I could think of a million better places to be married, assuming I ever did such a crazy thing. "A wedding, huh?"
"Well, actually the reception," Mina said. "Probably, they'll be married in a church. But this is where they'll have dinner and dancing afterward." As she spoke, her tone grew wistful. "I just love big weddings, don't you?"
Nope. I didn't love any weddings – big or small. To me, marriage had always seemed a risky proposition – giving up too much to get too little.
When I answered with only a shrug, Mina added, "Oh, and they also have Bingo here on Tuesday nights."
As she said it, an attractive redhead, maybe in her fifties, appeared in the kitchen doorway. When she saw us, she frowned.
When I looked to Mina, she was frowning, too.
Judging from their expressions, neither one of them was happy to see the other.
Huh. What was that about?
Chapter 41
Mina
Damn it. Of all the people to run into, why on Earth did it have to be Ginger Hawthorne? I had never liked her.
And of course, the feeling was more than mutual.
If I hadn't known this already, the look on her face would've made it crystal clear. She was looking at me the way I'd looked at Uncle Joe's festering foot.
But then, she plastered on a bright smile and called out, "Oh, Mina. Hi!"
I knew that smile. It was the same frenemy smile she used on my mom. I snuck a quick glance at Chase before plastering on a smile of my own. "Oh, hi!" Under my breath, I added, "Funny seeing you here."
It was even funnier a moment later when Ginger asked if I wouldn't mind "popping into the kitchen for a little chat."
Crap.
I didn't want to. But I didn't see where I had much choice. Ginger wasn't above causing a giant scene to get what she wanted.
Ask any waitress in the tri-county area. They'll tell you.
I looked to Chase. "Would you excuse me for a moment? Maybe take a quick look around while I talk to Ginger?"
Chase looked from me to Ginger, who was still waiting in the kitchen doorway.
As he did, I tried to see Ginger through the eyes of a stranger. She looked very stylish in a silky black blouse, a short black skirt, little black ankle boots, and a colorful silk scarf draped over her slender shoulders. Her longish red hair looked salon fresh, and her makeup was perfect as always.
When I looked back to Chase, he was frowning like he wasn't any happier to see Ginger than I was.
I couldn’t exactly blame him, considering that he was probably pressed for time.
But there was nothing I could do about it now – or at least, nothing that wouldn't cause a giant scene. Quickly, I assured him, "It won't take long. I promise."
I only prayed that I was telling the truth. After all, I'd already broken one promise today and hated the thought of breaking another, especially with the same person.
Earlier in the car, I'd promised to tell Chase what I'd been thinking.
And what had I given him?
A weather report.
A very long and rambling weather report.
But with all of the crazy naked thoughts bouncing around in my brain, the weather had been my only safe option.
Safe.
There was that word again. Today, it was chafing like a bloody blister.
Finally, Chase gave a single nod. "If you need me, just holler."
A minute later, I felt like hollering, alright – but out of frustration, not true need.
And why? It was because Ginger wasn't alone. She was with her daughter – the one with the yoga studio, the one who'd been the Tomato Queen while I'd been runner-up, and the one who'd stolen Bryce out from under me.
As far as Bryce, I meant that literally. I'd given him my virginity. And what had Emory given him? A week of sun and sex at her mom's condo in Florida.
At the sight of Emory, I stopped just past the open kitchen doorway and tried not to curse out loud. Emory was standing near the sink, wearing a slinky red dress that seemed terribly out of place in the commercial country kitchen.
Her long dark hair was piled high on her head, and she was wearing lots of jewelry and very high heels. With a little smirk, she said, "I see you've been busy."
If she meant busy kicking myself for not recalling that I'd heard multiple voices upon entering the hall, she was absolutely right.
I should've taken a moment to consider that Ginger wasn't alone. And then, I should've taken an extra moment to consider that her companion just might be Emory, the gift that kept on giving.
Like Herpes.
