Boom

by Sabrina Stark

  "Good!" Arden yelled. "Because I've got a lawn to mow."

  Waverly gasped. "You wouldn't!"

  Arden smiled. "Oh, wouldn't I?"

  From the looks of things, Arden had done plenty of mowing already. But there was still a good chunk to go. In the front yard alone, maybe a quarter of the grass – the spot closest to the street – was still nearly knee-high.

  As Arden fired up the mower, Waverly whirled to face me and said, "You've got to stop her!"

  Shit.

  She was right. I did – not because Waverly was flipping out, but because the last thing I needed now was more work. The house had been a last-minute addition to our season, and we were a month behind filming already.

  As it was, we'd be busting ass to get the project done in time, which meant that another delay wasn't gonna cut it.

  I told Waverly, "Wait here." And with that, I began striding toward Arden, even as she shoved the mower into the nearest patch of tall grass.

  As I moved toward her, she yanked the mower back again, maybe a foot or two, before shoving it forward into the patch of overgrown lawn.

  The process was ugly, but effective.

  Grass that high – it couldn't be cut in a single pass – which made me marvel all over again that Arden had finished as much as she had.

  From the sidelines, Roy was watching with a goofy grin, like Arden was the sweetest thing he'd seen all year.

  Obviously, the guy didn't get it. Arden wasn't sweet.

  Sure, she looked sweet, with those big brown eyes and tight curves.

  But she was something else – trouble – the kind that kept on giving, as I soon rediscovered for myself.

  Chapter 13

  Arden

  I was just gearing up for another push into the tall grass when Brody appeared directly in my path.

  His eyes were dark, and his jaw was set. He was wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt. The jeans hugged his hips, accenting his narrow waist and muscular torso. Even his biceps looked annoyingly perfect, bulging in a way that was stupidly distracting.

  From head to toe, he looked too good by half.

  And he knew it, too.

  After all, he wasn't stupid – even in spite of his reckless disregard for his own safety.

  Whether he realized it or not, the guy was playing with fire. I had a mower. He didn't. And he was dangerously close to becoming human mulch.

  My flingers flexed around the mower's handle. One good push, and well, you get the idea.

  But mowing him down wasn't part of the plan, so I focused all of my energy on glaring.

  Over the sounds of the mower's engine, Brody called out, "Turn it off."

  I called back, "Forget it."

  His jaw clenched. "Turn it off," he repeated. "Or I'll do it for you."

  "Why?" I shot back. "Because you're sooooo helpful?"

  "No, because if you mow any further, it'll be my ass on the line."

  He had a nice ass. Oh sure, I couldn't see it now, but I'd caught glimpses here and there, especially last night, before everything had spiraled so far out of control.

  I called back, "Has it ever occurred to you that I don't care about your ass?"

  He crossed his arms, making his biceps pop to perfection as he said, "It'll be your ass, too."

  I didn't get it. "What?"

  "You want the place done, don't you?"

  If he meant the house, yes, I did want it done.

  If I didn't, I wouldn’t be mowing the freaking lawn.

  And, on a more embarrassing note, I wouldn't have begged for such a thing last night. At the memory, I felt a surge of heat flash across my face – and not because of his distracting biceps.

  I told him, "You are such a bastard. You know that?"

  I expected him to argue. But he didn't. Instead, he gave a tight shrug and replied, "Sure. But you've still got to turn off the mower."

  So he was admitting that he was a bastard?

  I felt my gaze narrow. It was a trick. It had to be.

  And, as far as the mower, I didn't want to turn it off. For the last hour, I'd been treated like garbage for mowing the stupid lawn, so the way I saw it, I might as well finish the job and be done with it.

  And yet I didn't really want to run him over, as delightful as that sounded. I mean, hey, my shoes were messy enough already.

  I tried to think. Maybe I could simply mow around him?

  No. I couldn’t.

  And why? It was because just then, the mower's engine sputtered out on its own.

  I glared down at the thing. Well, this was just terrific.

