The Boyfriend Bet (Boyfriend Chronicles #2) (5 page)

“Like when you’re throwing horseshoes?”

“No. It’s short for dead ringer, like a copycat. Every year, there are a few guys who have a competition to see who can get a hick—I mean a local girl—to fall for them. Once they hook up, the guy breaks things off because she’s not someone he wants for a real girlfriend. She’s a ringer.”

Volcanic rage erupted inside me. I took a deep breath so I wouldn’t spew lava all over Grant. “They have a competition? Any guy who does that should be neutered with hedge clippers.”

Click. My brain made the connection and my mouth went dry. The snickering boys muttering about rings. No not about rings, ringers. They were calling me a ringer. “That’s why Jack was mad. He thinks you’re—”

“I’m not.”

I turned in my seat to face him. “You swear, because I have hedge clippers and pitch forks and—”

He pulled off the road, taking an exit, which led to Rural King and Betty’s Burgers and Baked Goods.

“Where are you going?”

“I have no idea. Someplace we can sit and talk.”

The sign for Betty’s, which depicted a grandma wearing an apron and holding a burger in one hand and a pie in the other, came into view.

“We can stop there.” I pointed to the sign. We took a right and Grant pulled into the parking lot. The savory scent of burgers cooking on the outside grills drifted into the car.

“Whatever’s going on between us is because we’re attracted to each other, not because of some stupid contest.”

Oh, how I wanted to believe him. Though the set of his mouth and the intensity of his fabulous blue eyes did make him seem sincere.

“Would you swear on a pair of hedge clippers that you aren’t trying to make me the ringer?”

“I swear by all the sharp and pointy tools on your farm, I am not involved in that stupid contest.”

He meant it, but that didn’t change one horrific fact. “Everyone thinks you are.”

“Only the idiots.” Reaching over, he grabbed my hand.

The warmth of his touch reassured me. Still, he wasn’t the one people would be talking about. “In between classes, I heard some guys talking about a ringer. I didn’t know what they meant at the time.”

“It’s not like I can idiot-proof the world, but at least you know the truth.” His stomach growled and his gaze traveled to Betty’s door. “Do the burgers taste as good as they smell?”

“Yes.” What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Come on.” He unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

Once we were seated in Betty’s reading the menus, I gave him the good news. “Do you remember when I said Jack had to work?”

He closed the menu. “Please tell me your brother won’t be touching my food.”

“No. He works the cash register.” I pointed across the room to the bakery display case where Jack stood glaring in our direction. I gave a small wave. He scowled and rang out the next person in line.

“And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier…because?”

“You only asked about the burgers. Besides, I was hungry.”

Muttering under his breath, he opened his menu. We placed our order and it wasn’t long until I was biting into a burger hot from the grill.

“What’s up with your friend’s hair?” Grant asked.

There was only one person he could be talking about. “Delia is super-creative and she likes to be different. None of her clothes are the same as when she bought them. She colors on her jeans with markers, and cuts her shirts, and sews different pieces together. With the Wilton uniforms, all she can change is her hair.”

“Aiden can’t understand why anyone would color their hair pink.”

“She’s unique.” Jumping to Delia’s defense was my first instinct.

The tone of my voice must have clued Grant in. “He doesn’t think it’s a bad thing. Everything in his house is brown. He isn’t used to color.”

No surprise that serious boy came from a boring house. “I couldn’t live like that and I know Delia would go insane.”

We talked about our friends and school while we ate. Odd that it was comfortable, sitting with him like this. When the check came, he paid the waitress rather than going over to the cash register.

When we pulled up to the house, my grandma was crocheting on the porch swing. Crap. Goodbye any possibility of a goodnight kiss. As Grant’s car pulled closer, she went inside.
Thank you, Grandma.

He stopped in the drive and turned to me. “Are we okay?”

“There are no hedge clippers in your immediate future.”

His eyebrows went up. “Immediate future?”

“Just leaving a little wiggle room in case you do something to tick me off.”

He pointed at me. “Evil, scary girl.”

“But not boring.” I leaned in encouraging a kiss, and he met me half way. The happy sunshine feeling increased by about one hundred degrees and heat flowed through my body all the way down to my toes.

