Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (25 page)

"Heart, stay!" Blowtorch commanded, tugging on the dog's collar when he tried to follow. "He shouldn't hassle customers."

Mandy clenched her fists to keep from making a scene and forced herself to keep moving toward the back room, leaving the dog behind.

Rounding the corner to the room, she found Frankie hunched over a box of brake pads. As she drew near, she had to fight the temptation to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Everything about him was so familiar: the grit under his nails, the furrow between his brows and even the way his eyes lit up as he recognized her. Well, for the split second before caution swept it away and he crossed his arms and leaned back, blocking out all hope.

"Hi."

"Hey." Frankie scratched his forehead with a thumb.

"Um." Mandy fidgeted with her necklace, feeling as nervous as if it was the first time she was talking to someone she'd had the hots for. "You looked good on TV. And the car turned out well?"

"Yeah, real nice."

"You must be insanely busy with new jobs."

Frankie's eyes glowed with pride, but he shrugged modestly. "A few. But the show hasn't aired yet, so..." He shrugged again.

"That's good. Maybe you could do restoration and custom mods full time now?"

He turned away, placing the box on a shelf, straightening a few others as he worked his way down the row of returns. "What did you need?"

 
She clutched the wrapped, flat box with both hands and came around to where he was and held out the gift. "Happy birthday."

He hesitated for a second before meeting her eyes and accepting the package. "Thanks." He hefted the gift, contemplating it.

"Open it."

He looked at her and swallowed, almost as if he was considering something. "Right," he said softly and tore the paper off in one gentle swoop. She'd never been with him on Christmas day but she was pretty sure he surpassed all gift-opening records with his casual, efficient moves. She bet his mom used extra tape to foil him. And ribbon. Lots and lots of heavily knotted ribbon.

He held out the small picture frame, assessing it. She held her breath as he looked over the uncut sheet of stamps bearing iconic muscle cars. The stamps hadn't cost much, but figuring out how to mat and frame them in a professional way had. She hoped he understood that she'd thought of him and that he saw beyond the few dollars the gift had cost her.

Frankie gave her a quick, one-armed hug and said lightly, "Thanks. You always remember." He shook his head, looking pleased. "I'm going to hang this in my shop." He looked at it again, holding it out with both hands. "No, in my house." He gave her a crooked smile and the worry Mandy had been carrying eased.

They were friends. Maybe not more, but she still had a friend.

"Remember what?" asked a quiet voice that made Mandy start. She turned to find Blowtorch looking at her as if she'd just witnessed her boyfriend making out with another woman. Not Frankie sharing a half hug with his longtime best friend over a gift.

Which meant Blowtorch was going to end their friendship or at least, severely cripple it.

And she didn't like it. Not one bit.

She turned to Blowtorch, making herself play nice. "His birthday. I remembered his birthday."

Blowtorch shot Frankie a surprised look and Mandy felt a jolt of renewed life. "It's today," she added helpfully.

"Oh." Blowtorch seemed to shrink slightly and Mandy felt a pang of remorse. She knew how it felt to be the one on the outside. To be the girl who wasn't quite as close and important to the man in her life as she had hoped or been led to believe. And how much it sucked to be shown that in front of others.

"Don't worry," Mandy said lightly. "He's never made a big deal about it. He's weird that way." She gave Blowtorch an understanding smile, and moved to the door and turned to Frankie. "Are you doing anything special?"

He'd always made sure he was single for his birthday, as he hated the hoopla as well as the obligatory return fuss over the girlfriend's 'big day.' So it wasn't so hard to believe he wouldn't have told a new girlfriend it was his birthday. But still...did he have to fall for her so damned fast?

"You know. The usual. Supper with my parents."

She shot a glance at Blowtorch, who was standing with her legs apart, as though she was preparing to wrestle a greased pig to the ground. The girl might have a slight build, but Mandy had no doubt the girl could use physics to her advantage.

Mandy forced a smile and a light voice. "Great. Have a good birthday."

She shook her head at her lousy timing as she walked out. Why was she ready to say yes to Frankie
now
? Why couldn't it have been a few months ago? And how had things flipped so quickly?