  Brody said, "You're out of gas."

  Thank you, Captain Obvious.

  And now, I felt doubly foolish.

  This was exactly how it always turned out whenever I went toe-to-toe with Brody Blastoviak. He always won.

  Damn it. Even the lawn mower was on his side.

  When I looked up, Brody's lips were twitching at the corners. He wanted to laugh. I could tell.

  I coldly informed him, "That doesn't count, you know."

  "Doesn't count for what?" he asked.

  "A win for you."

  "No kidding," he said.

  I wasn't even sure what that meant. And I had no time to figure it out, because just then, someone new appeared at Brody's side.

  It was a man I'd never seen before. He was short and stocky, with wavy brown hair, greying at the temples. He wore an expensive-looking business suit and a very bright smile.

  Confused, I glanced around the front yard. Where on Earth had he come from?

  When my gaze landed on the driveway, the answer became obvious. Sometime within the past few minutes, while I'd been arguing with Brody, yet another vehicle had arrived on the scene. It was a long black limo with dark tinted windows.

  Funny, I hadn't seen one of those since prom.

  When I looked back to the stranger, he held out his hand. "Hi. I'm Landon. And you are…?"

  Sweaty.

  Without thinking, I'd already moved my hand halfway toward his. Now I pulled it back with an embarrassed laugh. "Actually," I said, wiping my hand on my jeans. "I'm not sure you want to shake this. I'm a little messy."

  From somewhere to my left, I heard a delicate snort. I turned to see the blonde standing within slapping distance – this time on the lawn, not on the walkway.

  I looked down at her shoes and almost smiled. The shoes were still mostly cream-colored, but now, the front half of each shoe had a slight greenish tinge.

  Suddenly, my day felt just a little bit brighter.

  She muttered, "Oh, shut up."

  With mock innocence, I asked, "Did I say anything?"

  "No. But you were thinking it."

  The stranger's voice cut between us. "Waverly, is there a problem?"

  The blonde straightened. "No sir. No problem here."

  "Good," he said. "Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

  When I turned back to the stranger, he gave me another friendly smile as he said, "You never told me your name."

  Now, I was really confused. Obviously, this was Landon Tarrington, the blonde's boss – or her boss's boss, if I wanted to get all technical. But why wasn't he angry with me?

  I mean, shouldn't he be yelling about the lawn or something?

  I replied, "I'm Arden – Arden Weathers, actually."

  During this whole exchange, Brody had been giving Landon a look that I couldn't quite decipher. Still, one thing was glaringly obvious. Brody wasn't delighted to see him.

  Then again, Brody hadn't seemed delighted by much of anything today – well, except for the mower running out of gas.

  Landon looked to Brody and said in a friendly sort of way, "So, you and Miss Weathers know each other?"

  Brody frowned. "You might say that."

  Landon gave a slow nod. "I figured as much." He turned back to me, and his gaze grew speculative. "So, you two have a history, huh?"

  I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. "Well�
��" I stammered. "…we knew each other in high school, if that's what you mean."

  "So what were you?" he asked. "High school sweethearts?"

  Me and Brody? I gave a bark of nervous laughter. "No. Definitely not."

  From the sidelines, Brody said, "Is there a point to this?"

  The guy smiled at both of us in turn. "I'm just seeing some chemistry here, and I'm wondering what's up."

  Chemistry? At the very word, I almost groaned out loud.

  I looked to Brody, and we shared a long, sullen look. In high school, we'd been chemistry partners – and not by choice.

  Brody told Landon, "You thought wrong. No chemistry here."

  "Yeah," I chimed in. "That goes double for me."

  Undaunted, Landon gave me another long look. Something in his gaze made me feel just a little bit naked – not physically, but definitely mentally.

  He reached up to stroke his chin before asking, "So what's your connection to the house?"

  The blonde – Waverly – answered on my behalf. "There is no connection. And she was just leaving."