I gave Emory a stiff smile. "I see you've been busy, too." I wasn't even sure what I meant – busy starting a new business or busy popping up at the worst possible times.
You know, like the aforementioned social disease.
In reply, she cocked a hip and said, "Don't you know it."
I knew something, alright. If I were the type to rip out a liver, I'd go straight for hers. Suddenly, I was almost wishing my dad did have hogs. You know, just in case.
I turned back to Ginger and asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"
With a brittle smile, she replied, "You."
"Me? What about me?"
Her chin lifted. "You owe me an apology."
Seriously? But of course, I knew what she meant. More than a month had passed since Ginger had started that rumor about me losing the bank's sponsorship.
Okay, so the rumor had been true, but at the time, I'd been working like crazy to solve the problem.
And besides, why should I apologize for her blabbiness?
I crossed my arms. "Oh, really? An apology for what?"
"Your mother was very upset with me."
Yes. She had been. Apparently, my mom had given Ginger a blistering talking-to for gossiping about her daughter – meaning me, of course.
For this, I was deeply sorry.
But I'd already apologized.
To my mom.
Not to Ginger.
And my mom, in turn, had apologized to Ginger for calling her a "shameless busybody." Now, the way I saw it, everyone who deserved an apology had already gotten it – unless Emory wanted to apologize to me for screwing my boyfriend.
Stiffly, I told Ginger, "I'm sorry to hear that."
I meant it, too. I was incredibly sorry that my mom had gotten upset. And now, if Ginger wanted to take my latest statement as an apology to herself, she could.
Or not.
Either way, that was as good as she'd be getting.
Ginger frowned. "Is that it?"
"Yup, that's it."
Her frown deepened. "But that's hardly a real apology."
"Well, that's all there is." I gave her a tight smile. "Sorry."
Her eyes narrowed. "But that wasn't real either."
As she spoke, Emory sauntered closer and said with a little snicker, "Just like her mom's boobs."
I felt my jaw clench. "What?"
Emory explained, "They're not real either."
When my only reply was a cold stare, Emory said in a mock whisper. "You know, that little surgery your mom had last year?"
Oh for God's sake. The way I saw it, my mom could have all the cosmetic surgery she wanted. It was nobody's business.
Still, it wasn't even true.
And besides, everyone knew that Ginger and Emory had both gotten nose jobs before their eighteenth birthdays. So, to see them snickering about my mom? Well, it was a little hard to stomach.
Even so, this wasn't the time or the place to be telling them so, not with Chase Blastoviak waiting for me in this very same building.
With this in mind, I announced, "If we're done, I need to go." And with that, I turned away, only to stop in mid-motion when Emory said, "You're not gonna catch him, you know."
Him?
Meaning Chase?
I turned back. "Excuse me?"
With a brittle laugh, she said, "Oh, come on. I saw you."
; I shook my head. "You saw me what?"
She and her mom shared a long, amused look before Emory said with another snicker, "I saw you chasing him down the street."
Huh? "When?"
"Outside the coffee shop," Emory said. "Man, he couldn’t wait to get away from you."
I was so stunned, I could hardly speak.
Emory had seen that?
Oh, God. What if she'd heard us, too? In my mind, I could still hear Chase telling me, "Look, I don't want to fuck you, okay?"
At the memory, my stomach twisted into a knot so tight I felt nearly nauseated.
He'd been so horribly rude.
I'd planned to hate him forever.
But somewhere along the way, I'd stopped hating him. And then, as if that weren't bad enough, I'd kept on going until I'd reached the point where I was doing the exact same thing he'd accused me of – lusting after him.
Talk about humiliating.
I was still trying to gather my thoughts when Emory added, "Abigail just loved hearing that."
My jaw dropped. Abigail? The owner of the coffee shop?
In what could be no coincidence, Abigail had fired me the very next day.
