Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie Macomber
Barbie bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from raising her hand and calling out to him.
“Do you know that guy in the wheelchair?” Anne Marie asked.
“I…not exactly. I bumped into him recently.” She didn’t mention the part about emptying her soda in his lap.
“He’s certainly a striking man.”
He was. Barbie had trouble taking her eyes off him. The crowd had mostly disappeared by then and only a few stragglers remained.
“Can we go see Grandma Dolores soon?” Ellen asked.
Anne Marie smiled at the girl. “After we visit my mom, okay?”
Her patience with Ellen impressed Barbie.
“I think I’d better head out,” Anne Marie said, glancing down at her watch. “We’re meeting my mother for a late lunch, and after that we’re going to the hospital.”
“Of course, no problem,” Barbie told her. “I’ve got plans myself.”
They left, which worked out well because now she was free to confront Mark. Barbie didn’t have a single idea as to what she’d do or say once she reached him. She’d figure that out when the time came.
He’d managed to leave Freeway Park and was moving steadily down the sidewalk. Barbie raced after him, having some difficulty with her shoes. “Hello, again,” she called out cheerfully.
He ignored her.
“Remember me?”
At her second attempt, Mark spun his wheelchair around. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to enjoy the music, just like everyone else.”
“I didn’t know there’d be a concert,” he grumbled.
“In other words, you wouldn’t have come if you had.”
“Right.”
“But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“No.”
Barbie didn’t understand him—and she didn’t believe he hadn’t been affected by the music. “Why are you such a grouch?” she asked.
“I like being a grouch.”
“Yes, Oscar.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street.” Her sons had often watched it when they were young. She planted herself directly in front of his wheelchair, blocking him off.
He wasn’t amused.
She’d never been so rude in her life, but Barbie wasn’t about to let him escape.
“What is it you want?” he demanded.
Now that he’d asked, she wasn’t entirely sure. To get his attention, yes, but she couldn’t admit that. “To talk, I guess.”
He tried to wheel around her, but once again she hindered his progress. “I’m not interested in talking, nor am I the least bit interested in you.”
Barbie sighed deeply. “That is so refreshing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She smiled down at him. “You wouldn’t believe how many guys constantly hit on me. Not you, though, and yet we seem to like the same movies. You know, we might actually have something in common.”
He wagged his index finger at her. “I’m on to your game. You and Tessa are in cahoots—you have to be. That’s how you knew which movie I’d be watching last week. Well, that won’t happen again.”
Barbie felt her blood surge with excitement. “I wouldn’t count on it. You can’t tell me which movie to see or not to see.”
He scowled back at her. “Don’t count on me being there.”
“That’s no guarantee we won’t bump into each other somewhere else,” Barbie said, changing tactics. “We met here, didn’t we? I think it must be fate.”
“I think it’s bad luck.”
“Oh, Mark, honestly.”
His scowl grew darker.
“Your niece seems fond of you,” Barbie said conversationally.
His hands were on the wheels of his chair. “I’d like to get out of here if you don’t mind.”
“I wanted to talk, remember?”
“I don’t.”
“Fine.” She raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. “Have it your way.”
“Thank you,” Mark said gruffly and as soon as she stepped aside, he wheeled past her.
Despite his dismissive tone, Barbie followed him. “Can I ask you something?” she began.
Mark disregarded her, apparently a habit of his. His speed was surprising and in an effort to catch up with him, Barbie was nearly trotting. Her heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk and she went flying forward, landing hard on her hands and knees.
“Damn!” she cried at the sudden sharp pain. Momentarily stunned, she sat back and brushed the grit from her hands. Blood seeped through her pants and tears smarted her eyes.
Mark stopped, then reluctantly spun around to face her. “What happened?” he asked, none too sympathetically.
“I tripped.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes. Look, there’s blood.”
“Should I call 911?”
He was making fun of her, but Barbie didn’t care. She peeled up her pant leg to examine her knee.
“That’s what you get for wearing those ridiculous shoes.”
She let the insult pass.
“Do you need help getting up?”
“No, I can manage.” When she scrambled to her feet, she discovered that she’d broken the heel off her left shoe. “Would you look at this?” she cried. “If you knew what I paid for these shoes, you’d be as outraged as I am.”
“Next time don’t go chasing after me,” he said. “I’m not interested, understand?”
“Okay, fine,” she snapped.
“Fine with me, too.” He started to roll away from her.
Barbie sniffled and limped off. She’d made an idiot of herself and now she was paying the price. So much for this supposed bond between them. He wanted nothing to do with her. Well, she got his message, loud and clear.
Her progress was slow with her knee aching and her broken shoe.
“Miss, Miss.”
Barbie turned to find a woman with a first aid kit in her hand. “I heard that you fell.”
“Who told you?”
“A man in a wheelchair stopped in my store and said you might need help.”
“Really.” So Mark wasn’t as hard-edged as he’d like her to believe. He was concerned about her but he didn’t want to show it. “I’m okay. My pride hurts a lot more than my knee. It was my own fault.”
“Are you sure I can’t help you?”
Barbie thanked the woman with a smile. “I think I’ll just go home.” She’d call her mother for sympathy and then have a cup of hot tea.
“The man told me you’d probably say that. If you’ll sit down, I’ll take a look at your knee.”
“I don’t