When he pulled away, there was an odd expression on his face. Was the kiss bad? Had I done something wrong? Did I have bad breath?

“Zoe, I…never mind.”

Was he serious? “No. It doesn’t work that way. Finish what you started to say.”

He leaned back against his door, so he wasn’t touching me. Not a good sign. The heat I’d experienced moments before disappeared into a black hole of insecurity. “Spit it out.”

“I like you. Tonight was fun. That’s all I’m interested in. I’m not going to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

Whack.
His words hit me right in the gut. He didn’t think I was good enough to be his girlfriend. Jack had been right all along.

Anger erupted inside of me and this time I let the lava spew forth. “Wow. You certainly think a lot of yourself. I wasn’t expecting a ring and a promise of forever. I thought we’d date. Maybe it would turn into something more. Maybe it wouldn’t, because sometimes you’re a dick. Thanks for the heads up that you aren’t interested in anything serious, because I would’ve gone shopping for a wedding dress tomorrow.” I shoved the door open, tossed my backpack onto the drive way and leveraged myself out of the car. It was like climbing out of a damn hole in the ground.

Slamming the door as hard as I could, I retrieved my backpack and stalked up to the house.

My grandma waited in the kitchen for me. When she saw my face, her smile wilted.

“What happened?”

I opened my mouth to speak and then checked the living room. “Is Jack here?”

My grandmother shook her head.

I told her about Jack’s brotherly advice and how my evening had played out. “I’m just so mad because I thought Grant really liked me.”

“Obviously, he’s an idiot,” my grandmother said.

“No argument there.” I headed over to the kitchen cabinet where we kept the Tylenol, grabbed two, and poured myself a glass of water. “How I am going to get through Foods class? We have to work together.”

“He’ll be just as uncomfortable about it as you are. Boys tend to clam up when they’re mad. Maybe he’ll give you the silent treatment.”

“If that’s the best case scenario, I feel the flu coming on. You’ll have to call me off school.”

“Nope.” My grandmother patted me on the back. “This is one of those suck-it-up-and-deal-with-it life moments.”

I flailed in frustration. “I hate those moments.”

“Sorry, unless you cover yourself in bubble wrap and live in a cave, they are unavoidable.”

Chapter Five

Grant

Zoe took off like a rocket, shot up the steps to her front door, and went inside without looking back once. Why was she so mad? I was being honest. Wasn’t that what girls wanted, a guy who was honest with them? I wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend and I wasn’t going to lie about it.

As I drove home, I could still smell the sweet scent I associated with her in my car. It smelled like vanilla. Maybe that was just because we were always baking. Who knew? Not that it mattered. There were plenty of girls out there who smelled good.

At school the next morning in the quad, I told Aiden about what had happened with Zoe.

“So things were going great, and then you screwed it up.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Not that I’d been looking at it like that.

“You swore off girls like Lena. Zoe is about the most opposite of Lena you can find.”

He had a point. Before I could respond, someone tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. Amber stood there, wearing the same pissed-off expression Lena used to wear when I’d done something that annoyed her.

“I heard the strangest rumor about you and that Zoe Cain girl.”

“What did you hear?”

“Someone said you went to a hick bar with her last night.”

“Not a bar, a restaurant.” The hick part I couldn’t exactly argue.

Amber crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t understand what you’re doing with that girl.”

“That makes two of you,” Aiden said, like this was all very funny.

“Good to know you have my back.” I clapped him on the shoulder.

Amber gave a dramatic sigh. “I don’t know what you see in her—”

“It’s none of your business who I see, Lena.”

“Amber,” she bit out.

Confused, I turned to Aiden. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“No.” He rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “You called her Lena. Probably because she’s acting like a jealous girlfriend.”

So that’s why Amber looked like she wanted to stab me in the eye with a pencil. “He’s right. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the market for a girlfriend.”

“Your loss.” Head held high, she stomped off.

“That was fun,” Aiden said. “What are you going to do for an encore?”

“Shut up.” I shoved him back a step.

He punched me on the shoulder, and we joined the other students heading to class. I couldn’t help wondering if Aiden was right.

