Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,1

news – and not whatever he was hearing now. From the look on his face, you'd almost think he'd just tested positive for one heck of a social disease.

My frown turned into a grimace as I recalled who I was watching. Chase Blastoviak was a notorious womanizer. Cripes, maybe he had tested positive for something-or-other.

But I couldn't let that stop me.

He was here.

I was here.

And odds were, I'd never get such a chance again – so before my courage slipped away, I sidestepped the counter and scurried toward the entrance, intending to pounce the moment he got off the phone.

In what had to be a sign, he ended the call just as I reached the glass door. Without pausing to gather my wits, I yanked the door open wide and blurted out, "Hey, can I buy you a coffee?"

He turned to look, and his mouth tightened. "No thanks."


And of course, I felt beyond foolish. Still, I dug deep and summoned up a friendly smile. "Then how about a mocha? Or maybe a smoothie. Everyone likes smoothies, right?"

It was late March, and although the sky was sunny, the air was crisp and cold. Still, I held the door firmly open as Chase Blastoviak silently appraised me like a farmer sizing up a prized hog.

As he did, I almost started to squirm because even I realized that I didn't look my best. My blonde hair was tied into a tight ponytail, and my red apron was marred by a long streak of brown – not coffee, but chocolate from a wayward squirt of mocha sauce.

When he finished his appraisal, all he said was, "Sorry, I'm not interested."

I blinked. "You mean, you're not interested in a smoothie, or—"

He sighed. "Look, I don't want to fuck you, okay?"

I stifled a gasp. "What?"

"You heard me."

Yes. I had. And I didn't appreciate it one bit. Coldly, I informed him, "That's not what I was offering."

His gaze was too jaded for words. "Wasn't it?"

My jaw clenched. What a total jackass.

"No," I gritted out. "As a matter of fact, it wasn't." I put my hands on my hips, and immediately regretted it when the door – now free of my grip – whacked me in the ass.

Ignoring this indignity, I focused on the larger issue at-hand. As I glared up at him, I demanded, "And just where you do you get off, anyway?"

With a low scoff, he replied, "Well, not at your place, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, for God's sake," I said. "I wasn't trying to get into your pants. I was trying to talk to you."

"Is that so?"

My chin jerked upward. "Yes, actually."

From the look on his face, he didn't believe this for one minute. "Oh yeah? About what?"

"Well, actually…" Damn it. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Still, I took a deep, calming breath, summoned up my best professional smile, and just said it. "I was hoping you could sponsor the Hazelton Tomato Festival."

Chapter 3


What the hell?

I stared down at her. "What?"

"The Hazelton Tomato Festival," she said. "We need a major sponsor, and um, well, I was thinking that since you're a local company…" She didn't bother finishing the sentence. I knew why, too.

She was full of it.

They all were.

During the past few years, I'd heard it all. At first, it had been funny as hell. I'd had plenty of laughs – and more – as I'd taken far too much of what was offered. But now, like a glutton who'd been camped out for too long at the same buffet, I was bored and sickened by the whole scene.

It was a damn shame, too, since the pretty blonde in front of me might've been just the thing back in the day – or hell, even a couple of months ago, when I was still hungry.

But now, all I felt was disgust, especially after that voicemail from Angelique. But that was a problem for another time, when I wasn't being pestered by someone new.

To the blonde in the coffee shop doorway, I said, "The festival's four months away."

"Yeah, so?"

"So I know the drill," I said. "A major sponsor, right?"

She straightened. "That is what I said."

"Right. Except those are lined up a year in advance."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, how would you know?"

"Because this isn't my first barbecue."

Sure, it was a cliché, but that didn't make it untrue. I oversaw all of the publicity for Blast Tools. It was a multi-billion-dollar company with an advertising budget to match.

This meant I knew exactly how much planning