Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance Page 5

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Frankie cut her off, stepping closer. "You even paid me back for the tomato juice and replaced the outfit I had to toss out. And you cleaned my garage. Most friends would let the other person help and give without feeling as though they had to make up for it."

  "That wouldn't have been fair," she protested, taking a step back. "I couldn't just show up, expecting you to help and inconvenience you and cost you—"

  Frankie came around the table, pushed away the chair she had between them and placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. His body stilled and so did hers. "If you want to be friends, then for heaven's sake, woman, let me act like one. Let me give you something in return." He slowly lowered his finger.

  Mandy's eyes prickled and she struggled to keep her voice steady. "I do...I get a lot from being your friend. Your friendship means everything to me. You don't understand. I—"

  He pressed his finger over her lips again and shook his head. "No."

  "No what?" she said through his finger.

  "I'm not letting you out of this one."

  "There's nothing to be let out of, Frankie." She held Frankie's gaze until she had to look away, tears stinging her eyes.

  "What are you afraid of?" he asked.

  She let out a snort. "Nothing." Frankie grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the kitchen.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, trying not to panic. What if he kissed her? What if he demanded they get it on right here on the table instead of going back to her bedroom that overlooked the alley and she said yes and their friendship was never the same as a result?

  "There's only one way to settle this," he said, pulling her to the door.

  Right. Of course. His place had a bigger bed.

  No. He wasn't going to do something like that.

  Which was good. Wasn't it?

  * * *

  Mandy squeezed her hands around her truck's steering wheel, trying not to react to Frankie's challenging grin from the old beater with the powerful engine rumbling beside her. She had nothing to worry about, right?

  She had good tires.

  She had a good engine with pep.

  She was a good driver.

  But was she as good as Frankie in crap conditions like today? Over the years, they'd worn the meadow's homemade track down to dirt on the corners where their tires had skidded out in the abandoned bison paddock and today, it was covered in slush and half frozen crud and surrounded by unpredictably deep snow banks. One false move and she'd be bogged down and stuck. Even in her big truck.

  She called to Frankie, who had his window down, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  He shot her that wicked grin and punched the gas pedal, making the frame of his car twist and lift like a horse ready to race out of the gate.

  Mandy focused on the track. It was a mess of snow, mud and slushy puddles, but had enough of a packed down base from casual skidoo races held over the winter that they would be able to manage. In fact, she might be able to use her truck's height to her advantage and blast slush onto Frankie's windshield to give her a leg up. Because honestly, if he got the momentum going in his car, he could blast through as well as she could.

  Her nerves poked at her stomach, sending it into a tizzy.

  If Frankie won, she had to open her own restaurant in his building. If she won, she'd be able to prevent turning their friendship into a business partnership. By winning, she wouldn't lose—in more ways than one.

  "Why are you shaking your head?" he called up to her. "You're not a big chicken sandwich are you? Bawk-bawk!"

  She gave him her best glare. "Just thinking how I'm going to have to mollycoddle your poor bruised ego when I crush you. I know how you feel about being beaten by a girl. A girl in a much bigger vehicle."

  "Oh, I don't think so," he said with a glimmer in his eye that made her nervous.

  Her voice wobbled as she turned off her truck, head on her steering wheel. "I can't do this." She saw his question coming and plucked the first excuse she could think of. "I can't betray Benny. He didn't teach me everything so I'd become his competition."

  Frankie shut off his engine and slung an arm across the passenger seat so he could lean out the open window to see her better. "People like choice, Mandy. You'd offer something Benny doesn't."

  "He's my mentor. I can't go against him. It doesn't feel right."

  "People do it all the time."

  "Would you go against Alex with your own parts store?"

  "Blueberry Springs couldn't handle another parts store. But it can handle another restaurant—especially if you made it a place you'd like going to."

  Mandy stared at the crocuses peeking out of the meadow's still snowy ground, toying with the small chain around her neck.

  "Why don't you eat at Benny's, Mandy?" he asked.

  "I do eat at Benny's."

  "Yeah, the two healthy menu items. That's not eating. Open a place that has what he doesn't. You won't be competing, you'll be complementing. Just like with my restoration business. I complement the parts store."

  "Healthy stuff doesn't sell."

  "Says who?" Frankie scoffed.

  "People can do healthy at home. They come out for the deep fried, greasy stuff."

  "Really?" His forehead wrinkled in thought. "So you're the only one in town who wants healthy when she goes out to eat?"

  "Well, no." She thought of how often moms picked through the menu for healthy items for their kids or how Fred, who ran the carwash and gas station, had stopped coming every week since his heart attack. There really wasn't much more than salads when it came to heart smart on Benny's menu. Even his soups were all cream based. But whenever she talked about adding healthy items, Benny said that wasn't what his restaurant did and customers could go somewhere else if they wanted rabbit food. But there wasn't anywhere else that offered 'rabbit food.' Blueberry Springs only had Benny's, a diner, and two fast food places.

  Maybe there was a niche she could slip into. And it would fit with who she was. She wouldn't have to compromise. She wouldn't go home smelling like garlic, burned butter, and old fryer oil.

