Desperate Chances
Page 61

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.
Wow, that was harsh, even for an internal monologue. Even if I thought she deserved it.
“Oh, okay. Well then at least we won’t get lost,” I remarked brightly. So bright it was like the goddamned sun in the car.
“Have a look on the floor in the backseat, I think there might be a notebook back there,” he said, honking at a VW bug driving down the middle of the road. He rolled down the window and flipped the guy off.
“You really should address your road rage issues,” I told him. I glanced at the floor behind the seat and cringed. “I think something’s moving back there. I’m scared.”
Mitch snorted. “Don’t be such a girl about it. Just look would ya. We’re almost there.”
“If I lose a finger, I’m going to be pissed,” I warned. Mitch rolled his eyes and I forgot about Sophie and my highly unreasonable jealousy.
I twisted in my seat and leaned over the center console. I pushed aside three sweatshirts with questionable stains, an old lunchbox, and a bird feeder made of twigs.
“What in the heck do you have a bird feeder back here for?” I asked, my voice muffled. I looked over my shoulder to find Mitch staring at my ass. Which was right at his eye level. And I was wearing a skirt.
“It’s my mom’s. She was in some kind of art group and thought it would look perfect in Garrett’s yard,” Mitch answered, his voice husky.
I quickly found a green notebook and a pen and pulled myself back up. Mitch chose that moment to take a sharp turn and my butt all but hit him in the face. He put his hand up and braced himself. Against my left ass cheek.
I went completely still, unable to move.
Because Mitch was cupping my bum.
“Uh—” I gulped and he moved his hand like he had been burned.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I should learn to take the toe off huh?” he chuckled uneasily.
I sat back down in my seat and gave him a weak smile, my heart hammering in my chest, making me lightheaded.
“That would probably be a good idea if you want to live to see old age,” I said primly.
Mitch pulled up in front of a colonial style house and killed the engine.
“This is it,” he said, sounding like he was choking. He wouldn’t look at me and I knew it had to do with the whole butt-grabbing thing. Things had gotten weird again, which made me incredibly sad because we had actually been getting along lately.
I climbed out of the car, tucking the notebook and pen into my purse. “Thank you so much for riding to my rescue yet again.” We stood there looking everywhere but at each other. We were so incredibly lame. “Um, well you don’t have to stick around. I can call Viv or Mays when I’m finished and have them come and get me.”
Mitch zipped up his coat and grabbed a stocking cap from the backseat, pulling it down over his dark head. “I’ll tag along if it’s okay. Like I said, I don’t have anywhere to be.”
I smiled, this time with total sincerity. “I’d like that.”
“I just have to walk around and take some pictures and I’ll be finished. I’ll just use my phone and hope they’re good enough,” I said to Mitch an hour later.
The interview with Mrs. Wagner, the director of the botanical gardens went pretty well. She was a lovely lady that answered all of my questions with a smile and plied me with homemade fudge and hot chocolate. She encouraged me and my “man friend”—as she referred to Mitch—to take a stroll around the grounds. The gardens were closing in thirty minutes but she assured me that staff would be around so I could take as long as I needed.
“You’ve got a decent phone. It’s high res with 1.9 mega pixels, the pictures should be pretty good,” Mitch informed me after having inspecting the camera.
“I had no idea you were so well versed in camera phone specs,” I remarked as we headed out to the topiary garden towards the back of the house. The light was starting to go and I needed to take the pictures quickly. I stopped along the path and snapped a few shots in the dwindling light.
“I’m well versed in lots of things, G,” Mitch said with a smirk.