Whiskey and Gumdrops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (6 page)

Frankie paused, glancing around her small living space as if he was expecting high-speed traffic to run him over if he stepped inside. Finally, he strode to the kitchen table and gripped the back of the chair as if it was a life raft and he was being tossed about in high seas. She stayed by the sink, waiting for him to speak.

"I think you should go ahead and open a restaurant and I think you should use my building to do it."

"Um." Mandy squinted at Frankie. "Okay?"

Various expressions flitted across Frankie's face and he shifted his weight to one side. "You do want to open your own place?" he asked, his voice short.

She shrugged. "It's an nice idea. But honestly?" She fidgeted with the smooth water glass, rubbing it against her palm. "I don't think I have what it takes."

Frankie sat in the chair, hands clasped. "Of course you do."

She shot him a skeptical look and frowned. "I don't have the money for that kind of a venture."

"Partner with someone."

She made a face and set down her glass.

"What? You have to be Miss Independent and Miss In Control and can't accept anything from others? Things that might be good for you? And them, too?"

She leaned back, raising her palms. "What the hell? All I'm saying is I don't think I have what it takes and a partner isn't going to suddenly make me magically delicious."

Frankie stood, his agitation returning. "Mandy, why can't you just..." He shook his hands as if he was trying to shake some sense into the air around him.

"Just what?" she asked, crossing her arms, the table between them. "Why can't I what?"

Frankie sat again, his body trembling with frustration. He took a deep breath, his body slowly stilling. In a low voice, he said, "Look. I know you worry about becoming a nothing in this town and never doing anything. Don't interrupt me."

"I wasn't going to." Okay, so her pants were totally on fire, but she hadn't even opened her mouth yet.

"And that you feel as though this town might not be enough." He met her eye and she sucked in a deep breath so she wouldn't be able to argue with him—so she would be forced to hear him out. "But I think you could do something here. Something big. You're great with the customers at Benny's. I hear about it all the time."

"Really?" A shot of pleasure surged through Mandy.

He kept his head low, his eyes on her, as though he was trying to calm a wild horse. "The stuff you don't know about business is stuff you could learn. I've seen you at Benny's. You've picked up at least three-quarters of what you didn't know. All you need is a little capital and somewhere to do this."

Mandy let out a half-snort, half-sigh and rolled her eyes. "Frankie..." There was so much more than those two massive things standing in her way.

"How much do you need?" He shifted as if he was going to pull his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Frankie you don't have that kind of cash. And anyway, I couldn't take it from you. I can't partner with a friend. And besides, we'd butt heads and it wouldn't work out and then our friendship would suffer. Nothing would ever be worth that. Not even to be a big fish in this stupid little backwater town." She pulled out a chair, placing it in front of her. "I'm not borrowing money from you."

"I didn't offer money. I'm offering my building."

"I'm not taking your inheritance!"

"I'm not giving it to you, you dolt." His eyes flashed with impatience. "Just use it. It's sitting there empty. I can't use it for my business so you should."

"I can't do that."

Frankie leaned forward, challenge lighting the amber flecks in his eyes. "Why can't you ever take anything I offer?"

"I—I—" Mandy fumbled through her mind, looking for something to pull into her side of the argument. "I took your help when I customized my truck."

Frankie snorted and leaned back, his arms crossed. "You paid for every little thing down to the fuses, Mandy."

"I—"

"You insisted you do favors for me as payback for my time. You always find ways to pay me back. Let me help you for once, Mandy. Without feeling like you have to pay me back. You keep saying I'm your best friend but there's no give and take with you, just give." Frankie stood, banging the table with his leg. "It's time for you to take. Like a real friend would."

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.