Blitz: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy (Blast Brothers Book 3), стр. 36

because we didn't make quality products, but because the market was already saturated.

Our tools were some of the best in the business. But we were a small-town operation trying to go big during a construction slump. Going big required publicity, which required money – money we didn't have.

And yet, we'd eventually gotten plenty of both – the publicity first, and the money second, thanks to me and my brainchild.

Blast.

The show had changed everything, as I'd known it would.

Thanks to the resulting publicity – and the fact we made damn good products – Blast Tools had gained two decades of growth in only a few years.

These days, we kept the buzz going with smart social media campaigns and just enough drama to keep things interesting.

But this was no time to be complacent. In Mason's office, I gave both of my brothers a long, impartial look.

In spite of our differences, the three of us made one hell of a team. Mason kept the company running, Brody kept Blast going strong on the construction side, and I made sure we remained on top as far as visibility and market share.

It's true that not all of my ideas were home runs, but my batting average was pretty damn impressive.

Across from me, Mason still hadn't replied to my question on whether or not he remembered the show. But it didn't matter.

The question had been rhetorical, and Mason was being Mason.

It was one of the reasons we'd divided up the responsibilities in the first place. When it came to marketing and promotion, I had the final say, period.

I told him, "I don't need your blessing. You remember that, right?"

He frowned. "So why are we here?"

Next to me, Brody said, "I know why I'm here."

Mason asked, "Why's that?"

Brody grinned. "To keep you and Chase from killing each other."

Mason and I shared a long silent look. In that moment, we were in total agreement. Brody was enjoying this a little too much.

It was easy to guess why. During last year's season of Blast, Mason and I had given Brody enough shit to fill an outhouse. Apparently, he was looking to shovel some of it back.

Mason eyed Brody across the conference table. "Shouldn’t you be in Colorado?"

Brody was still grinning. "Not according to your fiancée."

At that word, fiancée, Mason's eyes softened in a way that made me want grab the nearest trashcan and hurl up my breakfast – except I hadn't eaten and I wasn't the queasy type.

Still, it was the principle of the thing.

When I looked back to Brody, he had that same look.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

It was time to get back to business.

"Listen," I said. "The festival thing, it's a good, wholesome look. It'll be the perfect thing to get people focused on something else."

Brody said, "You mean on someone else, meaning the crazy chick."

I felt my jaw clench. She had a name.

Mina.

And sure, I'd called her crazy. Multiple times. But I didn't like Brody doing it, especially when he was the one who'd inspired my latest brainstorm.

Last year, millions of fans had eaten up the drama between him and Arden, even in spite of the truth. They'd hated each other.

Until they didn't.

The whole thing had started back in high school, when they'd been hardcore enemies. Their animosity had carried over into the construction project and had made things more complicated than they'd needed to be.

But that wouldn't be me.

I had no history with Mina Lipinski.

I wasn't planning to get one either. Sure, I might give her a glance or two to get the audience thinking. But that's where it would end.

I finished the meeting by explaining to both of my brothers that if they were smart, they'd make Mina feel warm and welcome – not because I was going soft, but because she seemed like an honest person.

If she hated us, she'd have a hard time hiding it. And the goal was to generate positive publicity, not the other kind.

After saying my piece, I stood and wandered over to Mason's window. As I moved, I tossed a final warning over my shoulder. "And remember, no talk of her being crazy."

That last word – crazy – was still hanging in the air when I happened to glance out the window. Once again, I spotted Mina on the street below. Today, she'd parked maybe a block away from where she'd parked yesterday.

I frowned. Yesterday, she'd been crawling on her car.

She wasn't crawling today.

But that didn't mean she was acting normal.

I turned and looked back to my brothers. At something in my expression, Brody pushed back his chair and stood.

Shit.

Already, he was heading toward me – or more accurately, toward the window.

When he reached it, he looked out and did a double-take. With a puzzled expression, he said, "Huh. Well, that's something you don't see every day."

He was right about that.

When my only reply was an irritated look, Brody asked, "Is that a crown?"

I reached up to rub the back of my neck. "I think it's called a tiara."

Whatever it was, Mina was wearing it right now, as she stood inside her car with her upper body poking up through the gap left by the open sunroof.

I couldn't see her face, but I'd recognize the back of her anywhere, especially with her blonde hair and little white dress.

Brody and I were still staring when Mason joined us at the window. After a long moment, he asked, "Who the fuck is she waving at?"

I had no idea.

But she was doing a royal wave, stiff and formal, like she was Queen of England greeting her subjects.

But there were no subjects. There was nobody at all, just an empty street.

Brody asked, "Do you think she's celebrating?"

Mason replied, "She's doing something."

We were all quiet for several beats as we watched our new spokesperson wave to subjects only she could see.

Next to me, Brody said, "So… if I can't call her crazy, can I call her something else? Like…" He paused. "Nutjob?"

At this, I came dangerously close to sighing. But sighing was for