Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (5 page)

"Something smells like skunk," Dodger said, sniffing the air.

"It's Heart," Frankie muttered, head down, pen still moving over the paper.

"Poor fellah." Dodger reached under the table to pat Heart, but retracted his hand at the last second, as if he was about to be bitten.

"We need a secretary-treasurer," said Alex, shooting her a pleading look.

Mandy pushed her chair back. "What did I just say? Just because I have these—" she pointed to her chest "—it doesn't mean I'm secretary material."

The three men gave her puppy-dog looks and she struggled to not burst out laughing. She crossed her arms. "No. Way."

The men kept up the puppy eyes and she addressed Dodger. "Your wife is a secretary. Convince her to do it."

He sighed. "She's not interested."

"Mine neither," added Alex. "And you just said you'd be happy to help out."
 

"Did you even ask them?" she challenged.

"Don't gotta. Already know," said Alex, and Dodger nodded his agreement.

"Hmm." She shot Frankie a look. "What would I have to do to help out my best
friends
?"

Frankie finished writing and passed her his paper. Not a note. A list.

"That's what we need to do," he said.

She snorted as she skimmed it. "You guys need a mom, not a secretary-treasurer. "Here." She wrote her initials beside a few items on his list. "This is what I can help with."

Frankie peered at the list. "Accounting. Membership applications. Tickets. Prizes."

She sat back and smiled. All the stuff she knew would drive him batty.

See? You need me as your
friend
, Frankie. We're a good team.

"Would you really do all that?" he asked.

She smiled and batted her eyes and ended up knocking an eyelash into one eye, making it water and hurt. She rubbed it and pointed to a couple of things on the original list. "You might want a media manager for the posters, ads, website, and social media. That's a big job in itself."

"Wow. This is going to cost." Dodger shook his head in frustration. "We can't do it."

"What about maybe asking my brother to do the web work?" Mandy said. "Since his accident, he's been sitting there twiddling his thumbs. He could figure out a simple website and it'd be really great for him." Anything to get her brother up and going again instead of sitting around bemoaning the lack of mobility he had stuck in his wheelchair.

Alex gave her an uncertain look. "Um." He glanced at Frankie. "Does Ethan have experience?"

Mandy straightened her shirt and said, "Sure. He's done some web stuff." If they wanted something fancier than he knew how to create she was sure he'd have the time to figure it out before his next hope-against-all-hopes surgery to get him up and walking again.

"Would he do it for free?"

"I can ask," Mandy said with a shrug, finishing her beer.

Frankie tapped the paper. "You know, this show and shine and cruise night could be good for the whole town. Draw people from outside. So, okay, Mandy and I will take care of prizes and sponsorships. Dodger and Alex, you're on permits and location. We'll meet back in a few days to do more."

Mandy grabbed Frankie's beer and took a swig.

"You know I'm still sick, right?" Frankie asked, frowning at his beer.

She gave a little shrug. "Too late now." She took another swig and passed it back to Frankie. "You know, if you do it really well, word of mouth will have you doubling the attendance in no time. You'll be turning people away five years from now."

"Is that the plan for your restaurant?" Alex asked. "Word of mouth?"

She nearly choked. "My what? Where did you hear that?"

Frankie faced her, his brow furrowed. "I didn't know you were going to open your own place." His attention was so solely focused on her that she felt the need to shelter her face so he couldn't pick up every nuance and truth she could never seem to hide from him.

She lifted a shoulder dismissively. "It's nothing. Gloria misunderstood."
 

Frankie, his arm slung over his chair's back, eyes picking her apart, asked, "You really want to, don't you?"
 

Mandy cheeks heated and she looked at the ceiling as though it was the most interesting thing in the smoky room. Of course she'd like to. She'd like to be the one getting all the credit for putting smiles on people's faces. And yes, they smiled at her at Benny's, but at the door, it was her boss who got the two-handed hand squeeze, even though she was the one trying to ensure customers had a good experience. Sure, he paid the bills, but she was front-line. She was the one nagging the cooks to make sure the meals were at the right temperature. She was the one making sure the customers had the right drinks and got refills. She was the one who remembered what they liked and didn't like and recommended meals based on their tastes. She was the one who made sure they had friggin' sugar at their table for their friggin' coffees. She was the one who made the experience something to remember.
 