  And that wraps place she saw online just before Frankie came over...

  If she lost this race—or was it win this race?—she would have a building to use. If you had a building, the restaurant (and money) would come...

  Shooting Frankie a grin, she started her engine. Why the hell not try getting what you came for? She pointed to her chest. "If I win, I pay rent or lease your building. Something. Not free. You win, your conditions." Under her breath, she added, "And you are so not going to win." She was going to cream his beater's ass, big engine or not. She had big tires and there was one hell of a lot of mud and slush to get through.

  Frankie tilted his head, a big grin spreading, making his eyes twinkle in delight. Lord as her witness, her heart did a little hop, skip and a jump, along with a hip-hip-hooray at the sight of that smile. Damn. What was he doing to her? Friends shouldn't be that delighted to see a twinkling smile.

  "My conditions, huh?" He rubbed his hands together and she had a moment of heart failure. Oh, hell. What had she just walked into? He winked and started his engine. "This should be fun."

  "Frankie. Within reason," she snapped.

  "Me winning could be the best thing to ever happen to your business plan."

  "Yeah? Well, prepare to eat mud—it's low to the ground and all the rage," she muttered, putting her truck in gear. She concentrated on her slush-splashing plan. She'd have to get ahead of him and cut in front while steering into the slush at the first turn. That might be tricky. He was a pretty good driver and he was on the left, meaning it would be easier for him to take the inside. Hang on. That was completely unfair.

  She popped her truck into reverse and backed up, laughing as Frankie spun around in his seat to check up on her. She cranked her wheel hard and pulled alongside Frankie's left, putting her in line for the inside track.

  How she wished she could see
his face now. How was she going to know when it was time to race? She couldn't see him down there. That was why he was always on the left. Practicality.

  Well, practicality would have to take a back seat today.

  She unbuckled her seatbelt and crawled across the seat to look down at Frankie.

  He grimaced up at her. "Maybe not so smart, huh?"

  "I'll honk. On the third honk, go."

  Frankie shrugged and glanced up. "All right."

  Mandy settled herself back behind the wheel. She made sure her truck was in four-wheel drive and visualized winning. She was ready to rumble. To roll. To cream his sorry white, tight little pinchable ass.

  She only hoped he realized that when she moved into his building she was going to have to make some major alterations, such as cutting holes in the outer walls and roof for venting, maybe move a few walls, and redo the plumbing and electrical. Because one way or another, that place was going to end up with a restaurant in it.

  Well, maybe.

  Mandy took a deep breath, trying to shut out all the reasons why she shouldn't open her own place and focus on how nice it was to be the one in control of the race start, for once. How great it would be to be totally ready before—HONK!

  "Frankie!"

  Geez. He was so friggin' impatient. She was the one who was going to honk. Now she had to start all over again with her visualization.

  HONK!

  Son of a—HONK!

  Christ!

  Mandy shoved her foot down on the accelerator, her tires spinning out as Frankie pulled away, the mud not bogging him down one iota. What the hell? Those weren't mud tires. Did he under-inflate them for better floatation? The tricky bastard! She eased up on the gas, quickly moving forward, catching up with him.

  She took the first turn neck-and-neck with Frankie, her back end slipping out in sync with Frankie's. Mud spat up from his tires as he straightened out, hitting the body of her truck with great thuds as he pulled ahead to take a short right bend in the track. She tried not to flinch as more mud hit her paint job as his car fishtailed. She pinned it, cutting him off before he could move over and take the inside lead for the next corner. She tore between the stand of poplars, their tender buds tapping her sides as she flew by. Her truck hit the snow and ice and accelerated over the compact ground. She flew into the sun and splashed through a massive, slushy puddle. She grinned, certain she'd splashed Frankie if he was still back there.

  Clenching the steering wheel, her arms jerked as she flew through squiggly mud, then over a sudden patch of hard pack. She slowed for the second last turn, her breathing jagged with adrenalin. She waited for the right second to accelerate and pull herself back on a straight path so she could bring it home. One more curve. She saw a flash of Frankie's car behind her and grinned. She was going to win!

  For once!

  He must be so frustrated.

  She let out a laugh.

  Wait. Unless he was letting her win. No, there was no reason for him to do that. Especially since she'd gloat around town for months.

  She went into the last turn, glee making her hit the accelerator too soon. Her back end slipped out. She tried steering into her spin and forced herself to relax. The steering wheel felt locked as momentum morphed her spin into a long, uncontrolled skid. The thick mud and heavy snow worked against her efforts and the built up momentum took her sideways. She steered and played with the gas pedal, afraid she'd hit something hard and overturn. She frantically forced the steering wheel this way and that, in hopes of regaining control.

  Nothing.

  The bushes and the fence were coming up fast on her right. If she managed to move forward, she'd end up in the creek, taking out the rickety foot bridge. Either option left her with a ruined paint job and quite possibly much more.

  The seatbelt dug into her shoulder and her hands slipped on the wheel.

  Breathe!

  Focus!

  Look where you want your vehicle to go.

  It wasn't working. Nothing was working! Her heart thundered so hard, she could feel it punching the locked seatbelt.

