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

by Sabrina Stark

  I'd just emerged from a restroom stall and was in the process of washing my hands when a stylish brunette sidled up to me at the sink.

  The restroom was crowded and noisy with the sounds of running water and female voices. With a friendly smile, the brunette said, "Hey, I know you. You're Mina Lipinski, right?"

  A couple of months ago, this would've caught me off-guard. Not anymore. By now, I was almost used to it.

  With a smile of my own, I replied, "Yup, that's me."

  She leaned closer to ask, "So…have you read it?"

  I gave her a perplexed look. "Read what?"

  "The book."

  "What book?"

  Her smile, which only a few moments ago had been warm and friendly, cooled several degrees as she said, "I think you know exactly which book I mean."

  I drew back. Crap.

  Given her demeanor, I could think of only one book that would excite such interest. But the book wasn't due out for another week, which made her question totally absurd.

  Still, I summoned up another smile. "If you mean Blasted by Angelique Delmonico, no, I haven't read it."

  "Well, you really should." Her lips twisted into a nasty smirk. "I've read it."

  "Oh." What on Earth could I say to that? "So, um, what'd you think?"

  At this, her tone grew snippy. "Hey, I'm the one asking questions here."

  I didn't like her tone one bit. Still, I was all too aware that I was here as an official spokesperson, which meant that I couldn't exactly tell her to buzz off. I tried for another smile. "So…are you a reporter or something?"

  "Didn't you hear what I just said? My job is to ask questions. Your job is to answer them."

  Oh, screw it. "Fine. Then you'll need to make an appointment." This wasn't the way I normally handled interviews, but in her case, it seemed wiser to retreat until I knew what the heck was going on.

  She gave a snort of derision. "Like I'd fall for that trick."

  Technically, it was no trick. Sure, fielding questions was part of my job, but that didn’t mean I had to field them in the ladies room.

  I gave her a sharp look. "Do you have a business card?"

  She crossed her arms. "I dunno. Do you?"

  I did, actually. Long before the first festival, the marketing department at Blast Tools had supplied me with a whole slew of promotional materials, including my own business cards, complete with the familiar orange logo.

  The cards didn't contain my personal information, but rather an email address and phone number set up exclusively for the campaign.

  I stepped away from the sink and retrieved a business card from my oversized tote bag. I held out the card in her direction. "If you'd like to call me, we'll set something up."

  "Why?" she said, even as she snatched the card from my hand. "You're here. I'm here. Let's just do it already."

  I felt my gaze narrow. "And you're from…?"

  "Michigan. Same as you."

  "Actually," I clarified, "I meant which media outlet."

  "Oh, I’m independent," she said. "A freelancer, if you will."

  The more she talked, the more her story stunk to high heaven. By now, I had the distinct impression that she wasn't here to interview me at all, but rather to cause some sort of trouble.

  "Lemme guess," I said. "You're a friend of Angelique's?"

  She stiffened. "What makes you say that?"

  "Call it intuition."

  "Oh yeah?" she said with a little laugh. "Well, you can't be too intuitive if you're with him."

  Him. Meaning Chase of course.

  I didn't know what exactly was going on, but I did know that I wanted no part of it, especially now that a sudden hush had fallen over the ladies room.

  When my only reply was a cold stare, the brunette reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a thick hard-cover book. "Here," she said, shoving the book in my direction. "Consider this a gift."

  Some gift.

  Still, I took it anyway. Anything to end this encounter. As soon as I did, she turned and flounced away, calling out over her shoulder. "Oh, and you're welcome."

  Yeah, and you're a psycho.

  But I didn't say it out loud, because this wasn't the kind of publicity we needed. So, with what I hoped was a smile, I shoved the book into my tote bag and left the restroom to find Chase.

  Tonight was one of our favorite events – a demolition derby sponsored by Blast Tools. We were attending it together. Or at least, that was the plan.

