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“What do you mean?” Her throat was so tight the words squeaked.
“You want to prove to your ex you’re not boring? Maybe make him wish he hadn’t left you?”
“I don’t want him back, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Mark had crushed her when he’d asked for a divorce. He’d accused her of ignoring him, of being unable to balance their children’s needs with his, of being unexciting and unadventurous, in bed and out. She couldn’t forgive him for that and would never risk that humiliation again.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to tweak his tail a little.”
She wanted to do more than tweak his tail. She wanted to cut it off and feed it to him with a rake. Shocked at her own wish for revenge, especially so many years after the divorce, she stayed silent.
“Going out with me would show him exactly how much you’ve moved on.”
“What would you get out of it?” He couldn’t be interested in her, not that way. And he couldn’t dislike Mark that much, not on such short acquaintance. What was his end game?
“I want to see more of my daughter.” His voice was harsh with longing. “Linda believes I’m a dangerous influence. But Elle is growing up and I’m afraid she’s going to make bad choices if Linda continues to block her. Maybe if she thinks I’m dating you—a stable, responsible, suburban mom—that will ease her fears.”
She couldn’t help feeling slightly deflated by his prosaic explanation, but he had to like her at least a little if he was suggesting such a deception.
“It would all be a ruse, though.” She wanted to make sure she understood the rules. “You’d be the bad boy to my bad girl with Mark, and I’d be the good girl to your good boy with Linda. Once you’ve improved your standing with her and I’ve had my fun teasing him, we’d end it?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
She bit her lip. “I need to think about it.”
“Of course.” He drained his coffee and stood up. “You know where to find me.”
Chapter Six
Penta thought of little else for the next few days. At times, she was ready to snap up Cash’s proposal like a trout sighting a shiny, sharp lure. At others, she berated herself for not shutting down the idea the moment he mentioned it.
While she wouldn’t mind flaunting a sexy, bad-ass boyfriend to her staid, slightly paunchy ex, she’d confessed the truth when she told Cash she didn’t want to reconcile with Mark. He’d burned too many bridges during their painful separation and divorce. Even if he approached her on bended knee—which she couldn’t imagine, not in a million years—she wouldn’t take him back.
No, her main reason for accepting Cash’s challenge would be because she wanted to. It would give her the chance to rebel in safety. Because as dangerous as Cash looked, she knew instinctively he’d never hurt her.
Do you want to be a bad girl, Penta?
How did one become a bad girl? she wondered. Was it a gift at birth? Or was it achievable through practice?
By the time Tuesday evening arrived, she was no closer to deciding.
Leaving Delilah overseeing Abra’s homework and Felix keeping a clandestine eye on Cyril, she set out for the fairground parking lot where the Silverberry Book Club was gathering for their June meeting. Normally she looked forward to their monthly get-together. Tonight, however, they were being introduced to riding motorcycles. It would be impossible to forget Cash and his tempting proposition while surrounded by the machines he pampered.
She pulled into a slot and surveyed the course laid out in orange cones with trepidation. The huge parking lot was empty except for a few vehicles she recognized as belonging to club members, a shiny black pickup with a large, enclosed trailer attached—both sporting the logo of the driving school—and three motorbikes propped up on kickstands.
Helen Mansfield, the matriarch of the Silverberries, and her husband, Nathan Spieth, stood chatting with Terrance Renfrew and Natalie Minton in a loose huddle near the bikes. Penta climbed out of her van and went to join them.
“Hello, all.” She included everyone in her wave, creasing her cheeks into a smile she hoped signalled excitement, not distress. “Ready to risk death and dismemberment?”
“I don’t think it will come to that,” Helen replied, grinning. The older woman was the kind of person Penta wanted to be when she grew up—confident, independent, and fearless. “You could have used your veto if you’re that concerned. Come to think of it, have you ever used it?”
“No.” Penta had joined the Silverberry Book Club after her separation because it pushed her out of her comfort zone. Using her veto would have defeated that purpose.
Terrance nudged her with his elbow. “Penta’s our secret wild child, isn’t she?”
His teasing touched an exposed nerve given her Cash conundrum but she kept her voice light and level. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
“That I believe.” They’d been instructed to wear heavy footwear, long-sleeved shirts, and jeans. Terrance had followed the rules, though his denim was precisely pressed and his shirt a crisp green button down. A thin fine scarf in matching hues was knotted neatly around his neck.
While she considered all the Silverberries friends, she and Terrance had developed a special bond. On lonely nights she wondered if it might have led to a deeper relationship—if he hadn’t been gay. And married.
