Desperate Chances (27 page)

“Oh, hey, Sophie,” I mumbled, hoping I could scurry down the aisle and away from this giant pile of discomfort.

Sophie didn’t even bother to smile in acknowledgment. She took the pack of Twizzlers that I was holding out and dropped it unceremoniously into the basket.

“Hi, Gracie.” She said my name like it was a bad word. Her mouth curled and her nose wrinkled up like I smelled bad. Had my deodorant stopped working?

“Those must be for Mitch. Unless you have an unhealthy obsession with them too.” I tried laughing. It sounded all wrong in my mouth.

“Yes, they’re for Mitch.” She said his name with a territorial edge.
Mitch. Her
Mitch.

“He’ll appreciate that. He could eat them for three meals a day.” Why was I still standing there talking about Mitch and his love of chewy candy to his less than amenable girlfriend? Especially after our phone call last night. And every intense, consuming encounter that we had shared before that. I should feel shame for lusting after her man. I should feel guilt for loving the person that she claimed as her own.

But I didn’t.

Because in my heart of hearts he belonged to
me.

And he always would.

“Thank you for informing me, with all your infinite wisdom, about the things Mitch likes. I sure do appreciate it,” Sophie remarked snidely.

Okay, then.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your shopping. It was nice seeing you,” I lied. I would rather have had a root canal, but no sense in being a total bitch.

“Gracie, was he talking to you on the phone last night?” she asked before I could make my escape.

Why would it matter if he were talking to me?

I looked into Sophie’s narrowed eyes and we both knew that it
did
matter.

It mattered a lot.

“Yes. We were talking last night. But it’s not what you think—”

Sophie held up her hand and shut me up like a freaking schoolteacher. “You don’t know
what
I think, so don’t claim to.”

“I was just saying—”

And she interrupted me
again!

I clenched my hands into fists and tried to resist the urge to connect it with her cutesy pie face.

“I don’t get it,” she said, her words like acid.

“Don’t get what?” I was going to be late for my meeting. I should tell this chick to hush it and to talk to Mitch if she wanted to know something. But she just. Kept. Talking.

“Why he loved you so much. There’s nothing much to you.” She sniffed again, looking confused but disgusted.

“Wow. Tell me what you really think,” I muttered.

“He was a mess after you left him. Did you know that?” she demanded, glaring at me with a heart full of hate. Man, this woman really didn’t like me. Not that I blamed her.

“I don’t see how this is any of your business. And I have to go. I’d love to stand here and chat about shit that doesn’t have to do with you, but I have places to be,” I replied flippantly, waving my hand in dismissal. I turned on my heel and started to walk away, proud of my super awesome exit when she stopped me again.

“Just leave him alone. He’s better off without you.”

Her words hit me right where it hurt. In the heart. Because they were the exact words I had told myself over and over again a million times before .

He’s better off without you.

I straightened my back and looked over my shoulder, flipping my hair behind me. I smirked; refusing to let her see how much she had gotten to me.

I may have believed those words at one time, but I was learning that I wasn’t that girl who had walked out on the man who loved her because she was desperate to self-destruct. I was re-building myself. My pride. My self-respect.

So I didn’t believe that anymore. I wouldn’t allow myself to.

I didn’t know where that left Mitch and me, or if it even mattered at this point. But I wouldn’t let this woman look down her nose at me.

I didn’t cower to anyone. Ever.

“Then maybe you should keep a better leash on your boyfriend.” I turned and walked off, my nerves stretched thin and my knees starting to shake.

I wanted to collapse, but I didn’t.

Those days were over.

Watch out world, the new Gracie Cook was here to stay.

J
ust great.

I had left my camera at home.

Damn it, where was my notebook and super professional looking pen?

Clearly not in my bag.

I looked around the library parking lot, trying to locate my car. And then I realized it wasn’t here. I had dropped it off at Bo’s auto repair this morning to have the tires replaced after listening to one too many comments about my car’s general state of disrepair. Now I was going to be $800 poorer, but at least I was handling it on my own instead of calling someone to take care of it for me.

And that was Gracie Cook’s idea of success.

But now I was sans car and I had to be at the Blue Ridge Botanical Gardens in twenty minutes for my first interview as a full-fledged staff writer for Southern Gardens magazine.

I was off to a hell of a start it seemed.

“Ugh!” I growled under my breath.

“Uh oh. You’ve got that Gene Wilder in Young Frankenstein mad scientist look going on. That’s a sure sign of trouble. What did you forget at home this time?”

I watched as Mitch walked through the parking lot looking like walking, talking awesome. His hair had recently been cut and curled around his ears. He was wearing a faded green bomber jacket with old military patches on the sleeves that I had always loved. He must be going for the I-didn’t-feel-like-shaving-this-morning look because he had a day’s growth on his face that really worked for him. My stomach did a few flip-flops just to make sure I was paying attention.

“What makes you think I forgot something at home?” I put a hand on my hip and tried to be sassy. Like I would have been before I had lost my damn mind over this man.

“I’ve seen that expression enough times to know you’ve either a. left your phone somewhere. B. Forgotten your wallet. Or c. remembered you left the coffee machine on and are freaking out that the apartment is going to burn down.”

