Page 34 of The Spite Date (Small Town Sisterhood #1)

MAYBE CLOTHES ARE THE PROBLEM

Simon

The weather is making me miss England, which is remarkable. I rarely miss England.

But when it’s this sticky and hot anytime I leave my house, I do.

I miss cold, drizzly days that don’t feel as though they might melt one’s brains.

Still, I’m smiling as Pinky and I approach Bea’s burger bus at the far end of the car park where half a dozen food vans are set up on the opposite side of the lake from JC Fig.

This park area, Pinky has informed me, belongs to Austen & Lovelace College.

And today, it is teeming with adolescents in a summer nature program.

The car park is not as busy, as it’s early for lunch, but I expect it will be full soon enough.

I pause at the window of Bea’s burger bus and peek inside.

Ah, there she is.

Preparing burger toppings.

“Hello, Bea,” I call. “Lovely day to sweat your arse off, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer, but she does shake that lovely arse in my direction.

I clear my throat and order my cock to behave itself.

And then I realize why Bea hasn’t answered me, and why she’s truly shaking her arse.

“ Get you better, get you bested, get you better, get you arrested ,” she croons.

I’m unfamiliar with the song, but I spot earbuds in her ears as her head bops with her rear end.

She dances about, organizing containers of lettuce and tomato and pickles.

I lean into the window and watch.

After a minute or so, she executes a dance spin, one arm in the air, head bopping, and then she spots me and screams.

I step back and applaud. “Brava. Have you considered backup dancer as a future career possibility?”

She pops her earbuds out, then fans her face with one hand and holds her other over her heart. “First, don’t scare me like that, and second, I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or not.”

“I only mock people who deserve it.”

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

“I can assure you, your performance had a rather…moving…effect on me.”

She stares at me for one more long moment, and then she half laughs while shaking her head. “I’m choosing to believe you enjoyed it.”

“Good. Because I did.”

“Burgers aren’t ready yet.”

“I didn’t think they would be. I was in the area and simply wished to say hello.”

“Oh! You enrolled the boys in the summer program?”

How is it that I feel as though I’ve only just discovered smiling every time I’m in this woman’s presence? “I assumed a veteran parent of teenage boys wouldn’t steer me incorrectly.”

We had a short text exchange once I returned home Sunday night, and she suggested I consider this summer program for the boys.

So that they could make friends, she said.

To ease their transition to this smaller town.

It meets once a week on Wednesdays.

Those dimples light up my entire world as she smiles back at me. “All of us loved that program. I did it. Ryker did it. Griff kept saying he had to do it again so that Hudson wouldn’t be alone, but I knew he wanted in for himself.”

“The minute the teacher said get dirty , I was concerned my boys might die of happiness overload.”

“They have to be faced with too much happiness sometimes. How are they going to learn to live with it otherwise?”

“Good point.” I peer around her again. “No Daphne today?”

“Daph has a day job. Environmental nonprofit that tries to convince animals to cross the roads in safer places.”

I recall that she had a job, but not the specifics. “Truly?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yes.”

“So Hudson will be along to assist you?”

“Nope. He has a thing with some friends. I’m flying solo today.”

Oh, this is excellent. “Are you indeed?”

She props herself on the windowsill and smiles broader at me. “I am indeed.”

“In that case, I shall have to assist you.”

“Haven’t exactly had enough foot traffic this week to justify paying a helper.”

“My rates are rather reasonable.” Truly, I would help her merely for a smile, but I wouldn’t turn down a kiss either.

“Are they negotiable?”

“Indeed.”

“What’s your starting point?”

“That depends on the currency.”

“Cash or burgers?”

The minx is playing with me. Her eyes are sparkling, though her pupils have dilated, and she’s biting her lip as she awaits my response.

“Hand-holding in public or shagging in the back of your burger bus after closing.”

She leans closer. “What if I wanted to pay you in chocolate syrup?”

“Then it would depend on the administration of the payment of chocolate syrup. Though I am far more fond of honey, if I’m to be the end consumer of the payment.”

Pinky clears his throat.

Bea straightens and nearly clocks herself on the top of the window.

I glance over and spot a group of adults strolling to the food van beside Bea’s bus. But when I glance back at Bea, she’s making a funny face.

