The BFD (A Big Deal Romantic Comedy Book 1) Read online

  I snapped the paper in my hands holding it out toward her. “I’m being sued!”

  “What? By who?”

  “Calder Castleman!”

  “No way!”

  “Yes! Oh, my God, what a dick!” I shrieked.

  “What’s it say?”

  I looked at the form and read, “It is my belief that the Defendant listed above was the agent that produced the alleged defamatory statements against me.” Skimming through it, I relayed, “They therefore unlawfully caused me injuries and damages for which I seek reparations!”

  “Shit.”

  I kept going. “My name was explicitly mentioned…libelous/slanderous material…clearly understood by audience members…the following aspects of the material are explicitly false: Ms. Flannigan suggested I had a sexually transmitted disease, of which I do not nor ever have had. She posted a comment on a nationally publicized web article making me appear as if I had lost all my mental faculties. Ms. Flannigan purposely sent flower orders to the wrong clients causing tremendous pain and suffering on top of emotional grief not only to me, but them as well.” I stopped and sucked in a breath. “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “Wow. I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Mara declared.

  Fuming, I looked back at the paper. “I seek punitive damages, compensatory damages according to proof, the cost of the lawsuit and whatever else the court sees just and fit to award. I seek payment in the amount of…” I flipped the form over to see nothing on the back. “It’s blank! What does that mean?”

  She shrugged just as the phone rang then answered, “Flannigan’s Flowers and Fare, how may I help you?”

  Now, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m a redhead. And I’m part Irish. Fallacy or not, I do have a bad temper when it comes to shit like this. So, believe me, I was on freaking fire right about then. And I wanted to murder Calder Castleman. Ass.

  Mara’s eyes went big as she looked at me. “Yes, Mr. Castleman, she’s right here.”

  “Give me that!” I snarled, snatching the phone from her hand. “You’re suing me?” I yelled into the receiver.

  I heard hi, chuckle before he said, “You got the papers, I see.”

  "You’re suing me!” I repeated.

  More chuckling. “I am.”

  I narrowed my eyes and spewed, “I don’t know if you know it, but I’ve got four big brothers. Four! All I have to do is call them and they’ll come running to help their baby sister! And they won’t even flinch when I ask them to beat the shit out of you before cutting you up into tiny pieces and scattering your body parts all over D.C. and in the Potomac!”

  Of course, I knew that would never happen. My brothers loved Castle and would probably take his side. But still, it felt good to threaten the son of a bitch.

  “Do I need to add threats to the suit?” Castle asked calmly.

  Arrrrggghhhh!

  “What you need to do,” I raged, “is drop this right now before something bad happens to you!”

  Ugh. There I went with the threats again, but I was pissed!

  “Cut me up…scatter pieces…before something bad happens…” he rattled off like he was writing down what I’d said. “That’s just more ammo you’ve given me, Rori. Good to know your temper lives up to the red hair myth.” He laughed.

  “What do you want?” I hissed seeing Mara holding a small glass of water out to me which I took and downed quickly then choked. “What the hell, Mara?”

  “Patron!” she answered. “You needed something strong!”

  While I gagged, Castle drawled, “What do I want?” all think-y and amused.

  Ass!

  “What I want is…”

  When he didn’t continue straightaway, I spat, “What!”

  “Go out with me.”

  Chapter 9

  Yes. I’m an asshole.

  Read your mind, didn’t I?

  But take a guy who’s bored because his job’s over for the year, throw in the fact that he can’t convince a woman to go out with him, add a pinch of desperation, maybe a dash of recklessness because, hello, lawsuit, and, well, you come up with a defamation suit.

  Did it work?

  Hang on and you’ll find out.

  “You want me to go out with you?” Rori said in a suddenly conciliatory—yet still being completely irked—tone.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “What all does a date with you entail?”

  “Dinner. Conversation. A kiss goodnight,” I shared.

  “How long do I have before I give you an answer?”

  “An hour.”

  There was a sound like she’d covered the phone with her hand, and when I heard muffled voices, I knew that’s what she’d done, and I waited.

  A minute later she came back on the line. “Have your attorney fax over a new form with those details stating that’s all you’re seeking from this then we’ll go from there.”

  “I will. And, Rori? I’m really a nice guy,” I confessed then realized she’d hung up.

  Time to get to work.

  “Tanner Barr’s office. May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Barb, it’s Calder Castleman. How’s my girl today?” I said.

  I heard her chuckle. “I’m doing great, Castle. How’re you?”

  Barb worked for Tanner Barr of Walton, Klingman, Barr and associates, my attorney I’d kept on retainer practically from the minute I’d been drafted. She was a motherly type in her mid-60s and as sweet as they came.

  “I’m good. Alyssa’s graduating high school this year, so we’ve already been sending out announcements!”