She'd been absolutely livid, too, as if I'd dragged Chase Blastoviak into the coffee shop and screwed him silly on the largest table, the extra- sturdy one near the front window.
Huh.
The thought was oddly appealing.
I gave a quick shake of my head. I really did need to focus.
But it wasn't easy. By now, my thoughts were a jumbled, mixed-up mess – and not only because my feelings for Chase had changed so dramatically.
To think, I'd been blaming him for something he'd never done.
All along, I'd believed that he'd gotten me fired from my barista job, that he'd complained to the owner, or more likely had some lackey do it.
I'd hated him for that.
But now, I knew the truth.
I'd been fired thanks to Emory, not Chase.
As the newfound knowledge settled over me, I felt a surge of relief, followed by a surge of renewed anger at my old nemesis.
Emory.
There she'd been with a brand-new business. And there I'd been, working as a barista to cover my expenses after losing my bank job.
Emory had been riding high while I'd been down in the dumps. And yet, she'd seen fit to kick me, anyway.
What a total bitch.
I was still standing there in shocked silence when she said with another snicker, "And just look at you. I mean, come on, Chase Blastoviak is a sophisticated guy."
Was he? Oh, sure he dressed sharp and always looked like a million bucks, whether he was wearing a business suit or something more casual, like the jeans and dark button-down shirt he was wearing today.
But he was no snob. Or at least, I didn't think he was.
I gave Emory an irritated look. "Is there a point to this?"
She made a show of eyeing me up and down. "I'm just saying, a guy like that? He'd never go for the country look, if you know what I mean."
The country look? Okay, so I was wearing a long skirt and plain white blouse, but it's not like I was wearing a potato sack. I looked perfectly fine. Unless…did I look like some kind of bumpkin?
Regardless, I'd heard more than enough. "I don't know what you're getting at," I said. "But Chase and I, we're just…" I paused. I wasn't even sure how to put it. We're just business associates? We're just working together? I'm just his festival lackey?
I didn't want to make myself sound more important than I was, but I didn't want to downplay it either.
I was still trying to come with the right way to explain our relationship when a familiar male voice from somewhere behind me said in a tone laced with sin, "Baby. You're not gonna make me wait again, are you?"
Chapter 42
Mina
I felt myself swallow. Baby?
I whirled to look, and there he was, Chase Blastoviak standing in the open doorway.
With his gorgeous face and rock-hard body, he looked larger than life as his warm gaze raked the length of me.
I stammered, "Uh, sorry, what was that?"
We were standing only a few feet apart, but not for long. With an easy stride, he closed the distance and wrapped a muscular arm around my waist. He pulled me tight against his side and said with a smile, "We've got plans, remember?"
He felt so solid and warm that I couldn't stop myself from leaning into him, even more so because until his arrival, I'd felt so terribly outnumbered.
Somehow, I managed to say, "Oh, um. Yeah. That's right."
I wasn't even lying. We did have plans. And unless I was mistaken, those plans involved Chase driving me back to my parents' place so he could continue on with his Saturday night.
Still, as I craned my neck to stare up at him, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he would be doing – and who he'd be doing it with.
It wouldn’t be with me, that's for sure.
Chase looked to Ginger and said with an easy smile, "Sorry, but you've had my girl long enough."
His words settled over me like warm, comfy blanket.
His girl.
Oh, boy. That sounded so nice.
I knew he didn't mean it, but I didn't even care. At that moment, I would've gone along with just about anything, if only to see the horrified look on Ginger's face.
When I glanced at Emory, she had that same look – as if she'd just opened her mailbox to find a severed head, or maybe a missing liver.
Emory looked from Chase to me and back again. "So, the two of you…" She shook her head. "You're together? Seriously?"
Okay, yes I fully realized that Chase Blastoviak was way out of my league, but it's not like I was a goblin. Was I?
Chase replied, "If I'm lucky, we are."
Emory frowned. "Really?"
