The Meltdown Match (A Romance Novella) (2 page)

Mitch jogged up the stairs, feeling like his day, and possibly summer, had taken a turn for the better. Courtney was back in town and had handed him a golden opportunity.

He rounded the corner, stepped into a small cubicle, and planted his hands on Alyssa’s desk. As the administrative secretary, she had the unlucky responsibility of being in charge of The Meltdown Match and wasn’t too happy about it.

“Hey, Lys, I have a few more names to add to the contest.”

She continued her typing without a glance at him. “Sorry. Deadline’s passed. They’ll have to wait until next year.”

“But I’ll be thirty and can’t.”

Her stubby fingers stopped typing, like Mitch knew they would. She looked up and studied him through thick, black-framed glasses. “I’m sorry, did you just say
you
want to enter?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because last week you called The Meltdown Match an embarrassment to Heimel.”

Mitch shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve had a change of heart.”

Alyssa pursed her lips as she continued to watch him. Although she only had about five years on him, the way she peered at him made him feel like he was back in elementary school, in trouble with his teacher.

“You said a few names. Who else?”

“Courtney and Hannah Spaulding. I ran into them downstairs.”

The wariness in her eyes disappeared, replaced by a slight, knowing smile. “Ah. Everything just got a lot clearer. You do know we have over 100 entries, right? Your chances of getting matched with Courtney aren’t that great.”

Mitch pushed off the desk regained his full height. “I was thinking we could increase my odds.”

A brown eyebrow lifted. “And how are we going to do that?”

“With salt, obviously.”

“To you, maybe.”

Mitch smiled, more than a little satisfied with himself. “You should have paid more attention in your chemistry classes. If you had, you’d know that salt lowers the freezing point of water.”

Realization dawned in Alyssa’s slightly magnified eyes. “Well, aren’t you a regular Einstein.”

“You mean Pasteur. Einstein was a physicist, not a chemist.”

“Whatever.” Her expression turned calculating, making Mitch suddenly wary. “I’ll help you on one condition.”

“What?”

“I need you to take the burger-flipping shift from eleven to two tomorrow.”

Mitch hesitated. It would be much less complicated to pick up a phone, ask Courtney out, and avoid the hassle of burger duty and frozen salt water. But there was a reason he’d always kept things at the teasing, just-friends status. Something about her intimidated the heck out of him, and he’d never been able to bring himself to say,
Hey, I like you. Want to go out sometime?

He’d much rather let the sun take the risk, and if flipping burgers for three hours is what it took to make that happen, so be it.

“Count me in,” he said.

The clock on Courtney’s nightstand registered 4:20 AM. She blinked sleepy eyes at it as sunlight filtered its way around the outer corners of her blackout blinds, daring her to go back to sleep and miss the dawning of a wonderful, unique day. Today, the sun would shine down from its highest annual altitude, creating the longest day of the year. For those in Heimel, sunset wouldn’t come until close to midnight.

Courtney’s arms stretched high over head as a small smile touched her lips. She rolled out of bed and opened her blinds, allowing the sun to wash over her face for a few moments. Then she reached for her laptop and plopped down on her bed, tucking a few pillows behind her back. The air felt charged with creativity, as if inspiration waited for the perfect moment to strike.

She stared at the blank computer screen, her mind whirring with possibilities for a new story. What about something set at a dilapidated castle surrounded by enchanted woods? Ireland, maybe? Hannah had always said Courtney should go for an international setting.

Then again, that sounded too much like a fairytale.

What about a story involving The Great Wall of China, or those mystical islands off the coast of Vietnam?

Courtney’s fingers fluttered against the keys, not hard enough to make letters appear on the screen. Her expression brightened. What about New Zealand? She could write about a filmmaker who goes there to shoot a documentary about snow skiing then meets a mysterious woman who can control the weather.

She bit her lower lip. That could work—cool setting, lots of potential for intrigue and romance. Yes, that could definitely work.

For the next three hours, Courtney thought, typed, deleted, typed some more, and deleted some more. Something was wrong. Off. The story refused to come together the way her stories usually did. Was it the setting? The plot? The characters? All of the above?

Ugh.
She frowned at the sun outside. So much for inspiration.

When the smell of bacon wafted into her room, she highlighted the remaining text, clicked delete, shoved her feet into her slippers, and headed downstairs with an attitude much less optimistic than it had been a few hours earlier.

“Hey, Mom, something smells good.”

Dressed in a rose-colored floral apron, with matching curlers in her hair, her mother poured pancake batter onto a skillet. “You’re up early. I figured you’d sleep in today and I’d have to keep your breakfast warm.”

Courtney move to the stove and stirred the homemade syrup that simmered there. “I think it’s going to take a few days for my body and mind to acclimate to the early sunrise. I’ve been up since 4:30.”

“Good grief, what have you been doing?”

“Writing,” Courtney said. “At least trying to. I woke up feeling inspired, only to come up with a whole lot of nothing.”

“Sorry to hear it.” Her mother flipped over a pancake. “Maybe getting out will help. You and Hannah are going to the June Solstice Days aren’t you? That might trigger something.”

Courtney turned off the stove and moved the pan to the counter. She dipped her pinky in the syrup and licked the sweet liquid from her finger. “Let’s hope so. I promised my agent I’d have a rough draft ready by the end of the summer.”

