Fender Bender Blues (7 page)

The pretty, slim brunette assured Mrs. Mulberry the copies would be finished, for free, in less than twenty minutes.

“It had better be,” Mrs. Mulberry warned and stormed out.

All eyes turned to Rach.

“I am so sorry,” she apologized and swung her purse over her shoulder. “This was all my fault. I feel horrible about it. I’m just going to go now—I don’t think I’m a good fit for this business. Thank you so, so much for giving me a chance, though.” She walked quickly to the door before she changed her mind. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else who doesn’t cause so much…trouble. Feel free to stick my check in the mail.”

Rach snuck a wink at William before slipping on her sunglasses. The attention perked him up a bit, making her feel a little better for the stress she’d caused him. His parents didn’t try and stop her—not a big surprise after the scene with Mrs. Mulberry.

William raised his hand in a weak wave and she gave him one last smile then bolted. Rach hit the first gas station on the way home. With a cherry slushy in hand, she considered her situation. She wasn’t bitter, but elated. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with another customer like Mrs. Mulberry.

What she needed now was to move on to something her mom could brag about. Rach needed a challenge and not of the copy machine sort. At one time in her life, that something had been social work.

Sitting in the gas station parking lot, the memory of the day Health and Human Services called to offer her the job came flooding back. The celebration had been a pan of her mom’s lasagna, homemade garlic bread and a German chocolate cake with coconut frosting. After years of college and studying her butt off, Rach’s goal had been achieved.

And she’d been good at it. One mistake—did she need to torture herself because of it? Was it possible the real mistake had been in quitting social work?

Rach shook her head. After coming-to in an ambulance with the memory of two frightened children cowering in a corner of the room, the decision to leave had come easy enough. If those children had been hurt worse than the bruises on their faces...

No, she wasn’t ready to return. Maybe she never would be. She still had two months before her leave of absence was over. For right now, she needed to find out if there was something else out there.

She reached for the newspaper on the chair beside her and shuffled through the pages for the classifieds. Keeping an eye on the clock so she wouldn’t be late for the meatloaf and action movie marathon at her parents’ house, Rach searched for a new job.

Chapter Eight

The next week Rach spent her time scanning classifieds, calling every staffing agency in a hundred mile radius, and crossing her fingers that something amazing would fall out of the sky and make her dreams come true.

Nothing ever did.

Having just left another unsuccessful interview for a position she had no experience in and a job offer she wouldn’t dare hold her breath for, she was all dressed up with nowhere to work. So at Leah’s urgent request, Rach was on her way to The Martini Bar where she hoped to drown her working-man blues—or rather, non-working-man blues—in an extra dirty martini. Or two or three...

Every night that week Leah had been on a date with Rick, and though Rach was happy for her, she also missed her friend. When Leah did call, the conversation was Rick this and Rick that and their promising future—
blah, blah, blah
.

Duran Duran’s “Hungry like the Wolf
”
played softly on the speakers and the hum of conversation and laughter filled the two-story brownstone. Soft, yellow light from wall sconces cast shadows, creating privacy for tables and booths made of scarred wood. A spiral staircase of black iron in the corner made its way to the second floor, which was narrow and crawled around three walls of the room, wide enough for booths and space for waitresses to deliver drinks and food. Black iron railing provided a barrier of safety and a view of the first floor below.

Leah sat tucked into Rick’s side at a round table at the back of the first floor, their chairs pulled snug together. Her gaze was captivated by Rick and whatever he was saying, completely oblivious to the world around her. Rach considered gagging to get her attention.

Love existed and she believed in it. While growing up, it had thrived between her parents, and their marriage of twenty-nine years was still going strong. Mostly it was the green-eyed monster causing her resentment for anything kissy. With all the chaos in her life, she didn’t care to put any effort into finding a relationship. The possibility of a crappy relationship at this juncture in her life would not bolster her ego.