She wished she could get in a time machine and give her old self a severe shake. It must have just about killed Frankie being on this end of things for so many years because it sucked. Sucked
hard
.

She froze as Frankie called after her, "Talk to your brother." Frankie leaned out the back room. "He's been a real ass since you let him go. Nobody's been able to hold him. You're the only one, Mandy." He repeated, his voice soft, "You're the one."

She lowered her head and sighed. She'd wanted to hear those words so badly but in a different context. Raising her head, she nodded and left the store. It was time for the grand gesture, no matter the consequences. If she wanted his love, she was going to have to show him in a way he'd understand exactly how serious she was about the two of them being together.

* * *

Mandy pasted a smile on her face and tried not to sweat or look guilty as she stopped in front of the hardware store. Her movements felt about as natural as the Tinman from
The Wizard of Oz
.

Her plan was only a little bit illegal and nothing would probably even happen if she got caught. Straightening, she entered the hardware store and marched to the paint section. A girl could buy paint—especially a business-owning (well, sorta) gal such as herself—without it being an indicator of some evil plan about to be hatched. Right?

She nodded to herself and carried on.

She grabbed the closest spray can of paint and turned to go pay for it.

Halfway to the register, she paused. How much did a can cover? She checked the can's back. Square footage certainly wasn't helpful. She had no idea how much area she would be covering. She'd better get two cans, just in case. She pivoted on her heel to double back to the shelf and nearly smacked into her mother. Immediately, her face flushed and she hid the can behind her back before mentally taking the boots to herself for acting like an idiot.

"Mandy," her mother said quietly. "What have you got there?"

"A...a..." She pulled the can around in front of her and tried to act sheepish. "A surprise."

Her mom raised her eyebrows. "Oh!" She clasped her hands together after a second. "Are you going to fix my car?"

Mandy gave her mother a look. Of course she wasn't going to fix her red fender with spray paint that was—she checked the can—pink. She smiled and gave her mom a quick hug. "Happy Mother's Day."

"You've got the wrong color and Mother's Day was months ago." Her mom flicked her nails along the various spray cans until she got close to her Impala's color. "How do we tell if it's a match?"

Mandy put the cans back on the shelf and sighed. "You know what? I should talk to Frankie about this."

"Good idea. He's such a smart boy about these things. He was on television and everything."

"Uh, assuming he has the time," Mandy said, shuffling her feet. "He has to go back soon."

Her mother patted Mandy's hand and gave her head a little shake. "You know what?"

"What?" Mandy asked, her eyes on the paint behind her mother. She needed paint. Without paint, there was no plan. No Frankie.

"You take after my mother. Everyone says you take after me, but that's just our hair. You're so much stronger. You aren't afraid to speak up and get what you want." She gave Mandy's hand a squeeze, looking at her with something Mandy hadn't seen before: pride. "So
strong
," her mother said. "And bold like I never was. My word." She gave a light laugh of astonishment, as if she couldn't quite believe Mandy was her progeny. "You astound me. Just look at you. All grown up and independent and making your place in the world." She held Mandy's hands out at her sides as if they were about to engage in a round of Ring Around the Rosie and looked Mandy up and down. "Always so immaculately dressed. You are so much more than a small town girl. I'm so proud of you, finally seeing that in yourself and making your world open up in front of you."

Mandy stared before managing to say, "Thanks."

"I've never wanted to interfere, Mandy. You get that enough from your father's wife..." Her mother lowered her voice and glanced around, checking for eavesdroppers. She stepped closer to Mandy, which would surely only encourage the eavesdroppers. "Now, what are you going to do about Frankie?"

"What do you mean?" Mandy asked, leaning in closer, despite herself.

"You two would be good together. Terrific, even!" her mom exclaimed, tossing her hands in the air. "You two need to get over whatever it is you need to get over and—"

Mandy put out a hand to stop her mother from continuing. She shook her head.

"Oh." Her mother nodded slowly. "I see."

Mandy crossed her arms and watched the sunlight stream in the store's front door, clearly a sign that she should step toward the light—and away from this conversation.