"You should do it," Frankie said with certainty.

Excitement and fear tore through her. It could be
her
getting the accolades from customers. And it would put a stop to those annoying looks of pity her peers shot her when she took their orders.

"You'd be good at it." Frankie gave a short nod and turned away, his attention back on his own project—as if he'd suddenly remembered the strange grudge between them.

She sighed. Why couldn't they just be happy and be friends?

"We're friends," she said.

"What?" Frankie narrowed an eye at her.

Oh, shoot. She'd said that out loud. "Oh, you know. Just saying to myself how nice it is to be working with friends on a fun project like this. Beats waitressing." She gave a little smile.

"Uh..." Alex gave the other two a glance, then turned his attention back to her and said, "You know you aren't getting paid for this, right?"

"Of course!" Her skin prickled with embarrassment. "I was just saying it's nice to have a project with friends. Not at all awkward."

The men exchanged looks.

"So?" Alex asked, clearing his throat. "Would you serve your brownies?"

"I don't see why not." She caught herself. Of course she wasn't starting her own business. What was she thinking? She didn't have nearly enough cash. Among several other things like a matching skillset. "I mean...I can't afford to do something like that." She snatched Frankie's beer and took a swig.

Alex looked over Mandy's uniform. "Annie says you must get decent pay 'cuz you dress fancy. Spent it all on clothes?" He took a swig of beer, watching Mandy over the bottle.

She straightened her shirt with pride before remembering it was just her yucky uniform. "Well, yeah. But to start a business...I mean, I don't even have a building. You know?"

"Frankie's got a place." Dodger leaned back in his chair so he could open the fridge and pass Mandy a fresh beer. He pointed his own bottle at Frankie. "Your grandpa left you that place on Main. Sitting empty." He turned to Mandy. "I bet if you asked nicely, Frankie would let you use it."

Mandy glanced at Frankie, who was staring stonily at Dodger.

"For a price, of course," Dodger added quickly. He laughed and nudged Mandy. "Or just sleep with him. Then he'll give you whatever you want!" He chortled. "Worked for Alex and his wife."

With Frankie suddenly resembling a stone statue, Mandy wanted to stand up and smack Dodger's head against something solid.

"I wouldn't want to enter into business with my best friend," she said. She reached over to try and pat Frankie's hand, which was clutched around his beer. She added softly, "Frankie's friendship means too much to me. I wouldn't do
any
thing to put it at risk."

"What do you think this is?" Alex gestured to the scattered papers on the table. "This is business," he said.

"This is play." Mandy tried to keep smiling and avoided looking at Frankie, who was still clutching his beer, not moving it toward his straight, thin, white lips.

"I would think being friends would help," Frankie said quietly. "You want someone who knows your strengths and weaknesses and can support you and bring out your best. You don't have to be independent all the time. Over the long haul, you'd have a greater likelihood of success if you let someone you trusted be by your side instead of some other Joe."

"What you're saying is probably true, Frankie," she said, her voice trembling a little. "But where would you be if it all went to hell and you lost your best friend?"
 

Dodger shifted in his seat, as if suddenly uncomfortable.

"But if they hadn't tried, they would never have known, now, would they?" Frankie leaned back, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his biceps bulging. A forehead vein expanded and contracted like a great flashing warning to Mandy that he was losing his cool and she should run for cover.

They stared at each other, neither budging. Silence expanded until it was strung through the kitchen like an overstretched rubber band.

Frankie would back down. He always did.

"Are we still talking about letting Mandy use Frankie's building?" Dodger asked in a cautious voice.

"Maybe we should go," Alex said gently, as if fearing he would wake something dangerous.

Mandy closed her eyes, wondering why it was her about to back down and not Frankie—and most of all, what it meant if she did. She flashed the group a light smile and said quickly, "No. Sorry. I can go." She stood and pushed in her chair.

"It's fine," Frankie said tightly, his mouth barely moving. "Stay."