  And even though I stuck to that plan, I felt like I was only half-there as the cars rumbled into the dirt arena. Sure, my body was sitting next to Chase as usual, but my brain was somewhere else entirely, thinking about the book in my bag, and wondering what stories it had to tell.

  Soon, I decided, I'd be finding out.

  Chapter 59

  Chase

  Something was wrong. Mina didn't say so, but something was eating at her. What, I didn't know.

  We were sitting in the front row of tonight's demotion derby, where the action was the most intense. On the big dirt field in front of us, only seven cars were still running – jostling for position, ramming their opponents' cars, or hotdogging it for the crowd.

  In the stands encircling the field, maybe a thousand people were cheering for their favorites – or in some cases, booing at their least favorites.

  In the stands directly opposite us was our film crew, documenting not only the action on the field, but in the crowd, too.

  This included me and Mina.

  She'd proven to be a huge hit with our target audience. It hadn't hurt that the public was liking the two of us together, comparing us to Brody and Arden from the most-recent season of Blast.

  Meanwhile, Mason, in typical Mason fashion, had decided this only proved him right as far as my motives for hooking up with a nice farmer's daughter like Mina Lipinski.

  He was wrong.

  As usual.

  For this reason, along with others, I'd been handing all of the personal appearances on my own, letting my brothers off the hook while Mina and I packed our weekends with festivals across the region. Most of them were right here in Michigan – by design, not by chance.

  During the week, I'd been spending the usual amount of time at the office – and occasionally on some distant construction site for the TV show. But on the weekends, I'd been traveling from festival to festival with a girl I couldn’t get enough of.

  I was having more fun than I'd had in years – real fun, the kind that didn't make me feel like a shitbag when I woke the next day. Of course it didn't hurt that I was waking up with Mina in my arms, nestled against me like she'd belonged there from the beginning.

  Until tonight, Mina had seemed to be having a blast – pun intended. But for the past hour, she'd been quiet – too quiet – even as the drivers performed some of her favorite maneuvers.

  I knew which ones were her favorite, because this was our fifth demolition derby, and she was a riot when it came to cheering for the cars she liked.

  Not tonight.

  Tonight, she was still cheering, but it seemed more out of politeness than excitement, which made me wonder what was up.

  I wanted to know, but we were surrounded by cameras and crowds, so for her sake, I waited until there were only four cars remaining before leaning close to whisper, "You feeling alright?"

  "Sure," she said. "Why?"

  "Call it a hunch." I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "So, you wanna tell me what's up?"

  With obvious reluctance, she turned to face me. In a low voice, she said, "Alright, the truth is, I ran into somebody in the restroom."

  I tensed. So, someone was bothering her? If so, I didn't like it. "Who?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe a friend of Angelique's?"

  Shit.

  I eyed Mina with renewed concern. "Why didn't you say something?"

  She glanced toward the field just in time to see a red Chevy beater back into a black Ford sedan with enough force to crumple the F
ord's front end. A burst of steam erupted from the Ford's engine, and the crowd went wild as the Ford kept on going, crumpled hood and all.

  With a faint smile, Mina turned back to me and said, "I didn't want to ruin your fun."

  "Screw fun," I said. "Are you okay?"

  Mina nodded. "Yeah, she was just, I dunno, kind of rude, I guess. But it wasn't a big deal."

  I studied her face. Her words said one thing, but the worry in her eyes said another.

  "So, the person bothering you," I said, "what'd she look like?"

  "Wait, how do you know it was a she?"

  Mina was smart. If she were thinking straight, she'd know how, which told me that she was more bothered than she was letting on.

  I replied, "Because if it were a guy bothering you in the restroom, I wouldn't be here."

  With a sheepish grin, she said, "Oh. Yeah, I guess I see what you mean." And then she paused. "But wait. Where would you be?"

  "Where else?" I smiled. "Down there beating his ass." I might've been smiling, but that didn't mean I was joking. As for Mina, she could take it anyway she wanted.

  "Oh, stop it," she laughed. "You would not."

  "Wanna bet?"