  "Actually," I said, "my grandparents owned the place." I turned and gave Waverly a pointed look as I continued. "If you want the truth, it's been in my family for generations."

  At this, Waverly gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace. "How nice."

  When I looked back to Landon, he was nodding again. "Interesting." Slowly, he turned and surveyed the lawn before turning back to ask, "So that's why you were mowing? To fix up the ol' homestead?"

  It was a simple question. But the answer was obscenely complicated. Yes, family nostalgia had played a role in it. But I'd also been mowing out of misguided gratitude – to Brody of all people.

  I mumbled, "Something like that."

  "Right," he said. "So, how'd you like to join the team? Maybe do some consulting?"

  I froze. Wait, what?

  Chapter 14

  Arden

  The question caught me off guard. After a long, perplexed pause, I asked, "What kind of consulting?"

  Landon pointed toward my grandparent's place. "You know they're fixing that up as part of the show, right?"

  Boy, did I ever – now, anyway.

  When I gave a silent nod, he continued, "And I know you've seen the show."

  Yeah, me and the rest of the world. Against all logic, Blast was the network's number-one show of all time. Aside from the monster ratings, it had spawned countless memes, a cult-like following, and plenty of unique offers for the brothers – movie roles, cameos, endorsement opportunities, and even marriage proposals from multiple fans.

  The whole thing was beyond crazy.

  And yet, the brothers declined everything, unless it directly involved either the TV show or their tool company.

  As far as the show itself, I was pretty sure that I'd seen all of the episodes. Multiple times. It wasn’t that I was a fan or anything. It was just that, well, I'd been curious, that's all.

  Plus, I loved the whole remodeling thing. Seeing houses restored to their original beauty was oddly addicting, especially when I happened to know one of the stars.

  I said, "I might've caught an episode or two."

  "So tell me," Landon said. "Where are you working?"

  "Sorry, what?"

  "A job," he said. "You do have one, right?"

  Oh, God. Talk about embarrassing. "No. Not really. I mean, I just graduated from college, so–."

  "Perfect."

  "What? Why is that perfect?"

  "Because I'm thinking we can use a consultant, someone with a vested interest in seeing the place restored to its former glory and all that."

  From my left, I swear I heard a gasp.

  Apparently, Landon heard it too, because he looked to Waverly and said, "Is there something you want to say?"

  But it wasn't Waverly who answered. It was Brody. In a deadly calm voice, he told Landon, "She's not interested."

  I gave him an annoyed look. "I never said that."

  Brody replied, "Yeah, but you will."

  "Oh, so now you're a psychic."

  With a low scoff, he said, "Better a psychic than a psycho."

  I gave him the squinty-eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing that a lit match won't solve." His gaze hardened. "Isn't that right?"

  "Oh, for God's sake," I said. "It wasn't a match. It was a lighter."

  And the lighter wasn't even mine. It was Brody's. But that was an argument for another time – when I wasn't defending my own sanity.

  I looked back to Landon and explained, "In high school, I accidentally set fire to Brody's truck."

  "Accident, my ass," Brody said.

  I whirled to face my high-school nemesis. "Oh yeah? And what about you? You practically blew us up."

  Brody reached up to rub the back of his neck. "It wasn't that bad."

  "Oh yeah?" My voice rose. "Tell that to my missing eyebrows."

  He shrugged like this was no big deal. "Hey, they grew back."

  "Not in time for graduation!"

  It was true. In all of my senior pictures, there I was, with painted eyebrows, because my real eyebrows had gotten so singed, they were practically invisible.

  On top of that, my perfect G.P.A. had been ruined by the fact that I'd not only failed my senior chemistry project, I'd been suspended for two whole weeks and wasn't allowed to make up all of my work.

  One little boom – or more accurately one ginormous boom – and all of my plans went up in smoke.

  Now, years later, I was still suffering the consequences.

  As far as the boom itself, it was a huge miracle that no one had been seriously hurt. Against all odds, I hadn't been injured so much as made to look ridiculous. And Brody? He'd gotten away utterly unscathed. As usual.

