her share of hogs?"

  She looked so indignant that I couldn’t help but smile. "Hey, she can have the chickens."

  "Which would be great," she said, "if only we had them."

  Mina still hadn't answered my question, except to make that crack about the hogs. Sure, I got what she meant. A guy like me – I'd have a harem the same way farmers had hogs – except her dad didn't have hogs, which meant that her logic was flawed.

  Looking to get her talking, I said, "So, let's say your dad did go for my liver. With no hogs, how would he get rid of it?"

  "Trust me," she said. "Your liver's safe."

  "Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

  Under her breath, she murmured, "Well, if he didn't rip out Bryce's, I doubt he'd go for yours."

  Bryce? Who the hell was Bryce?

  When I gave her a questioning look, she straightened in her seat and added, "But that's totally irrelevant. I'm just saying, your liver is safe, that's all."

  So she'd said.

  But now I was curious. "So who's Bryce?"

  "Nobody," she said. "I mean nobody anymore. I just dated him for a while, that's all."

  That's all, huh?

  I wasn't buying it.

  So Bryce was her ex. And he was on her dad's shit-list. I frowned. Or was it Mina's shit-list?

  Had Bryce hurt her?

  At the thought, I felt my fingers tighten around the wheel. In a careful voice, I asked, "So, whatever he did, you wanna talk about it?"

  "Nope. Definitely not." She gave me a quick, sideways glance. "But thanks for asking."

  The next time I glanced in her direction, she was chewing on her bottom lip again. This time, I wasn't distracted by her sexiness, but overcome by curiosity.

  "But something's on your mind," I said. "You wanna tell me what?"

  Chapter 39

  Mina

  As his question hung there between us, I reached up to rub the back of my neck. It felt hot and stiff, like I'd slept on it funny, which I had, thanks to the guy in the driver's seat.

  Today's excursion had been a last-minute thing, something he'd mentioned only yesterday.

  This little outing should've been no big deal.

  But for some reason, the thought of being alone with Chase Blastoviak had unsettled me a lot more than it should've.

  It's not that I thought he'd try anything.

  Mostly and embarrassingly, it was that I was almost wishing he would. And then, I'd be hating myself for wishing something so incredibly stupid.

  For the last seven years, I'd been playing it safe – dating only nice
, safe guys and sticking with nice, safe timelines.

  I didn't have sex on the first date. Or the second. Or the third. Instead, I waited until I felt something resembling love before doing the actual deed.

  This was smart.

  I knew this.

  But if I were being totally honest, safe wasn't cutting it. Not anymore.

  If I were the type of person to shirk responsibility, I'd blame my sudden dissatisfaction on the guy sitting in the driver's seat.

  Over the past month, I'd gotten to know Chase a little better. Sure, he could be a total jackass, but he also made me laugh. And he was incredibly smart, especially when it came to marketing.

  My degree had been in a similar field – public relations – which meant that advertising, marketing, and all of those related activities were near and dear to my heart.

  During the last month or so, I'd gotten a firsthand look at the way Chase operated, the way his mind worked, and the way he thought so far out of the box, the box might as well not exist.

  Watching him weave his magic had been too intoxicating for my own good. His ideas were great – half insane sometimes – but so creative, I couldn’t help but admire him.

  All of this would've been terrific if not for the other thing – the proverbial fly in the ointment of my life. Chase Blastoviak was quite simply the sexiest guy I'd ever met.

  And now, thanks to him, I'd been questioning that whole play-it-safe plan, the one I'd been following for seven long years.

  Suddenly, I was feeling like I needed a change.

  Or maybe I just needed a quick dash of spice before returning to a nice, safe existence.

  As far as Chase's question, I didn't know where to begin, or if I even wanted to. Something was definitely on my mind, alright.

  When I didn't answer right away, he asked, "Is it the chicken thing?"

  "Sorry, what?"

  "The thing on your mind. You're thinking of getting some chickens. Am I right?"

  I couldn’t help but laugh. "No."

  "So hogs, then?"

  I was still laughing. "No." He was obviously teasing me. And for once, it actually came across as sweet, which made no sense whatsoever.

  Chase Blastoviak, sweet?

  Not in a million years.

  In that same teasing tone, he said, "You're thinking something."

  Boy, was I ever. And one particular thought was so dangerous, I kept my lips stubbornly shut to make sure I didn't accidentally say it out loud.

  Chase persisted. "If you want, I'll tell you what I'm thinking."

  At this, I turned to face him. He looked surprisingly sincere, and I couldn’t help but smile. "Okay."

  "But if I tell you," he warned, "you'll have to return the favor."

  "Oh," I laughed. "So there are conditions, huh?"

  He flashed me a shameless grin. "You know it."

  His grin made my stomach flutter in ways that felt all too familiar. He'd been making my stomach flutter for weeks now, and it wasn't getting better. It was getting worse.

  At first, the fluttering had been a tiny little thing, something hardly worth noticing. But now, my stomach was fluttering so hard, it felt like a flock of butterflies were trying to escape.

  This wasn't good.

  Bryce had made my stomach flutter, too – maybe not quite so intensely. Still, the sensation was a distressing blast from the past.

  Until Chase, my stomach hadn't fluttered in years.

  He said, "So, we have a deal, right?"

  I considered his so-called deal. He would tell me what he was thinking, and in return, I'd tell him what I was thinking.

  Happily, I had so many thoughts bouncing around in my brain that I could pick and choose at random. For example, part me was thinking that today was a lovely spring day while another part of me was thinking that I'd just love to get naked with the least-safe person I'd ever met.

  Chase Blastoviak.

