Chapter 2
PETAL
By the time the auction wraps, I’m full-on ticked off.
Not only because it looks like I really have to go on a date with the jock guy, but also because I didn’t get the soap and candle basket I wanted, which I missed thanks to Mrs. Bender talking my ear off.
My gift basket went to a man who looked like he doesn’t want anything to do with it, and who bid only to get my mother off his back.
In her final plea to the crowd, Mom turns on the tears, effusively thanking everyone for their support of her pet project as if she’s raising money for starving children in Africa.
Mrs. Bender gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and joins the stampede to exit the ballroom, likely one of a majority who didn’t want to be there, anyway.
I am hanging out, waiting for the room to clear, when there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn to find a little man with wire glasses and slicked back hair, nearly my same height.
My same height—when I’m sitting down.
“Miss Parker,” he says, shoving his hand forward with great excitement.
I extend my own and take his sweaty one, watching him look me over like he’s trying to decide whether to buy me or not.
Gross.
When he lets go, I wipe my hand on my dress, and look around for someone to save me. With the ballroom mostly cleared out, my only hope is my mother, but she’s busy pressing the flesh with a woman taking notes on a pad of paper, probably from the local media.
Dammit.
Sweaty Palms keeps smiling. “I’m Vince Vincent. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Vince Vincent? Unfortunate name.
“Hello,” I say. “I hope you enjoyed the auction.”
He clears his throat. “Oh, um, yes, I love these… charity fundraisers. They’re so important to the… community.”
Yeah, he couldn’t give a shit, like most of the other people Mom roped into coming.
“Did you bid on anything? Win big?” I ask with a laugh.
While I’d like to ditch this weird little dude, my mother’s voice rings in my head, reminding me that when I’m in public, I am representing the Parker family.
Vince Vincent laughs and shakes his head. “Oh no. That’s not why I’m here. But you, Miss Parker, you won big.”
He says this with a hand gesture I guess is supposed to emphasize just how large my win is.
I nod. “Thank you. It really was a fluke, I never intended to bid on Ralph Hendricks—”
“Rake Hanson is his name, Miss Parker,” he says through his teeth.
Jesus. Easy now.
“Right, sorry. Rake Danson,” I repeat.
“Hanson. His last name is Hanson.”
I toss my head back with a laugh. This guy needs to loosen the fuck up. “Right. Thanks. Yup, I’m the lucky one, aren’t I?”
“Do you mind if I grab this seat next to you, Miss Parker?” he asks, not waiting for my answer.
I glance around. I really want to get the hell out of here.
“Let me get right to the point,” he says. “I am the public relations rep for the San Francisco Aftershocks, and I’m here with Rake, whom you bid on and won in the auction.”
I wave my hands in dismissal. “Oh that. Yeah, I didn’t really bid on him. I was just trying to kill a fly,” I interrupt.
“Nevertheless, Miss Parker—”
“You can call me Petal.”
He sucks in his breath. “Yes. Petal. As I was saying, whether you meant to or not, you won a date with the Aftershocks’ star player. I’m here to make sure you two connect, so we can follow your progress.”
Progress? What progress?
“Oh look, Vince.” I lean closer and lower my voice.
“I don’t want a date with that guy. This is all just some kind of misunderstanding.
You can have him back. I mean, I’ll pay the two grand, no problem.
I always support my mother’s… hobbies. But give Ralph to some other girl.
There are still a few left here, just look around.
I’m sure they’d be super-excited about meeting him—”
He drums his fingers on the white banquet tablecloth as servers clean up around us. “It’s Rake. Not Ralph.”
“Got it, sorry. Look, Mr. Vince, I have a lot on my mind. You see, I went through a very public breakup just a few months ago, and I’m not ready to date anyone, much less your man. Nor do I need to give people in San Francisco anything else to gossip about. You catch my meaning?”
“Petal, you need to go on a date with this man. You are legally obligated, if you really want me to be a stickler. Plus, it would be bad publicity for the Aftershocks, were this to fall apart before it even gets started.”
For what to fall apart? A silly date?
“And Vince is my first name. I’m Vince Vincent.”
“Right, Vince,” I say with emphasis. This guy needs to listen better. “Give Rake to someone else. If he’s as great as you say he is, I’m sure women are lining up—”
“Here he is!” Vince exclaims, cutting me off. “Petal Parker, I’d like for you to meet Rake Hanson.”
I turn toward the behemoth of a red-headed man I saw from across the room and crane my neck up. And up.
Jesus, he’s big. I didn’t realize that from so far away.
“Oh hello, Rake. I was just telling Vince here that I’ll gladly give you to another woman. I’m not into going out much these days. Just spending a lot of time at home with my girlfriends. That sort of thing. In fact, I’ll be leaving for a big trip soon. Well, as soon as I plan it.”
Okay, that’s sort of a lie. After my wedding fell apart, I quit my accounting job with the intention of going to Mexico for a few weeks to lie on the beach, do yoga, and work on my tan.
But I haven’t gotten around to going yet, and instead, have holed up at the guest cottage at my mother’s winery. I’m lying low. Like, real low.
The blank expression Rake is wearing gives nothing away, as if he doesn’t care whether I go on the date with him or not.
Or, live or die, for that matter.
We’re on the same page. Cool.
“Vince, we gotta go. I have practice soon,” Rake says.
With his lips pressed together, Vince looks between the two of us like we’re naughty children. “We’ll leave in a minute, Rake. And listen, both of you, this date must happen. It’s a done deal. PR has already put out a release.”
PR? A release?
That’s just stupid.
Also, not my problem.
But I remain polite. “Looks like you gotta do a little retracting then, don’t you, Vince? You think maybe your press release was jumping the gun?”
I’m pretty sure a tiny hint of amusement crosses Rake’s face.
“No, no, no,” Vince says. “You will go. You will. You must.”
For cripes’ sake. I’m tired. And hungry. I only got two bites of lunch during the auction because people were talking to me so much.
I get to my feet and realize that while I tower over Vince Vincent, I barely come up to Rake’s shoulder. I’m considering pointing that out when my mother descends on us, throwing an arm around one of my shoulders and straining to reach her other around Rake’s.
“Look at these lovebirds, would you?” she sings. “You two make a damn good-looking couple, you know that?”
Vince beams. Rake does nothing.
I feel hopeless.
“Mom, I was just saying how this is all a mistake and that they can just give Rake to some other girl. I’m not interested.” I quickly look at him. “Nothing personal.”
He finally speaks, his voice deep and sexy. “No offense taken. We can bag it. Fine with me.”
“No, wait!” Mom screeches. “That would hurt the integrity of both my fundraising efforts and the Cable Car Museum itself. No, no, you will go on the date, you will.”
I’m used to my mother pressuring me into things. For example, I hadn’t wanted to come to this event today, but she told me my attendance would add ‘credibility’ to the cause. However, I’m not sure how her pushiness will go over with the giant athlete next to me.
“Mom, really—” I start to say.
But she shakes her head so hard her lacquered hair actually shifts. “No!” she says with finality. “This date is happening, and that’s the end of the discussion.”
Damn. I sneak a glance at Rake, who is equally taken aback. He says nothing, which tells me she’s run us both over, like she always does when she wants something.
Mom gets what she wants. And she really wants me to have a date with this guy.
A guy who looks like it would kill him to smile.
Yay me.