Bachelorette for Sale (10 page)

Why else would he leak private information to the reporter other than to discredit Jason’s company? If Stan was working with his direct competitor, RIB, no telling what he’d do next to get his way.

“Dig in, my friends. This is a celebration, we’re not in mourning.” Dave tossed him another beer before setting the slabs of charred ribs on the table. “Stop stressing. Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time.” He wished he had Dave’s c’est la vie attitude.

“What’s the deal? You didn’t follow Fubar’s dating advice, did you?” Brody asked as he bit into the succulent meat. The look on Jason’s face must have been all the answer he needed because he about choked to death on his food laughing. “Man, when are you going to learn?”

“I ask myself that all the time, Bro. Thanks to Fubar, she thought I was a producer looking for a new porn star.” Both guys snorted beer out their noses onto their plates. It was pure karma in Jason’s opinion for making him go on the date in the first place. He filled the guys in on the last forty-eight hours before digging into his own dinner. He left out his mixed feelings for Cherry. The last thing he needed right now was more advice to get him into trouble and his head more mixed up. The woman intrigued him. She wasn’t anything like he’d expected: vain, demanding, or high-maintenance. Instead, she was giving, dedicated to the community, and alluring. Yeah, that was the right word. Like the sirens that used to lure sailors to their death. He couldn’t refuse the pull Cherry had on him. “Doesn’t matter now. No thanks to the King of Bad Ideas, we got the job. The rest will work out fine. The date was just business, and Cherry and I are only colleagues.”

Dave sat with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Brody quietly ate, focused on his food and beer. Jason knew him better, knew his mind was turning all the events over in that analytical brain of his, working out a strategy to put them on top. It was why he was one of the top lawyers in the area.

He pushed the plate of bones away, taking his time to wipe his hands and drain the last of his beer. “The first thing you need to do is stop listening to Fubar about women. Christ, the man is dating Mandi, the man-eating barracuda. Second, you can be an impatient ass at times. Try to rein it in.”

“Anything else, Counselor? And what the hell are you grinning about, Fubar?”

Dave rocked back in his chair. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen you this twisted up before. Something tells me it’s more than the job. Perhaps a certain petite redhead has gotten to you, Cupid. What do you think, Bro?”

Brody kept a straight face, studying him. “For once, Fubar, you may be right.” Turning his gaze back on Jason, he asked, “When’s the next time you’re going to see Cherry?”

Not soon enough. “Friday night, did you want to chaperone?”

“Do I need to?” Brody asked.

“I think I can conduct a business meeting without the two of you to hold my hand or watch my back against a woman who stands all of five foot nothing.” Who fit perfectly up against him.

“If it’s business, you wouldn’t mind if I came along then, would you, partner?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, I would.”

“But it’s just business.”

Jason stared down his friend, arms crossed over his chest.

Dave dug into a pan of cookies Brody’s secretary sent over for them. “Methinks our boy protests a little too much. You should see her, Bro, dark red hair hanging halfway down her back, killer blue eyes, and a smile somewhere between siren and the girl next door. And then there’s her body, man, that rack . . .” Dave’s eyes closed, a look of ecstasy on his face.

If Dave wasn’t one of his oldest and best friends, Jason would have killed him. Blood pumped through his veins, pounding like a raging bull running for red. “Screw you, both of you. This is business. Nothing more. After Steph, forget it. I’m not saying Cherry is like her, but Steph was just the last in a long line to remind me I didn’t measure up. I can’t compete against the kind of dates Cherry’s used to. Plus we have a job to do.”

“Jase, Steph was four years ago, you need to let it go and get over her,” Dave said.

“Trust me, I’m over her.” Jason walked over to the outdoor fridge, pulled out three bottles, and distributed another round of beers before resuming his seat. “There are more important things in life than women, ’cuz, baby, love won’t pay the bills, but a successful business will. I’d rather have a roof over my head than an unfaithful woman in my bed any day. Besides, I have the two of you around, that’s like having two nagging old women in my life.”

O
n Thursday, bundled up in her heavy winter coat, scarf, and wool cap for survival, Cherry race-walked down Benefit Street. She was hoping to arrive before the black clouds overhead opened and let it pour on top of her. The stupid groundhog had promised an early spring. He had lied. Again. Someone really should make groundhog stew, she mused as she pushed through the doors of Geoff’s sandwich shop. Noise assaulted her from every direction. People yelled their orders in, the sandwich makers yelled at each other, and the diners carried on conversations at a hundred decibels (sort of like being at an Avenged Sevenfold concert).

A hand waved over the crowd and Cherry pushed her way through. The man waiting for her had silver hair, high cheekbones, twinkling blue eyes, and a devil-may-care smile. He was the most handsome man she’d ever met, her gramps. He moved his coat and made room for her at the cramped little table for two.

“I ordered you your sandwich, hope that was okay,” he said and handed her a basket of food and a drink.