  Fortunately, he found me repulsive.

  Mental note. Stick with the weather.

  Finally, I said, "Alright, it's a deal." I studied his profile. "So…what are you thinking?"

  He gave me a long sideways glance. "You want the truth?"

  "Definitely."

  "I was thinking of renting some hogs."

  "What?" I laughed. "You can't be serious."

  But Chase wasn't laughing. "The hell I'm not."

  "Oh come on," I said. "First of all, I don't think hogs are something you can rent. And second of all, why would you want to?"

  "Why else?" he said. "Liver disposal."

  "Whose liver? I hope you don't mean mine." I frowned. "Or my dad's."

  "Eh, your liver's safe."

  With growing unease, I asked, "And my dad's?"

  "Also safe."

  Well, that was a relief. "Alright, so…" I tried to think. "Whose liver are we talking about here?"

  "This guy named Bryce."

  I blinked. "Wait, you don't mean my Bryce?"

  "Wanna bet?"

  "But you don't even know him."

  With a tight shrug, Chase returned his attention to the road. After a long moment, he said in a quiet voice, "He hurt you."

  The statement, so simple and honest, caught me off-guard.

  Yes. Bryce had hurt me, quite a bit, in fact. But Chase didn't know the details, and now I was worried that I'd somehow given him the wrong impression.

  I tried for a laugh. "Yeah, well, it was just a bad breakup, that's all."

  "No, it wasn't."

  I asked, "But how would you know?"

  "Easy," he said. "A dad doesn't go after some guy's liver for a bad breakup."

  I saw his logic. Still, I wasn't quite prepared to concede the point. "But my dad didn't go for his liver. And neither did I. See? So it wasn't that bad, just like I said."

  As I spoke, I turned forward once again and almost did a double-take. I'd been so engrossed in our conversation that I'd half-forgotten where we were going. The reminder came just in time as I spotted the narrow road that led to the fairgrounds.

  I pointed. "Look, it's our turn."

  Chase shook his head. "No. It's your turn." He gave me a meaningful glance. "Now c'mon. Tell me what's on your mind."

  Chapter 40

  Chase

  She didn't tell me.

  Instead, she served up some bullshit answer about the weather, something about it being unseasonably warm, a good day to tour the fairgrounds, and so on.

  It was nothing I hadn't known already.

  The funniest thing was, she'd taken maybe five minutes to say it, talking with barely a breath until I'd parked in the designated area and cut the engine. And then, she'd bolted from the car so fast, you'd think the thing was on fire.

  She'd said nothing about Bryce.

  But now, she was saying plenty about the Tomato Festival as we walked through the fairgrounds, giving it a preliminary look.

  There wasn't much to see.

  What Mina called the fairgrounds was maybe ten acres of open field with a couple of paved areas, a big red barn in the distance, and a large cinderblock rec center that she was calling Hazelton Hall.

  I saw nothing impressive except the girl I was with. Her hair was golden blonde in the afternoon sun, and her eyes were so blue, they put the sky to shame.

  I wasn't one to wax poetic, but there was something about her – something fresh and interesting that was making it hard for me to keep my mind on the campaign.

  As we walked along the empty field, she pointed somewhere off to our left. "See that spot over there?"

  I looked. "Yeah?"

  "That's where the midway will go."

  Absently, I replied, "Good to know."

  She pointed again. "And right there, they'll have a stage. That's where they'll have a band if there is one – and where they'll crown the Tomato Queen, too."

  I recalled one of the first two photos she'd shown me by accident. It was the pageant photo, the one of Mina with her sash and crown. Accordin
g to the sash, she'd been first runner-up – a real travesty the way I saw it, unless the winner was Venus herself.

  As we continued to walk, Mina pointed out several more spots – where vendors would set up tents, where the Ferris Wheel would go, where there'd be a first-aid station, and so on.

  Some of this, I already knew. Some of this, I didn't. All of it was of no interest compared to the other questions rolling around in my brain.

  Who was Bryce?

  What had he done?

  And here was the real question. Why did I care?

  As far as Bryce, I knew that he was her ex. But that told me almost nothing. Was their breakup a recent thing? Or was it something from a while back?

  And what had he done to piss off her dad?

  Here was another question. Why was Mina acting so different?

  Yeah, she was the same girl I'd met all those weeks ago, but she was talking non-stop, as if her life depended on it.

  Was she nervous? Or was she worried that if she left me an opening, I'd call bullshit on her broken promise to tell me what she was thinking?

  I should call bullshit.

  Normally, I would.

  She had it coming.

  She'd reneged on our deal.

  I knew it. And from the look in her eyes, she knew it, too.

  She was still talking up a storm when we headed for the big cinderblock building. Yesterday, Mina had gotten the keys from the committee so we could take a look inside. But when we reached the main door, it was already open – not just unlocked, but propped open a few inches with a rubber doorstop.

  Mina paused to look. "Well, that's odd."

  When she made a move to go inside, anyway, I said, "Hang on. Lemme go first."

  She hesitated. "Why?"

  "Just in case."

  "In case what?"

  I gave her a look. "In case whatever."

  "Oh, come on," she laughed. "I'm sure it's fine."

  "Me, too," I said. "But I'm still going first."

  Finally, she moved aside, and I entered the building. The lights were already on, and I heard female voices coming from somewhere in the distance.

  From behind me, Mina said, "Oh, someone's in the kitchen, that's all."

  She moved beside me and pointed to the far end of the building, where a wide metallic shutter was pulled down low over a long white countertop.

  She said, "The kitchen's over there, behind those shutters. Whoever's in there, they're probably just setting up for a wedding."