Her mother placed two cans of black spray paint in Mandy's hands. "Now, go buy your paint." She turned and trundled down the aisle, trilling a hello to someone in the electrical aisle. Mandy stared at the cans of paint, mouth open.

So much for being stealthy.

At the cash register, Trey checked the labels and frowned. "What do you need spray paint for? Hasn't all the painting been done by those city folks?"

Mandy tried to focus on his lips. Maybe she'd understand what he was saying if she could read his lips.

"Your restaurant? Whatcha painting?" He took her money, flipping the bills over and lining them up so they all faced the same way.

"Oh!" She drew in a quick breath, twigging on. "Right! Um, just some projects." She shot him a wink, trying to distract him, but found she just couldn't do it. That Mandy was gone.

"I see." He shot her a grin, his crooked front tooth jumping out at her. "Oh, I forgot to ask. You wanna buy an M?"

"An M?" What the hell was this? Wheel of Fortune?

"Yeah. Oh." He froze, staring at her as though he'd just told the guest of honor about her surprise party.

"What are they for?"

"Well," Trey shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks pink. "Not sure I was supposed to tell you, but I guess maybe you know? M? For Mandy?"

She shot him an uncomprehending look.

"For your restaurant. You need money, right?"

She nodded slowly, feeling self-conscious and failure-ific.

"So like, everyone's raising money for you. You buy an M." He held up a bright pink paper M from a stack behind the register. "We're seeing how many
M
s we can add to 'Mandy's.' "

"What?" She gave an amused laugh.

He gave her a look that was an awful lot like the one she'd shot him a moment ago. "Didn't you see it in the window?"

She turned to the big windows facing the street. "Oh. My. God." They were everywhere. Bright
M
s of a zillion different colors raced in a line across the window, making it say
MMMMMMMMMMandy's
. She stepped closer to the window. All the shops on Main—except hers—had these bright and colorful lines of
M
s. She blinked back tears.

"A dollar an
M
. It's so those who don't want to spend twenty-five bucks can still show their support. Once we get twenty-five
M
s, we buy one of those micro loan things. And when you pay it back we're gonna put the money toward a new roof for the arena. We started this morning. But others started yesterday. We're trying to get your website's thermometer to move faster. You're running out of time, you know."

She nodded absently and turned to the window again. All these
M
s in less than 48 hours? Holy shit.
Holy
. Shit. Blueberry Springs.

She needed to sit down. She needed to freak out. She needed to cry. She needed to laugh. She needed to hug everyone she saw.

She flung herself onto Trey and gave him a tight squeeze.

"I bought ten," he said in a squeezed out voice. "I can buy more if you want. It's my comic book money, but I have lots of comics already."

"I love you, Trey!"

"I thought you loved Frankie?" he said

"Him, too, Trey. Him, too."

Chapter
19

Gripping the cold metal hand rails, a can of spray paint tucked down the back of her turtleneck, Mandy crept up the ladder and into the night. Part way up, she had to pause to catch her breath and allow the dizziness to wane. Thank goodness it was dark enough that she couldn't see the full depth of her stupidity, nor the full height of the water tower.

She began climbing again, letting out a crazed laugh. How on earth was she going to open a restaurant from jail? Because surely that's where she'd be when she got smacked with a fine she wouldn't be able to pay. Her steps faltered for a second. She should climb back down, save Frankie's building and then worry about making a gesture he'd understand—a gesture that would speak to the daredevil inside him.

But her feet began climbing again. She couldn't wait. She needed to make the gesture now. Before Blowtorch got into Frankie any deeper than she already was. She reached the top of the ladder, her arms shaking with adrenalin. On the narrow walkway that went around half of the tower's tank, she backed herself against its wall, palms against the freezing metal for support. The slim railing that would fail to pass today's safety laws had failed to keep Frankie from falling; how would it save her if she needed it to? Careful not to look down, she sidestepped into the brisk wind that whipped around the curve of the tower as fear scraped at her. The wind pushed the clouds away from its cover over the moon and it shone down on her, lighting her way as she eased toward the faded black M-A-N Frankie had sprayed on the light blue tower.