Her
sandwich was turkey, Swiss, and applewood bacon on sourdough that the deli had named the Cherry after her first stint on
Finding Mr. Right
. It was what she always ordered, and as a regular, she didn’t mind the honor.

“Thanks. What did you get?” She was a bit afraid to ask. The names of the creations weren’t always politically correct, and with the way her gramps had been lately, who knows what he’d ordered.

“The Sloppy Ho.”

Well, thank goodness she wasn’t there when he yelled out the order.

“Almost went with the Frigid Bitch. Too healthy for me with spinach and cucumbers and sprouts and all that crap. Real men do not eat sprouts.” He took a large bite, dribbling BBQ sauce down his chin.

She could hear his arteries clogging with the roast beef and cheddar. Geoff ’s was never stingy on the toppings. “What’s Gram doing today? Is she at one of her club meetings? I tried to call on the way here to let you know I’d be a few minutes late. No one answered.”

“Nope, she’s taking a nap, or she was when I left.”

He didn’t look up or slow down while eating his sandwich—nothing to indicate there was anything unusual about her grandmother taking a nap. As if the man hadn’t been married to the woman for the past fifty years, and in that half century the only time her gram had been known to take a nap had been when her mom was a newborn or when she’d had the flu.

“Gramps.” Cherry put her hand on his arm to get his attention and his focus off the food. “What’s wrong with Gram? Monday when I came over for breakfast, she was still in her robe. I’ve never known her to leave your bedroom without getting dressed first. As a matter of fact, I can still recall asking her once why she didn’t stay in her robe when she came down for breakfast, you know, to stay comfy, as it was just the two of us. She told me, ‘Cherry, you never know when you’re going to have visitors calling, and really, you don’t want to be caught in your undies.’ So, what’s going on?”

He squeezed her hand. “Honey, your gram is fine, fit as a fiddle, and that’s straight from the doctor. She had her annual checkup not long ago. She stayed up late Sunday night reading, and I think she did the same thing last night. Now you stop worrying about us, we’re old but tough. I want to hear about the fund-raiser and this Valentino guy who you went out with.”

Stayed up late reading? Hmm. According to her gram, they were watching a movie. Something was up. She’d let it go for now, only because the only person more stubborn in this universe than her was her gramps. “Jason Valentine, not Valentino, and it’s nothing. Gram told you how Tawny talked me into participating in the auction. He’s the guy who won the bid. We had dinner and that’s that.”

“And now he’s working on your center.”

“Yep.” A deep sigh forced its way out, saying more than her words ever could.

Her gramps waited, knowing rushing her wouldn’t help the words form any faster. She didn’t want to talk about Jason, not right now. She’d been doing well to stay away from the center, and her desire to stop there had nothing to do with work.

“I think I should go back to school. What do you think?”

“You know my answer. Follow your dreams. Is this for the counseling gig?” He snagged a few of her fries, flashing his boyish smile.

Nodding, she swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “I need to do something more meaningful with my life. Helping with the community center is a good start, but I owe them for what they did for me all those years ago, and I want to do more. And now’s a great time. The only commitment I have at home is Tucker; he won’t complain too much about the heavy work load for a master’s degree, and I can still work.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

“Hmm, working on it. Gramps, when did you know Gram was the one for you?” She pushed her remaining fries in front of her grandfather. Thoughts were bouncing all around in her brain, jumping from one topic to the next. She didn’t want to think about Jason, but he was there all the same. Thankfully her gramps did the same thing, so he thought nothing of it.

“Well, your grandmother will tell you she knew as soon as she saw me. Us men, we’re a little slower on the uptake. Somewhere deep inside I probably knew from the start, but I didn’t admit it until my teens.” He ate the last of her fries, studying her. “Do you think this Valentino fellow might be the one?”

Gramps, ever the hopeful yet overprotective romantic. She would have corrected him, but she knew he was messing with her, looking for a rise. “Jason?” A small laugh escaped. “No. I was just curious.” Honestly, she doubted she’d ever find the right guy for her. He was probably out there. Somewhere. On the other side of the planet.

 

As he listened to Dave, Jason stood in the middle of the empty community room, his mood as black as the thunderclouds outside. “What do you mean we’re missing tools? I locked up when I left last night, and the place was locked up tight when I arrived this morning.”

Dave scratched the side of his head, looking around. “Do you see the reciprocating saw or the cordless drill? I’ve looked in every room, in both your truck and mine, and can’t find it. I know they were here yesterday.”

What the heck, was he losing his mind? He’d left the tools in the main room last night. No one else had access to the place. No point packing them up only to unpack them this morning. Together, he and Dave walked through the building, checking every room.

“Is that fresh paint?” Jason walked over to the wall, sniffing the paint. “I don’t remember graffiti in this room.”

“Who can tell? The place was a tagger’s haven.”

There were no new broken windows; those that were already broken still had the wood intact and secure. All the doors were locked with no signs of tampering.