Rach waved over a waitress and ordered a martini then turned back to the couple at the table. Dropping her purse into an empty chair, she sat down across from them and said, “Four dates in a row, huh?”

Leah beamed at her from across the table. “Rach, this is Rick Larsen. Rick, this is my best friend, Rachel Bennett.”

The man was clearly smitten with her best friend. It was written all over his face and defined by the puppy dog eyes and wide grin. She smiled at him, relieved the attraction wasn’t one-sided. “It’s nice to meet you again.”

“You, too. I’ve heard so much about you,” he answered with an easy smile, squeezing Leah in closer to his side. Any closer and she’d be on his lap. He reached out to shake Rach’s hand with his free one.

“I’ve met you already, remember? My first vision of you was of your tongue down Leah’s throat,” Rach teased.

He blushed and Leah said, “Oh, stop.”

“Okay, okay, but I’ve been dying to say that for a week now,” Rach laughed. The waitress returned with her drink and Rach picked it up to take a sip. Extra dirty, extra olives, perfect. She smiled and sat back in her chair, feeling better than she had all week. At least she was out of the house. She turned to Rick and said, “I’m really glad you don’t pick your nose, and Leah says you’re not a dumbass.”

Rick chuckled and leaned down to kiss Leah on the forehead. She was tiny next to him—he was as tall as his brother, but less thick with muscle. “I try not to be—a dumbass, that is. I’m not saying I never am, though.”

Rach eyed him thoughtfully and nodded. “Well, you must be all right. If you were a cheese ball bachelor you wouldn’t have admitted something like that. How long have you been a realtor?”

“About seven years. My uncle was in the business so I had a good mentor getting started. I enjoy it.” He smiled at Rach, but his eyes were for Leah as his hand idly rubbed her arm. .

“So seven years, and I assume college…that puts you about our age, then?” Rach asked.

Leah perked up. “That’s why he looked familiar. He was a grade ahead of us and went to the high school on the north side of town. We started talking about high school and we even know some of the same people. We must have seen each other back then. It’s so amazing we recognized each other after all these years!”

“That’s great.” Rach smiled and swirled her olive spear around in the martini. She patted Rick on the hand he rested on the table next to his drink and said, “I’m happy for you both.”

And she was. Leah had never been so taken with any of the guys she’d dated in the past. But tonight, Rach was a third wheel. It didn’t happen often because in the past, relationships for Rach and Leah didn’t last long. And usually any relationship they’d been in they’d still made time for girls’ nights. The difference with this new relationship was evident.

“So what’s your brother do?” she asked, thinking about the college-in-pajamas option.

“Sells cars,” Rick answered, distracted by a piece of Leah’s hair which he swept behind her ear. Rach tilted her head. Car salesman? Selling cars and he could afford a big house in a new subdivision? She’d expected him to be the president of a bank or maybe a franchise owner, not a shady car salesman. She sniffed and turned to hail the waitress.

Her eyes were met with the breathtaking sight of a pair of slacks hugging a very nice butt. She followed the muscles under a form fitting collared shirt, all the way up to broad shoulders and thick neck of an athlete. The man turned and her eyes hovered for a moment on a full-lipped smile. Too bad Angry Hot Guy was the owner of the hot butt and sexy smile.

Slithering toward him was a gorgeous brunette in dangerously high heels, wearing an expensive gray dress belted at the waist. She draped her curvaceous body against the much longer length of Craig’s in a hug too intimate for public. His large arms wrapped around the woman’s slim body in an easy hug.

Rach groaned and hunched low over the table to hiss at Leah, “You invited the enemy?”

Leah giggled and rolled her eyes. “You are so silly sometimes. He’s not the enemy, he’s Rick’s brother.”

“Depends on one’s perspective,” Rach muttered, crossing stubborn arms over her chest. Leah ignored her moody frown. “I can’t believe you invited him. Because of him I’m driving a car that sounds like a freight train.”