"Oh, yeah," he said. "I've been chasing her for a while, but Mina, she's a hard one to catch."
His statement was so ridiculous, I almost laughed out loud. Or maybe I was just happy that he'd rescued me from what had obviously been an ambush.
As I watched, Emory and Ginger shared a long, perplexed look. They were still eyeing each other when Chase said to Emory, "Hey, I remember you."
Emory whirled to face him, making her slinky red dress flare around her thighs before it settled back into place. She gave Chase a ravishing smile. "You do?"
"Yeah. You're the nut chick." Chase looked to Ginger and said, "We saw her licking nuts near the corner of Third and Jefferson."
Emory made a sound of protest. "I wasn't licking nuts. I was holding them, and not even really, because most of them slipped out of my hands."
I couldn’t help it. I snickered.
Emory's eyes narrowed. "What's so funny?" But then she paused. "Oh, come on! It wasn't like that at all."
I gave her my sweetest smile. "Like what?"
"Like however you're making it sound."
"Me?" I laughed. "I didn't say anything."
"Yeah, but I know what you're thinking." She whirled to her mom and said, "It wasn't like that."
Chase laughed. "Aw come on. Get your thoughts out of the gutter." He looked back to her mom and said, "Hey Ginger."
She looked. "Yeah?"
He gave her a sexy grin. "You know the score, right?"
I'd known Ginger my whole life, but I'd never seen her look so flustered as she looked right now. With a girlish giggle, she said, "Me? Oh, yeah. Of course."
Emory mimicked under her breath. "Oh, yeah. Of course."
Ginger turned to her daughter. "What's that?"
Emory sighed. "Oh come on, Mom. You're making a total fool of yourself."
Ginger's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying, he's a little young for you, don't you think?"
Ginger's mouth tightened. "What exactly are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything," Emory said. "I'm telling you straight up that if you're shopping for husband number-four,
you might want to check a different aisle."
I spoke up. "I hear produce is nice."
In unison, they both turned to look. For a long moment, neither one of them said a word. But then, they turned back to each other and started bickering.
Ginger told Emory, "Hey, I'm not the one all gussied up."
"Oh, please," Emory shot back. "If you were any more 'gussied', you'd be wearing your freaking tiara."
Chase leaned his head close to mine and whispered in my ear. "She has a tiara?"
His breath tickled, and I tried not to laugh as I replied, "Don't ask."
"Oh, I’m asking," he said. "And you know what?"
"What?"
"You're gonna tell me." His lips grazed my ear. "Or else."
Chapter 43
Chase
We were halfway across the open field before Mina started laughing. "I can't believe you just did that."
I looked over my shoulder toward the building we'd just left. The door was still propped open, but the sounds of bickering had faded in the distance.
I was still holding Mina's hand – and not for show either. Did she realize that? Maybe. Maybe not.
Either way, she wasn't letting go of my hand either.
Her hand felt soft and warm, and I was liking the way it felt. I gave her fingers a playful squeeze as I told her, "You owe me."
"Oh, I know," she laughed. "I swear, you came along just in time."
"No kidding," I said. "But that's not what I meant."
She gave me a sideways glance. "So…what do you mean?"
I smiled. "I mean, I'm calling bullshit on the weather thing."
"Oh." She wasn't laughing anymore.
I missed the sound of it, and I felt like a dick for pushing the issue. But the more I'd been thinking, the more I'd decided that something was bothering her.
Whatever it was, I wanted to know.
And for some messed-up reason, I wanted to make it right, assuming I could. Considering everything I had at my disposal – money, influence, you name it – I figured it would be easy enough to solve whatever problem was on her mind.
But first, I had to know what it was.
I could demand to know. Or I could take a roundabout way to get there.
"Listen," I said, "if you don't want to tell me, I get it." I gave her hand another squeeze. "But I can't have you thinking you pulled one over on me, can I?"
Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3) Page 16