Damn, he really did know me so well.

I dropped my hand and I lightly slapped my thigh. “Well hot damn, you’ve got me.” Mitch chuckled and I liked how easy it sounded. “Actually I’m supposed to be on my way to the botanical gardens in Littlewood and I forgot my camera. And my notebook. And my car…”

Mitch’s eyes twinkled in bemusement “How the hell did you forget your car? Did you teleport here or something? Oh man, did you figure out the whole space-time continuum thing? Because if so, you need to share.”

“Ha, ha, smart ass. Vivian dropped me off at the library this morning because my car is in the shop. I wasn’t thinking about that when I scheduled the interview for my feature. I guess I was just super excited to set up everything. This is my first full length feature as a staff writer and I wanted to do things right.” I looked at my watch and realized I was screwed. “But it seems I jumped the gun a bit and now I’m going to have to reschedule the interview. Which makes me look like a total amateur,” I grumbled. I pulled out my phone and was starting to dial the number to the gardens when Mitch spoke up.

“Well, hang on a minute. I don’t have anything going on today, how about I drive you out to Littlewood?”

“What?” I asked in shock. Was he really suggesting we spend time together? Had he hit his head and been rendered temporarily insane?

Mitch shrugged. “It’s no big deal. You’re without a car. I have one in perfect working order, just over there. We can’t have you looking like an amateur, now can we?”

Was he teasing me? It had been so long since he had I was pretty sure I had forgotten what it sounded and looked like.

“Is that such a good idea?” I had to ask it. I had been told to stay away from him. And even though I had no intention of letting Sophie Lanier boss me around, she was still his girlfriend and it had to be his call.

Mitch chewed on the inside of mouth and nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine.” I couldn’t tell if he knew about my run in with Sophie and I wasn’t about to ask him.

“Okay, sounds good,” I said but then narrowed my eyes speculatively. “I don’t have my wallet so I can’t bribe you with food or beer. Or Twizzlers.”

Mitch put his hand on the small of my back to begin steering me towards his car. I tried not to shiver at his touch. I almost succeeded. Almost. Did he notice? I sure hope not. “I’ll take a rain check then,” he said, unlocking the doors with his key fob. “Now get it.”

I got into the passenger side of Mitch’s Jeep, moving a pile of dirty socks and old tennis shoes to the floor. I made a face as I handed him a moldy banana peel. “You still keep your car like this? It’s brand new! But look at it! How many times have I told you that growing penicillin in your car is a
bad
thing?” I gagged a little.

“How many times have I told you that if you have a problem with it, I’ll be more than happy to let you clean it.” Mitch turned on the engine and started to back out of the parking space.

“Watch out!” I screamed, pointing to the van that was reversing at the same time.

Mitch maneuvered around the other vehicle while laying on his horn and giving the other guy the finger. “Oh my god, I forgot about what a horrible backseat driver you are,” Mitch complained.

I gasped as he took a turn too quickly, driving up over the curb and narrowly missing the mailbox. “And I forgot about what a supremely shit driver you are.”

“Hey, I’ve never been in an accident,” he countered.

“Not one that the police have been called to,” I corrected.

“That tree came out of nowhere,” he argued.

“Yeah it jumped out of the ground and ran into your car. How could I forget?” I remarked dryly.

“Turn on the radio. I don’t want to hear you lecturing me about using my signal before I turn the whole way there,” he grumped but his lips twitched and I knew he wasn’t serious.

“God forbid you follow the rules of the road, Mitch Abrams,” I muttered, trying to cover my smile.

This was an old song and dance. One that we had done a thousand times before.

It felt good.

Like maybe I hadn’t completely lost my best friend.

Sophie could suck it.

I turned on the radio and a familiar song blasted through the speakers. I looked over at him in surprise.

“You still have this CD?” I asked him.

I noticed that his cheeks flushed a peculiar shade of red. As though he were embarrassed at being found out.

“Yeah, well shit pop grows on you after a while,” he replied gruffly.

I felt tingles everywhere.

I had made him a CD with all of my favorite songs years ago after complaining about his general lack of taste when it came to music—his own band not withstanding.

He had grumbled and argued but of course had let me have my way. And he had kept that CD in his player ever since.

I would have assumed after everything that went down he would have thrown it out, along with our friendship.

But he hadn’t.

And that made me all squishy inside.

“Do you know how to get to the botanical gardens?” I asked him once we were on the interstate.

“Yeah, I’ve been there before,” he said, jerking the wheel as he passed a tractor-trailer.

“
You’ve
been to Blue Ridge Botanical Gardens?” I scoffed.

Mitch’s jaw tightened and he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him. What was with the mood shift?

“Uh, well I came out here with Sophie last year,” he muttered, cutting across two lanes of traffic to make the exit.

I slammed against the door as he cut a tight turn down the off ramp which only exacerbated the twisting and turning in my stomach at Mitch’s admission.

Of course he went with his girlfriend. She looks like the let’s-walk-through-gardens-and-skip-through-fields-talking-to-animals kind of chick. I hate her and her stupid let’s go to the botanical gardens in our free time ass.