  She was still skidding sideways, Frankie taking the lead as he stayed on the track, going slowly. The old fart! When did he start driving so cautiously? The bastard was going to win while she totaled her truck for nothing.

  She let out a cry of frustration and slammed the gas, sending clumps of snow, mud, and grass flying over her truck as her tires tore at the earth, clumps hitting the windshield and obscuring her vision.

  In a panic, she slammed on the brakes, Frankie's advice about always accelerating out of bad situations fully ignored. She'd rather get stuck than keep heading for her current options. With both feet jammed down on the brake pedal, she slowly slid to a halt. Her hair fell over her face and she rested her sweaty forehead against the steering wheel. Safe.

  She hadn't won, but she was alive and hadn't totaled her pride and joy. Hooray for small miracles.

  She slowed her breathing until she was no longer making little gasping yips. There was a low knock on her door and she slowly opened it.

  "Okay?" Frankie asked, looking up, pale-faced.

  She nodded.

  "Good," he said, leaning back on his heels, a huge grin growing like a fertilized weed that she felt tempted to yank out. "Because it looks like you're opening a rent-free restaurant on Main Street."

  Chapter 5

  Mandy wiped down the window table, watching the couple a few tables away as they enjoyed their coffee, each leaning over the table to catch every word the other shared. No cellphones vying for attention. No kids interrupting and spilling drinks. No staring out the window, waiting for the meal to be over. Just absorbing bliss.

  With her hands still trembling from her almost-crash, she emptied the last of the coffee pot in the sink at the back and glanced over her shoulder toward Benny's office. Maybe she could convince him the rumors were simply about her wishes to renovate the place, seeing as it still looked as though two places had been smooshed together—which they had. Benny was well aware she was tired of tripping over the ratty carpet seam between the old and new floor.

  The door's bell jangled and Mandy looked up, then glanced at the clock. The kitchen was closing in ten minutes and here was Sophie and her tired looking family. She considered turning them away, but instead, seated them before running to the kitchen to beg Leif to keep the kitchen open.

  He gave her a suffering look. "I've got a life, you know."

  "So do I," she replied before wondering whether there was any truth to the statement. She returned to the dining room, grabbing a booster seat on her way to help Sophie seat her children.

  "Oh, wait," Sophie said, standing up. "We're at Beth and Oz's table."

  "It's okay," Mandy said, feeling the sting. "They're on their honeymoon."

  "Oh, shoot. I am so sorry, Mandy." Sophie fell into her seat with a remorseful expression.

  Mandy ignored the pity and busied herself settling menus in front of the adults and crayons and coloring pages in front of the kids. She was about to pass some to Sophie's son when she paused, giving him a teasing smile, holding the crayons to her chest. "Wait a second...didn't you have a birthday last week?" She gave him a look. "You're not too big for coloring, are you?"

  The boy gave her a devilish look and made gimme hands at the crayons. She laughed and placed the plastic cup of crayons in front of him, along with a coloring placemat.

  While she was running the couple's payment through the register, she felt someone behind her. Benny, his face grim, asked, "Can I talk to you when you're done?"

  Mandy's stomach felt the way it had the time she'd chased Frankie off the meadow cliffs by the river: it sunk hard and fast. She'd ruined her car, which had, in the end, allowed her to buy her 4x4 as well as smarten up about paying better attention when chasing Frankie. She rubbed her chin in memory of the scar she'd received when she'd slammed into her steering wheel on impact. All these years, she'd worried about almost killing him at the
tower? She should have worried about him killing her.

  Following him to his office, she tried to stay cool, running through the long list of excuses she'd thought up during her shift. By the time she reached his office, she couldn't remember a single one. She just hoped he'd be quick about whatever punishment he felt fit for her betrayal.

  Benny sat at his desk and tucked his hands under his chin. "What's this I hear about my retiring and you taking over the place?"

  "Benny, I'm so sorry." Mandy sagged onto the couch and sighed. "Gloria took a conversation out of context."

  Benny nodded, silently. "Are you looking for more?"

  Mandy closed her eyes. She was tired. Tired of working so damn hard and not going anywhere. And...tired of wanting more. She opened her eyes and studied Benny, who didn't look anywhere near as tired as she felt.

  "I don't know," she said at last. "I just feel like I need to take some control of my life."

  "And boot me out of my own business?" he asked in disbelief.

  "No. No." She held out her hands. "I'm so sorry. I was just spouting off to Gloria but she's obviously spread the word—wrongly."

  "You want your own place?"

  Mandy bit her lower lip and held her breath, watching Benny's expression. She didn't know what she wanted. And to her surprise, Benny looked more interested than anything. Not offended. Not insulted. Not peeved. Not angry. Interested. Intrigued. Kind of like Frankie.

  "Well," she admitted, not daring to say more.

  Benny smiled. "I thought you might eventually. You have a knack for business and this business in particular." He leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. "I think you could be quite good at it."

  Mandy let out a breath of relief.

  "However," Benny said. "I am not ready to give up this place, as ramshackle as it is. It's what keeps me going. And this town ain't big enough for the both of us." He laughed.