“Is there an issue?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “No. It’s just—it’s been slow. I don’t think I’ll make enough to afford honey today.”

“Not with that attitude.”

“The Camilles?—”

“Are no match for someone with as much experience at succeeding out of spite as I have.”

I’m not fond of confrontation, but I am a fan of passive-aggressive warfare when necessary. And that Camille woman cornered me yesterday outside my new favorite tea shop to insist, again, that I consider a role in the community theater’s production.

She was none too pleased at my response that my studio contract forbids community theater performances, nor did she seem to appreciate that I was unable to commit to attending her murder mystery dinner, as I need to keep my calendar open for my boys.

However, she was far more displeased when I suggested Bea’s burger bus as the best new restaurant in town to a fan who stopped to ask me for an autograph too, though she didn’t tell me to my face that I’d become sick if I ate there, as I’ve heard she’s implied to others.

Bea smiles at me again, but this one seems amused. And full of doubt. “If you don’t have anything else to do, come on up. Just push the front door open.”

I smirk at her. “I hope you’re prepared to work your arse off selling out today.”

“I hope you’re prepared for disappointment when you find out even your star power can’t overcome the doubts the Camilles have planted about me in the hearts of every person in Athena’s Rest since Jake and I broke up. Because if it could…it would’ve by now.”

“Would you care to bet on that?”

“Are you for real right now?”

“Completely serious.”

“You realize I win either way, right? If I sell out, I win. If I don’t sell out, you lose, which means I win.”

“And once again, we’re down to the terms of the bet. What are you prepared to offer me when you lose?”

She’s once again shaking her head at me. “Best I can do is cook for you.”

I squint at her. “Why am I suddenly craving risotto?”

That smile.

She knows something I don’t.

“If you win, I’ll tell you why you want risotto. And I’ll make it for you.”

“And if you win, I’ll buy out the rest of your ingredients for the day and cook you burgers at my place.”

She sticks her hand out of the bus. “Deal.”

I shake. “Deal.”

And then I hop inside her bus, which is approximately the temperature of the furnaces of Hell. “How on earth do you work in this environment?”

She grins at me and adjusts a fan so that it’s blowing in my direction.

It moderately helps.

“You know how to take orders?” she asks me.

I straighten and aim a haughty glare at her. “I beg your pardon. I’ll have you know I was a starving actor for well over fifteen years. What do you think?”

She cracks up as she points me to the tablet and card reader hanging in special containers by the window. “But are you young enough to adapt if the technology is different from what you’re used to?”

I mock gasp, which sets her into another peal of laughter.

Well worth taking the digs to see her smiling and laughing.

I unhook the tablet and make a quick study of the app, then order myself a burger and fries.

“You can’t cheat by ordering it all yourself,” she tells me from the prep line behind me.

“Those were not in our terms.”

“They are now.”

“Fine. Are we done with terms?”

She turns and looks at me.

I keep a straight face.

I am a trained actor, after all. I could theoretically straight-face her all day.

“What else are you up to?” she asks.

“Why would you think I was up to something?”

“You have a look.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“You certainly do.”

I could bicker with her all day.

Mainly because she’s the one smiling now.

As though being in my presence makes her happy.

And that makes me happy.

“If the terms are settled, then I shall get to work,” I tell her primly. “If the terms are not settled, then we need to settle them so that again, I may get to work.”

“You’re going to cheat, aren’t you?”

“My middle name may be disappointment , but my attitude is forever win at all costs .”

“Okay, Peter.”

I crack a grin at that. “Fine, fine, I only win at all costs when it comes to people who gave me disappointment as a middle name. Last chance to set any rules, Ms. Best, before I best you.”

“At this point, I’m too curious to see how you plan to cheat to care what other rules I should add.”

“Brilliant.”

I whip my shirt over my head and contemplate if I could get away with stripping out of my shorts as well.

My undergarments would remain on, naturally.

But only because the studio’s publicity team has instilled mortal fear in my soul.

“What are you doing?” Bea gasps.

“Cooling off and attracting more customers.”

“You can’t serve burgers naked.”

“Why not? I’m merely taking orders. You’re the only person touching food. But if you insist, then I’ll wear an apron when we have customers.”

Her gaze keeps darting to my naked torso. “If my food truck gets shut down by the health department?—”