"No, it's okay. I'll go."

"I said stay, dammit. Everything is
fine
."

She dropped into her chair, embarrassed that Frankie's friends didn't know where to look.

"It's fine," Frankie repeated. His cheeks were flushed, his hands scrunched into fists.

Right. Obviously it was far, far away from fine and would be for some time.

Chapter
4

Mandy shoved another fudge cookie in her mouth and clicked through pages and pages of information on restaurant franchises that were expanding. There were so many of them. How would she ever decide? She brushed cookie crumbs off the keyboard and pushed the laptop away. She didn't even know why she was looking at franchises. Just because Frankie thought she could manage something like this didn't mean she had the skills to or could afford it. Some of them demanded an applicant's net worth to be so friggin' huge that if she had that kind of money, she wouldn't be opening a restaurant—she'd be sitting on a beach in Mexico sipping whiskey and Coke. Every day. For the rest of her life.

She walked to the bay window overlooking Main Street below. She craned her neck to snag a peek at Benny's. Through the budding trees, she couldn't make out much, but she still half expected to see Benny marching up the street to demand she explain what all these restaurant rumors were about.

Portia, her half Persian kitty, rubbed against her, determined to leave as much gray fur on Mandy's navy uniform as possible. Mandy went back to the kitchen table and clicked on a listing for a wraps franchise and skimmed the blurb and the requirements. Wrap it Up had possibilities. If only. If, if, if.

She glanced at the Chevy clock Frankie had given her as a Chevy vs. Ford joke and sat again. She could safely look around online, daydreaming about owning her own restaurant, for at least another hour and a half before her shift. Then she'd go in and face the music with Benny about the rumors of her starting her own place.

Portia, suddenly on a mission, trotted to the couch below the bay window, and in a series of short hops, landed on the windowsill, where she began rubbing the glass with the top of her head. In her happy kitty ecstasy, she pushed herself forward, knocking herself off the ledge. Mandy laughed as Portia strutted away, head held high, nose pointed upward, and that gargantuan tail definitely giving Mandy the finger.

Mandy closed her laptop and crossed the room when Portia returned to the windowsill to scan the street. This kind of behavior usually meant Frankie was out there. Portia, despite her typical haughtiness, had a thing for Frankie, even though the puss did her best not to let it show around him.

Mandy leaned closer to the glass in order to peer at the sidewalk below. There, amongst the elms, was Frankie, pacing back and forth, gesturing as though he was trying to convince an invisible friend of something important. Intrigued, Mandy perched on the back of the sofa and watched. Back and forth he went, hands gesturing every so often.

A tiny hope in the back of her mind wondered if it was about her. But at the same time, another hope wished it wasn't. While the thought of Frankie being worked up about them was terrifyingly exciting and made her feel important and needed—and quite frankly, that sort of feeling shot by about as often as Haley's Comet when it came to guys, these days—the thought also made her cringe. She needed Frankie long-term, not for some romantic fling.

Mary Alice passed Frankie and glanced up at Mandy's window, shooting her a wink.

Shit.

Mandy dropped out of sight before Frankie had a chance to follow Mary Alice's gaze.

She duck-walked across the open room, staying low and out of sight.

Whatever should she do next week to stay on top of the local gossip list? This week, there'd been the plethora of sick days following Oz's wedding noticed, then the rumor of her opening her own place, and now she was spying on Frankie....

She busied herself tidying up her small apartment while she waited for him to knock. A minute later, she was rewarded with his rat-a-tap-tap on the door at the door at the top of the steps. She opened the door and Portia strutted straight to Frankie, wrapping her tail around his leg before stalking off so he couldn't reach down to give her cuddles. Same as always.

"Women," Frankie grumbled as he straightened up.

"Hey," Mandy said, heading to the fridge. "Want something to drink?"

Frankie shook his head, remaining in the doorway.

"Well? Did you want to come in?" She gave a short laugh that sounded nervous to her ears. Her gaze flicked to his perfect lips and in her mind, she relived that amazing kiss they'd shared in his garage. She shook off the moment and headed through the open living area to the kitchenette, distracting herself with a glass of water.