It’s not like I could avoid Zoe, since we had Foods class together. How would she act when she saw me? Angry would be my first bet, and she would have access to knives, so I should probably try to smooth this over as much as possible. It wasn’t even a date…we just stopped for dinner on the way home from detention. How mad could she be?

…

Zoe

In first hour class, Lena sat behind me, emitting rays of hatred from every pore of her body. Before the teacher came into the room, I gave her the good news.

“Grant’s a dick. You can have him back.”

She just blinked at me like she didn’t know what to say. Students on either side of us stared at me, like I’d committed some form of sacrilege.

“But you were with him last night,” Lena said.

“And that’s when I realized he wasn’t worth my time.” I smiled at her and the students around me. “So anyone who was betting on me being the Ringer will have to put their money on someone else.”

At lunch, Delia and I staked out the table we ate at yesterday and went to grab our food. I kept an eye out for Grant and Aiden. Not that they would be joining us. While we were in line, they came in and sat at a table across the room.

“Stop it,” Delia said.

“Stop what?

“You watched until he walked into the room, and now you’ve glanced at his table twice.”

Needing comfort food, I filled my plate with macaroni and cheese. Delia raised her eyebrows at my choice, but said nothing.

Once we were seated, she said, “Look on the bright side. Lena won’t be gunning for you anymore.”

“True, but how am I going to get through Foods class?” I’d enjoyed the proximity the tiny kitchen provided. Now I didn’t want to talk to him, much less share a tiny workspace with him.

“Maybe Ms. Ida will let you trade partners.”

“Doubtful.”

“Whatever you do, don’t let him know he upset you.”

“I’m pretty sure he got the message last night that I was not a happy camper.”

“Today, you need to pretend that you don’t give a crap about him.”

Right. Keeping my emotions in check wasn’t one of my strong suits. I toyed with the mac ’n cheese on my plate.

“Eat.” Delia moved my plate closer to me. “No guy is worth skipping a meal for.”

…

Grant

At lunch, Amber tracked me down. She and her friend joined Aiden and me for lunch, which was a strange move, considering she’d wanted to kill me a few hours ago.

“Did you hear what Zoe told Lena in first hour?” Amber asked like she was thrilled with the news she was about to deliver.

“No.” And I didn’t care.

“Oh.” Amber smiled at me and then poured dressing on her salad.

If she thought I was going to ask, she was wrong. And I doubted she’d sit on the information since she was obviously eager to share.

“I give it ten minutes,” Aiden said, without looking up from the math assignment he was going over.

I checked the clock. “Five, max.”

Amber talked with her friend, ignoring me. Exactly seven minutes later, she set her fork down. “I can’t believe you don’t want to know what she’s telling the whole school.”

Wait a minute. She’s telling the whole school something?
“Fine. What did she say?”

“She called you a dick and told everyone they’d have to bet on someone else being the Ringer because she didn’t want a thing to do with you.” Amber sat back, looking like she’d won some sort of bet. “Maybe you should stay away from hicks in the future.” With that, she and her friend picked up their trays and moved to the table behind us.

Good riddance.

Aiden held his hand out. “Pay up.”

I pulled a ten dollar bill from my wallet and handed it to him.

I couldn’t believe Zoe was talking trash about me. All I’d done was tell her the truth. I wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend. “I bet I could get Zoe back, if I wanted to.”

“You’re on. But I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Aiden said. “She doesn’t seem like the forgive-and-forget type.”

“I could do it.”

“One question. Do you want her back or do you just want to prove that you can get her back.”

“I’m not sure.”

Aiden clapped me on the shoulder. “Like I said before, never a dull moment around you.”

…

Zoe

When I stepped into the Foods classroom the first thing I saw was Grant talking to a pretty blond girl. Fabulous. Not only did I have to be near him every day, I had the added bonus of watching him flirt with other girls.

He chose that moment to make eye contact with me. I forced a look of disinterest and headed to my usual seat. What I needed was a distraction. Something else to think about besides the fact that I wasn’t up to Grant’s snobby standards. Maybe tonight I’d ask Grandma to take me out for some target practice with the shotguns.
Breathe, Zoe. Calm thoughts. Cool thoughts.
He was a jerk, and I was better off without him.

By the time Grant joined me at the table, my temper was manageable. Ms. Ida launched into a lecture about different types of icing we could make. To me, it was a no-brainer. The cupcakes were vanilla, so the frosting had to be chocolate.