Her mother smiled and patted her cheek. “And you will; I’m sure of it.”

Courtney returned the smile, feeling slightly encouraged. Her mother was right. She was in Heimel, after all, and sooner or later, something solid would come to her. It always did. She just hoped it would happen sooner than later.

Courtney eyed the dozens of cylindrical ice vases that lined the tops of several tables—probably about one hundred in all, and not much to look at shape-wise. But the way the light sparkled off the glossy surfaces made for an impressive sight. In this central, roped-off section of the fair grounds, throngs of people milled about, watching and waiting, as if staring at the vases would somehow make them melt faster. Courtney, on the other hand, knew the vases still had hours to go and cared more about whether or not her name appeared on one of the many sticks poking out the top.

She sighed, knowing Mitch had probably made sure her name was there, intermixed with all the others. Or worse—
Salt Spaulding
, which was something he’d likely write since he liked to annoy her. Regardless, if The Meltdown Match came to an end and her name wasn’t announced, she wouldn’t look at the remaining sticks. She preferred to believe that if hers didn’t fall first, it didn’t exist.

“Look!” A little girl beamed as she pointed. “That vase is almost melted!”

Courtney took a few steps to the side and looked where the little girl pointed. Sure enough, in the men’s section, a vase definitely appeared smaller and thinner than those surrounding it.

“Hey, that one seems to be melting faster, too,” a woman said, pointing to another vase, this time in the women’s section.

Courtney’s heartbeat quickened when she saw the stick in the second vase already leaning precariously to the side, waiting for another inch of the ice to liquefy. Unable to pry her eyes away, Courtney continued to watch, feeling like a miracle was happening right before her eyes. Was it coincidence, or was the sun really working its magic, bringing two unsuspecting hearts together? She didn’t dare hope one on the names was hers.

Before she caved to the temptation to duck under the ropes and be disappointed, Courtney turned and weaved her way through the throng in search of Hannah. Her eyes scanned the crowed until they settled on a tall, curly-haired guy flipping burgers. Without meaning to, she started forward, forgetting all about the taco salad she and Hannah had agreed on later for lunch. A greasy hamburger suddenly sounded much better.

Courtney paid a few dollars for a plate with chips, potato salad, and a hamburger bun, then made her way to Mitch.

“Hey, aren’t you the city engineer?” she said.

He looked up and grinned. “You obviously have me confused with someone else. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a master chef with mad hamburger-flipping skills. Check this out.” He scooped up a patty, tossed it in the air, watched as it flipped a couple of times, and caught it with his spatula. His grin widened. “See? No mere city engineer could do that.”

Courtney laughed. “You’re right. You couldn’t be Mitch. No one in their right mind would ever let him near a grill.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Back in high school, someone made the mistake of putting him in charge of the hamburgers at a summer party, and he—well, let’s just say he gave ‘well done’ a whole new meaning.” Courtney stood on tiptoe and leaned forward to see over the top of the grill. “Those aren’t burnt, are they?”

“Very funny.” Mitch lowered the lid to block her view and raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Has anyone ever told you that your hair is the color of salt?”

Courtney barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s blonde, not white. And no, not many people get that mixed up. Only you and that other guy who burns things.”

“Maybe I should leave your burger on a little longer. You know, for old time’s sake.”

“And maybe I should enter your name in the karaoke contest—you know, for old time’s sake,” Courtney said, reminding him of the time she’d done exactly that.

Mitch laughed. “Only if you’re planning to pass around ear plugs.”

“Oh, you weren’t that bad.” She held up her plate. “One hamburger, please. I need to hurry and eat this before Hannah yells at me for having lunch without her.”

He nodded toward the table next to him. “Take a seat. It’ll be ready in a sec.”

Courtney walked around the grill and sat on the table, letting her legs swing beneath her as she admired how good Mitch looked in jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt. He filled his clothes out perfectly—not too much and not too little. Mitch had never been into gyms. He preferred to work hard and play harder, and his well-defined, but not excessive, muscles were a result of those labors. When he glanced to the side and caught her staring, she averted her gaze and cleared her throat.

“How did you get roped into doing this, anyway?” she said.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a saint.”

Courtney opened her bag of chips and pulled one out, then held the bag out to Mitch. “Alyssa put you up to it, didn’t she?”

“Maybe.” Mitch grinned as he stole a chip. “But I agreed to it, so that has to count for something.”

Courtney smiled, something she did often around Mitch. Moments later, he slipped an unburned patty on her bun with an exaggerated flourish, and she smiled again. Instead of taking her plate to the designated eating area, she stayed put, preferring to eat her lunch next to Mitch.

“Well?” she said.

“Well what?”

“I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“I’ve been gone for nine months. What have I missed?”

While he cooked and slapped burgers on peoples’ plates, Mitch entertained her with story after story of humorous things that had happened around town during her absence. She listened, loving the sound of his voice and the way he could make any situation comical and interesting.

Something about Mitch had always drawn her in. His good looks, definitely, but Courtney had dated plenty of handsome guys. It was more than that. The way he teased her. The way he looked at her and smiled just that way—as if he’d reserved the real him for her alone. Courtney always had to catch herself from doing something stupid like fall for him or write that face into one of her stories. Mitch could have his pick of anyone, and although he made jokes about salt being his favorite, his actions proved that his tastes ran more toward cinnamon and allspice.