Rick gazed over her head, his lips tugged up at the corners. “Funny, I’m pretty sure he’s thinking the same thing right now.”

Even with drawn brows and disgruntled expression he was attractive. The fact did not improve her mood. It was too bad the woman hadn’t taken him to the opposite side of the room.

Without a greeting, he sat down in the only empty chair at the table which happened to be the resting place for her purse. She snatched it out from under him just in time and clutched it to her lap.

He ignored her get-lost glare and turned a slow, sexy smile on Leah. “Hey, pretty lady.”

Rach snickered. “What cheesy movie did you steal that line from?”

Craig’s smile faltered and it was his turn to shower her with a get-lost glare.

Rick burst out laughing and Craig turned his back on the table. That was fine with her, two could play at that game and she turned around to look for the waitress again. She was going to need a lot more liquor.

She caught the waitress’s attention by waving her empty glass in the air and whistling through her fingers.

“Classy.” Craig shook his head like he might at a misbehaving two-year-old. She didn’t understand what it was about him that brought out the brat in her. She almost crossed her eyes at him.
You are being ridiculous. Get it together, Bennett.

By the waitress’s tight expression, she also shared Craig’s sentiment. She might have gone the other direction, but after spotting the good-looking guy at the table, she slithered right up, oozing sex as she hadn’t been moments before.

In a throaty attempt at sultry—Rach thought she sounded like a croaking frog—the waitress purred, “What can I get for you, Sugar?”

Sugar?
Had she been transported straight into an old soap opera? Before Craig could answer, Rach cut in and said, “Can you bring a bowl of popcorn, please? And another one of these.” She waved her empty glass in the air and handed the waitress a ten dollar bill.

Since she’d quit smoking, Rach found that while in a bar she needed something else to do with her hands besides drink to compensate for the loss of a cigarette between her fingers. She was extremely proud of herself for kicking a habit she’d had for five years.

The decision to quit had been loosely tied around the fact that if she was diagnosed with cancer without the benefit of medical insurance she’d be screwed in an expensive way. It’d been a great excuse to quit, though not without difficulty; fighting the urge to pull into the nearest gas station and buy a pack of cigarettes when the stress of flitting from job to job became too much.

At the moment, though, she longed for a smoke. A nice deep, satisfying drag would’ve helped kill the edge she’d gotten from sitting at a table with a jerk in expensive shoes, two lovebirds slobbering all over each other and a waitress who could barely keep her panties on.

Beside the table was a group of five girls, all of whom had a pack of cigarettes resting beside their cell phones on the table. She considered leaning over and trading one for a dollar bill. It was tempting…

Rach straightened up in her chair, determined to master the evening. No way would she let him get under skin. She had a niggling feeling he’d made it his mission to annoy the hell out of her and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

For the third time Craig used the word “honey.” The gagging noise escaped her mouth before she could bite it back. So much for not letting him under her skin. Rach sighed and gave a small shrug at the three sets of eyes at the table staring at her.

“Most women find those kind of titles antiquated,” Rach said in way of explanation.

“I think it’s charming,” the waitress sighed, leaning in to let her hair tickle Craig’s shoulder and he gave Rach a triumphant grin. She rolled her eyes and pretended great interest in her purse strap. It’d been months since she’d bought a new one. If she ever found a job in the near future that lasted longer than a day she’d treat herself to a new purse.

The waitress strode away with a ridiculous sway to her hips with Craig and a few other men in the room as her audience. Rach studied the woman closer than she had the first time. Young and tall with well-sculpted legs, her only blemish being bleached blonde hair—and she had big boobs. Rach looked down at her own A cups in the Victoria’s Secret pushup bra, giving her a little cleavage in the gray, wide strapped tank top she wore. Unimpressive in comparison.

She turned back to Craig in the middle of asking Rick about work, and interrupted, “I’m sure boobs for brains thinks every guy is charming.”