  She studied my face for a long moment before saying, "On second thought, I think I'd better pass."

  "Listen," I said, "if anything like that happens again, you tell me, alright?"

  She looked back to the field. The Ford's engine was still steaming when it rammed an old white Chrysler, knocking the Chrysler into the Chevy. The Chevy reversed course and rammed the Chrysler in retaliation even as steam from the Ford's engine rolled over the battered cars like a lingering fog.

  Mina looked back to me and said, "It looks like a zombie apocalypse, doesn't it?"

  "Sure," I said, "if zombies can drive."

  "I don't mean the zombies would be driving," she said. "I'm just saying, it looks like the end of the world, you know?"

  I knew what she meant. But I also knew what she was doing. "Back to the person bothering you," I said. "If that happens again, I don't care what you think you're interrupting, you tell me right away, alright?"

  "Sure, but why?"

  I gave her a serious look. "Because nothing's more important than you."

  At this, her eyes softened in the way they did sometimes. "But that's not true," she said. "I mean, the campaign is the reason we're here, right?"

  Wrong.

  Sure, that was the official reason, but it wasn't the most important. Not anymore

  I told her, "I don't care why we're here. I'm not gonna let anyone hassle you."

  She smiled. "Oh, yeah? What about you?"

  I loved her smile. In fact, I loved it so much that I didn't turn toward the field, even when a loud crash was followed by the sounds of cheering.

  I kept my gaze on Mina. "What about me?"

  She was still smiling. "You hassle me all the time."

  She was right. I loved teasing her, but that wasn't the same, and she knew it. With a shameless grin, I replied, "Hey, it's a dirty job but someone's gotta do it."

  She laughed. "Oh, so now I'm a dirty job, huh?"

  For a nice girl, she could be surprisingly dirty, but in all the right ways. I didn't mean just sex. Even what we were doing now – watching a demolition derby – it was one of the many reasons I loved spending time with her.

  Here we were, sitting in the front row, where billows of dust flew from the dirt-covered field. But Mina wasn't going all squeamish. In fact, she'd been the one to suggest sitting up close.

  A few weeks ago, during our first demolition derby, she'd told me with obvious pride that her dad had won a tractor pull – whatever the hell that was – when he'd been only eighteen.

  And then, she'd gone on to tell me that she loved seeing local guys – or in some cases, gals – have their moment of glory.

  Moment of glory – that's what she'd called it. And it fit, just like Mina fit perfectly into the crook of my arm as we slept.

  This, too, was new.

  Normally, when the deed was done, I wasn't big on sleepovers – except now I was. And that wasn't the only thing that was different. With Mina, the time outside the bedroom was just as much fun as our time alone.

  I gave her hand another squeeze. "You're something, alright."

  "Oh yeah? What's that?"

  I winked. "The girl of my dreams."

  She laughed. "Yeah, right."

  She thought I was joking. I wasn't.

  Mina filled an empty spot that I hadn't even known existed. On impulse, I pulled her into my arms and brushed my lips against her cheek.

  I wanted to press my lips to hers and kiss her like I meant it, but I knew Mina well enough to think better of it. She'd care not only about the cameras, but also about the family of five sitting directly behind us.

  Still, I smiled. Later, I'd have her all to myself. And then, I could take my sweet time doing everything I was thinking about now.

  We were still gazing into each other's eyes when the engines grew quiet, and the crowd roared at the announcement of a winner. I turned toward the field just in time to see a young guy, maybe nineteen years old, climb out of the Ford. He lifted both hands in triumph as the crowd cheered him on.

  Mina said, "I guess that's our winner."

  "Nah," I said. "I'm the winner."

  She laughed. "Oh yeah. How so?"

  "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

  She rolled her eyes, thinking I was teasing her. I wasn't. But it was probably just as well.

  I had no plans to fall in love, much less settle down. Whatever we had, it was working here and now.

  No need to think beyond that, right?

  Chapter 60

  Mina

  From the stands, I watched in silent wonder as Chase strode onto the dirt field and presented the driver with a trophy along with an oversized check to represent the prize money he'd get for winning the derby.