Once we were back in our tiny claustrophobic kitchen, I gathered ingredients for chocolate icing.

“Aren’t we going to talk about this?” Grant asked.

Had he realized he’d made a mistake last night? “Go ahead.” I didn’t want to start off in the wrong direction.

He pointed at the ingredients on the counter. “What kind of icing are we going to make?”

Pop.
That was the sound of my bubble bursting. I opened a cabinet and pretended to search for something in case my expression gave my thoughts away. Since it was the spice cabinet, I pulled out a few more ingredients and set them on the counter. “I want chocolate.”

He frowned. “I don’t want chocolate. I want vanilla.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say,
you can’t always get what you want
. Instead, I went with the less dramatic, “Fine. We’ll make both.”

He ran his finger down the list of ingredients for vanilla icing. “We don’t have enough to make both.”

Moving in close, I tapped the list. “Check out the recipe for chocolate icing. Notice anything?”

He scanned the recipe. “Like I said, we don’t have enough for both.”

How could he be so blind? “The recipes are the same except for the cocoa. All icing starts as vanilla before you add a different flavoring.”

“They’re all the same?”

“Pretty much.” I unwrapped a stick of butter and put it in the mixing bowl.

Grant hovered over my shoulder, standing so close I could practically feel the heat coming off of his body. “Do you mind?” I asked.

“Do I mind what?”

Clueless male. I turned, put my hand on chest, and pushed him back a step. “I’d like a little personal space.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you last night.”

He did not just throw that in my face. I gaped at him for a moment and then stomped down on my not-appropriate-language-for-school answer. “That was before I knew the real you.”

“What does that mean?”

And I was done. Turning back to the mixer, I said, “We’re supposed to be working.”

He moved in close again so that his chest brushed my back. “We’re supposed to be working together.”

I clamped my lips together and stepped to the side, gesturing that he should take over. If he was operating the mixer he’d have to stay in one spot, and I could move away from him, which is exactly what I did.

Without adding the milk, he flipped on the mixer.
Poof
. We were enveloped in a cloud of powdered sugar.

I reached over and smacked the mixer off. Students laughed. Grant stood there looking surprised and confused. “What just happened?”

I coughed and waved the powdered sugar away from my face. “You should have added the milk first. And you never put a mixer on high when you’re starting a batch of icing.”

“Always read the recipe before you turn the mixer on.” Ms. Ida’s voice carried across the room.

“Now she tells me.” Grant swatted at the fine layer of white dust coating the sleeves of his navy jacket, which didn’t make much of an improvement.

I checked the mixing bowl. It was pretty much empty except for the butter. “Grab the powdered sugar from the cabinet and we’ll start over.”

He peered into the bowl. “A little bit of it’s still in there. Won’t that mess up the recipe?”

“We might need to add a little extra milk if it’s too thick. Other than that it should be fine.”

Working in silence, Grant added another cup of powdered sugar and the milk before turning the mixer on low. He paused like he expected another white cloud to attack him.

When nothing happened, he smiled at me.

It took effort not to smile back. Why did he have to look so good? “Go ahead and add the vanilla, and then take out half.”

Once the icing was smooth Grant scooped out his portion and handed the bowl back to me. I mixed in the cocoa until the icing was glossy and brown.

Ten minutes later, we had successfully iced a dozen cupcakes. Ms. Ida circulated around the room checking on everyone’s progress. When she saw we’d made two flavors of icing, she beamed. “A bumpy start, but I knew you two would work well together.”

I laughed.

“What?” Grant said. “She’s right. We managed to work together and make something we both wanted.”

“A bit ironic after last night. Don’t you think?” I finished off my cupcake and grabbed another one.

He pointed at the cupcake I’d removed the wrapper from. “You’re going to eat another one?”

“No one is guaranteed a tomorrow.” Something my family was painfully aware of. “Life is short. Cake is good.” It’s not like I had to worry about being up to his standards.

“Time to clean up,” Ms. Ida called out. “And I have an announcement. Wilton is hosting an auction which will include baked goods, to benefit the local library. If you’re interested in participating, there will be a sign-up sheet by the principal’s office.”