  We were still going back and forth when Waverly's voice cut through our bickering. "Enough already!"

  In unison, Brody and I turned to look.

  Sometime in the last minute or so, she'd sidled closer to Landon. Her lips thinned as she eyed me like I was something to be scraped off her pricy shoes – which, yes, were looking just a little greener than before.

  Hah! Take that, City Slicker.

  Still, I waited in polite silence, not because she'd asked for it, but because it suddenly occurred to me that I was arguing in front of a stranger – two strangers, actually. Or three, if I wanted to include Roy.

  I glanced around, but saw no sign of him.

  Well, that was weird.

  And now, Waverly was saying to Landon, "This will never work." She gave a shaky laugh. "Seriously, just look at them. They'll be at each other's throats."

  Landon smiled like this wasn't such a bad thing. "We'll see."

  Brody looked to Landon and said, "You're forgetting something."

  Looking only mildly curious, Landon replied, "Really? What's that?"

  "Arden hasn't accepted. And trust me." Brody gave me a look filled with warning. "She won't."

  His message was clear. If I knew what was good for me, I'd decline the unexpected offer. But didn't Brody get it? Thanks to him, I had nearly nothing to lose.

  Obviously, the house would be fixed up regardless of anything I said or did. Plus, at the moment, I had no job and no place to live.

  I'd be a fool to turn this down.

  Then again, I wasn't quite sure what the offer was.

  At something in my gaze, Landon said, "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your while. You got an email address?"

  When I rattled off the address, he gave another nod. "Check it in an hour. You'll have my offer." He smiled. "I look forward to your acceptance." And then, looking strangely satisfied, he turned and strode off toward the limo.

  Just before he reached it, a uniformed driver materialized out of the front seat and held open a rear door while Landon Tarrington climbed inside.

  As the limo backed out of the driveway, Brody looked to me and said, "You're not taking it. You know that, right?"

 
I crossed my arms. "Oh yeah? Why not?"

  "Because you'll be a distraction, and you damn well know it. You want the house done, right?"

  "Oh, please," I said. "It's going to be done regardless. I'm not falling for that again."

  To his credit, Brody didn't ask what I meant. Obviously, he knew.

  We both did.

  Less than a day ago, he'd used my love of the house against me – to humiliate me, to make me beg, to drive me more than a little crazy.

  But I wasn't crazy. I was smart – smarter than he knew. Already, a plan was forming in my mind. I'd just graduated from college, and I hadn't yet found a job. But today I had been offered one, as a consultant no less.

  It was a nice title. It would look terrific on a resume, especially with the show's brand-name recognition. Plus, the job was temporary, which meant that it would offer me the perfect opportunity to look for something permanent while earning an actual income.

  Brody's voice – sounding more irritated than ever – interrupted my thoughts. "It's gonna be a worksite. There's no glamor in it."

  I made a show of looking down at my clothes. They were streaked with dirt and grass clippings. My hands were stained green, and I was a hot sweaty mess.

  I knew exactly how I looked, and it wasn't glamorous.

  But didn't he get it? Glamor meant nothing to me in the big scheme of things.

  With a stiff smile, I informed him, "I'm taking the job."

  His jaw clenched. "But you don't know what it is."

  This was true. But it didn't matter. If it offered any sort of paycheck, I would be taking it. Sure, I'd be dealing with Brody, which would be no picnic. But hey, I had experience with that sort of thing.

  In some ways, it would be a repeat of high school. Brody and I would be stuck with each other regardless of our mutual loathing.

  But this time it would be different. I was older and wiser. Plus, this was my own decision, not some random teacher's.

  And damn it, this time, I'd come out a lot better than I had the first time around.

  Chapter 15

  Arden – Six Years Earlier

  He was late.

  I wasn't surprised. But I was irritated. Somehow, by the worst luck ever, I'd been assigned Brody Blastoviak as a lab partner for my senior project in advanced chemistry.