  Tonight, Chase was wearing jeans and work boots, along with a gray T-shirt sporting the familiar orange logo of Blast Tools. His clothes were very similar to what he might wear on an episode of Blast, and this was surely no accident, considering that the crowd wanted to see the guy they thought they knew from watching the TV show.

  But they didn't truly know him. Or at least, they didn't know him as well as I did, thank goodness.

  By now, the crowd was going absolutely nuts as Chase encouraged another round of applause, first for the winner and then for all of the drivers with enough guts to mix it up in the derby.

  Afterward, he made a point to shake every driver's hand and pose for countless selfies. As the minutes passed, I couldn’t help but smile. He was really good at this sort of thing, and I loved watching him work.

  The funniest thing was, the way he did it, it didn't look like work at all. It looked like he was having the time of his life.

  Watching him, I felt warm and wonderful all over. It was a beautiful June night, and a cool breeze was drifting through the stands. And there he was – my guy, making all of those local guys, along with their families and team members, feel like they were the real stars of the show.

  By the time Chase made his way back to me, there wasn't a guy on the field who didn't feel like a million bucks, even those who'd crashed out early.

  The stands were mostly empty now, and the book in my bag faded further from my thoughts as Chase reached out and pulled me into his arms just the way I liked.

  Into my hair, he said, "You should've come with me."

  He always said that – not as a boss, but as a boyfriend, because surely he knew just as well as I did that Chase Blastoviak was the one they truly wanted to see – not some farmer's daughter from Hazelton.

  I'd only be a distraction, and I'd told him so repeatedly.

  Now I pulled back to say, "If there's ever a cakewalk, count me in."

  "Yeah," he laughed. "And count me out."

  It was an ongoing joke, because Chase had made it perfectly clear that there'd
be no cakewalks, not on his watch.

  I said, "And besides, I'm just dealing with the media, remember?"

  "Wrong," he said. "You're dealing with me, too. And I'm a tough customer." He smiled. "Remember?"

  By now, I remembered plenty – all of the nights cradled in his arms, all of the teasing and laughter, and the way he looked at me sometimes, like I was the only girl in the world.

  As far as him being a tough customer, there was a time when I would've agreed. But somewhere along the way, my opinion of Chase had softened considerably. Or maybe I was having too much fun to give our relationship as much thought as it deserved.

  "Speaking of tough," I said, "I meant to ask you something."

  "Yeah?"

  "Back in the beginning, you said you might enter one of the derbies. But you haven't. Are you still thinking about it?"

  He grinned. "Hell yeah."

  "So, you're gonna do it?"

  "Nope."

  "But you just said—"

  "Yeah, I think about it," he said. "It would be fun as hell."

  "But…?"

  "But it would be a dick move, don't you think?"

  I did think. But I was kind of surprised that he did. "You mean because you're the sponsor?"

  "Yeah. And because I can't win."

  "Oh." I paused. "You mean because you're the sponsor? Or because you don't think you'd do so great?"

  "Forget that," he laughed. "I'd totally kick ass."

  Now I couldn't help but laugh, too. "Well, aren't you cocky?"

  "Nah, just desperate."

  I almost rolled my eyes. Chase Blastoviak, desperate? I couldn’t even imagine. I gave him a skeptical look. "Desperate, huh?"

  "Hey, I'd have to win," he said. "I can't look bad in front of my girl, can I?"

  His girl. He didn't say it often, but every time he did, my knees still went wobbly.

  When I made no reply, Chase added, "And then, when I won, you know who I'd be?"

  "Who?"

  "The douchebag who sponsored an event and ran off with his own prize." He flicked his head toward the now-empty field. "And these guys, they deserve their moment of glory, you know?"

  I smiled. "Hey, that's my line."

  "I know," he said. "I’m stealing it."

  "Is that so?"

  He leaned close to whisper in my ear. "And that's not the only thing I'm stealing."