He stopped as they headed back to the main room, studying one of the classrooms. “Someone got in here last night or else it was gremlins. All the work we did in here . . . It looks like they took a hammer to the walls in this room, punching holes in the drywall.” Jason stood for a moment, reining in the anger pulsing through him. When that didn’t work he turned, punched the wall, and created another cavity.

“Feel better?”

“Get Smitty out here to change all the locks as soon as he can. If he can’t make it before we leave today, take everything with you.” He dropped the tool belt he’d put on only a few minutes ago.

“Where are you going?”

“To lose a fucking half a day’s worth of work while I go replace our stolen tools.”

Dave pulled out his cell, thumb poised over the pad. “You’re not going to report the theft or go through the insurance company?”

“No. The police would have to notify the board. I’ll give Cherry a set of the keys on Friday. Tell her we found one of the locks had been damaged during the storm, so we had them all replaced. There’s no sign of anyone breaking in, all they have is our word that we locked up. I don’t want them to think we’re trying to take them for more money. In the long run, it’d be better to take it as a tax loss than risk losing the job, especially if one of them is looking for a reason.” Jason scrolled through his iPad, running off a list for Dave to handle while he was out, along with what he wanted Tim and Bobby Lawrence, his two workers, to handle.

He strode toward the doors, pissed about the setback. Granted in the grand scheme it was small potatoes. Still, someone had cost them a week’s worth of work. Not to mention he’d worked too damn hard for too damn long to lose his business now, and tomorrow he had his first walk-through with Cherry. They’d be working overtime to make up for the loss. Fine with him. Exhaustion worked almost as well as a cold shower. And when you’re too tired to think, you’re too tired to dream.

“Hey, boss,” Dave called after him. “Pick up lunch while you’re out.”

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“Your point? And since I’ll be here working my ass off, playing secretary for you, some flowers and chocolate to show your appreciation once in a while wouldn’t hurt, you know.” He playfully batted his eyes at Jason, flashing what he probably thought was a shy smile but in reality looked like a deranged clown’s.

Jason turned and headed back for the door, but not before calling out to his friend, “I only buy flowers and chocolate for secretaries who put out.” He laughed all the way to his truck. Days like today he thanked his stars for friends like Dave, always there to watch his back and remind him not to take life too seriously. Somehow he balanced Jason out, kept him from blowing his fuse. But that didn’t mean that Dave hadn’t landed in the middle of a fistfight or two helping Jason out as they grew up. Not that he or Brody hadn’t returned the favor a time or two as well, usually because Dave’s mouth had chased off his brain and whatever was floating around in the space inside his skull fell out of his mouth.

The guy didn’t think, he acted. He didn’t ask for permission, he asked for forgiveness. Like with the auction and Cherry. Granted, his scheme had worked, but for once Jason would have liked to be let in on the plans Dave made before they were put into motion.

Forewarned.

Forearmed.

Cherry had been on his mind day and night. The lady had brains, humor, and courage. If he hadn’t sworn off relationships she’d be the type of woman he’d gravitate toward. It took more than a pretty face or a great body, both of which she possessed, to capture his attention, and Cherry Ryan had it. Then again, so had Steph.

Unfortunately, in Steph’s eyes Jason hadn’t measured up to her standards. Oh, she loved him, or so she said. It was their lifestyle she had a problem with. She was tired of living on the west side, tired of scratching out a living and denying herself the finer things in life. So while he thought she was attending classes at the community college, she was working in a full-service massage parlor. Brody had bailed her out of jail the day her workplace was raided. She’d sworn she never provided any of the special services. That wasn’t what the guy who was with her said when they were busted.

Of course, it was all Jason’s fault. If only he’d gone to college. If only he’d stayed with a bigger company and worked his way up, he could have given her the lifestyle she deserved. If only life were an effing fairy tale his dad wouldn’t have been an alcoholic and his mom a drug addict and they’d have lived happily-freaking-ever-after.

Was Cherry looking for the fairy tale? Of course she was, why else would she go on that show,
Finding Mr. Right
?

He never lied to his friends. One kiss didn’t mean anything, right? This thing between him and Cherry was nothing but business. His company meant too much to him for it to be anything else. Although it didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun during the process.

The phone in his back pocket pinged. Pulling it out, he read the text.

This was too good to be true. He responded quickly, before she changed her mind.
No problem. C u at Pastiche.

And therein lay his problem, because so was he. She wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. Sure, he’d Googled her. It was important to know whom he was working for. He didn’t get it or her either. The media lambasted her, basically tore her up like a dog’s chew toy and went back for seconds. And it wasn’t just her ex-fiancé. Some of the guys she’d sent home had jumped on the bandwagon, describing her as a heartless diva who expected everyone to cater to her every whim. The stories didn’t jibe with the person he’d met. The shitstorm had lasted for weeks. Then she disappeared. And now she was back. Was it some kind of crazy mixed-up game she played? Damn puzzles. He’d always been a sucker for one.