Page 30 of Catching Mr. Right

Chapter Thirteen

SAM

I put down my phone and rub at my temples. I’m starting to get a real headache from all the hammering, the pounding, the chaos. Josef’s worried that the restaurant won’t be up to scratch before opening night. He’s right to be concerned, considering we don’t have a head chef yet, and the contractors keep telling me they’ll need extra time to ensure everything is done. And I swear to God, if I see another flash of pink through the big front windows I am going to lose my freaking mind.

So many times today, I’ve thought I spotted Mandy. A couple times I’ve raced out the front door to find that she’s nowhere to be seen. I can’t get her out of my head. Especially after I accused her of stalking me last night. After I kissed her last night.

Another girl wearing pink walks by, and I refuse to look. Okay, I do.

Shit, it’s her. She doesn’t stop in; keeps walking up the street. I snag my phone and yell out that I’ll be back in five minutes. Not that anyone cares. They’ll probably take a break as soon as I leave. Stepping outside, I race after her. “Hey, Mandy, wait up.”

“Huh?” She turns around. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The way she doesn’t say my name, or doesn’t react as if excited to see me bothers me more than it should. “I wanted to apologize again for last night. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk to you.”

“That’s okay.” She continues up the street. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Great. And to make it clear, that kiss didn’t mean anything. Too much—”

“It’s forgotten. Didn’t mean anything,” she calls without turning around.

“What the hell?” Startled, I stare after her like a stunned mullet. Something has to be wrong for her not to be flirting with me, doesn’t it? Not that I’m worth flirting with in the first place. From our short acquaintance, from everything Summer’s told me about the girl, she’s incredibly goal orientated. Today she seems lost and without a plan.

I chase after her. “Mandy, are you okay?”

“Sure. Never better,” she says, flatly.

Grasping her arm, I keep her from leaving. “No, you’re not. What’s going on?”

She glances up at me, and this time I notice her eyes are watery bright. Her lids are puffy, her lashes webbed together. She sniffles, and I reach for a handkerchief. Girl tears are something I’ve learned to always be prepared for, thanks to my sister.

“Thanks,” Mandy says, taking the cotton square. She wipes the rims of her eyes and her nose before holding it out to me.

“You keep it.” I push it gently back at her. “Now tell me what happened. If this is about that creep—”

“He’s not a creep. And you need to stop thinking he is.” She shakes her head. “You two would probably get along if you took a moment to be nice to each other.”

“Not going to happen.” Wouldn’t matter if he was the nicest guy on the planet, wouldn’t matter if we were friends before this whole thing with Mandy. I can’t stand her being with him. If she were dating a younger guy at least it would make sense, even if I’d still be fighting this attraction. But that’s not the point. “I want to help.”

She winces and wrings the handkerchief between her hands. “I just got the call letting me know my grandmother passed away.”

“Shit.” I squeeze her elbow, slide my hand up her arm to tug her closer. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Biting her thumb, she frowns. “There’s not really anything I can do, so I thought I’d get some ice cream.”

“Sure.” I wind an arm around her shoulders, bring her close to my side. If she weren’t grieving, I’d be worried about my ability to hold her without trying to kiss her again. “Let’s go do that. My treat.”

***

“Were you and your grandmother close?” I take a sip of my milkshake while I wait for her to answer. It’s cool under the brisk breeze from the air conditioner above the table we’re sitting at in the ice cream shop. I really should stop drinking this vanilla shit. It’s got to be bad for my heart. I need to remember to have my cholesterol checked when I’m back in L.A.

“Not really.” Mandy digs her spoon around in her sludgy, mint and chocolate ice cream, then sets the paper cup aside on the white plastic tabletop. “Not at all, I suppose. She hadn’t talked to me in almost five years.”

“Oh?” That’s unexpected. This girl is always effervescent. So bubbly and charismatic, it’s hard to believe that anyone would struggle to like her. She could charm the heart out of an ice sculpture. Or a man who should know better.

“She was the only family I had left,” she explains.

“Surely not.” I can’t imagine having no family. Even though Summer and I are virtually on our own these days. But there are two uncles and an aunt on our dad’s side if we ever needed them. “Don’t you have any cousins? Aunts? Uncles?”

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