  Alyssa was her granddaughter who I’d met a couple times when I’d stopped by the firm. “She’s already that old? I remember her as a skinny little thirteen-year-old with glasses and braces,” I replied, chuckling.

  “She’s all grown up now, Castle. Got an academic scholarship to Georgetown, so she’s good to go! I think she’s going into law too!”

  “That’s great, Barb. Send me a graduation announcement so I can get her a gift.”

  “No, that’s not necessary!”

  “I know it isn’t, but I want to,” I answered.

  “Thank you, Castle. You’re such a nice young man. Alyssa will be thrilled to know you asked about her.”

  “Any time, Barb. So, hey, I called Tanner over the weekend to draw up some papers for me, and I need to talk to him about adding something to them. Is he in?”

  “He sure is. I’ll connect you now. And thank you again, honey.”

  Although I never really planned on suing Rori, I wanted to make it look like I was. Boredom makes you do strange things.

  “Castle!” Tanner answered. “What can I do for you?”

  I told him what I needed, gave him the fax number to Rori’s bakery, asked him to send me a copy and was told he’d have his paralegal send it in the next ten minutes.

  Then I waited for Rori’s call.

  “Hello?” I answered when my phone rang.

  “When?”

  I laughed, but mostly at myself. What the hell was I doing forcing a woman to go out with me? Jesus. But I was in it all the way now. I had to go the distance.

  “Tonight,” I said.

  “Good. Let’s get it over with. Where?” she asked.

  God. I felt like I was negotiating with someone holding a hostage and giving ransom drop-off details.

  “I’ll send a car to your place at seven,” I instructed.

  “How do you know where I live?”

  “Seven. Be ready.”

  “Wait! What do I wear?” she called.

  “Casual. See you at seven-thirty,” I said and hung up.

  Now to get busy.

  Chapter 10

  “He’s sending a car to my place,” I told Mara.

  “How does he know where you live?” she asked.

  “Because he’s a stalker.”

  “Where’s he taking you?”

  “No clue. He said to dress casually, so
I’m thinking ponytail, jeans and a Dallas Cowboys hoodie,” I stated.

  Mara laughed. “Shit. I don’t even like sports but I know enough that the Cowboys are their rivals.”

  “Exactly. All right, I’m closing up and I’ll text you later. Gotta go not get ready for my date.” I rolled my eyes and locked the bakery door, turning the sign to “Closed.”

  “Have fun!” she called as she walked back to the flower shop having heard the bells on the door jingle. Then turning, she asked, “Oh! Do I need to set an alarm to execute Operation: Something Bad Happened?”

  “God, yes. Thanks for remembering. Eight o’clock. That only makes me have to spend thirty minutes with the jerk then it’ll be over.”

  There was a knock at my door at six-fifty-eight. Through the peephole I saw an older white-haired man.

  “Who is it?” I called from inside.

  “Douglas Droke, miss. Mr. Castleman sent me to pick you up.”

  Opening the door, I watched Douglas’s friendly smile turn to a shit-eating grin. Holding out his hand, he nodded his head toward my hoodie and commented, “Cowboys. Castle will throw a fit. This should be fun. Nice to meet you, miss.”

  Grinning back, I shook his hand then we took the elevator down to the lobby where outside my building and right in front under the awning was a black Lincoln Town Car which he held open the back door for me.

  “Can he be any more cliché,” I said sardonically as I got in.

  Douglas snorted before closing the door then got in the driver’s side and we took off.

  “So, Douglas, do you work full-time for Mr. Castleman?” I asked from the backseat.

  “I’d just say I was on-call for him, miss.”

  “Your last name’s Droke. You wouldn’t be related to Bobby Droke, would you?”

  “Yes, miss, I am. My son is the left tackle,” he answered.

  “So, how’d you end up working for Castle?” I inquired.

  “Bobby’s mother passed four years ago, and I was in Springfield alone, so Bobby moved me out here to be closer to him. Got me a nice apartment but after a while, I became bored. I started looking for part-time work to stay occupied, and when Castle heard I was looking, he hired me as a handyman amongst other things. Now, my boy is something else, but Castle is too. Generous as can be. Pays me almost as much as I was making at the plant when I retired. I’ve tried telling him it’s too much but he tells me he has to make sure Bobby’s happy since it’s his job to protect him on the field.” He chuckled. “Good kid, that Castle.”

  Hm. This was the second time someone had made it known that Calder Castleman was a good guy. The radio guys had lauded him for his donations to charity and now Mr. Droke was singing his praises. Maybe there was more to Castle than just a pretty face and a cocky attitude. I’d been fighting so hard not to be taken in by his charm, or notice those hazel eyes of his that always seemed to be suggesting that he wanted to do bad things to me, not to mention his killer body, all six-foot-four of him. I’d also ignored his rugged jawline and the perpetual stubble that graced it, his straight nose and high cheekbones, and his fabulous brown hair cut in what I thought was called a pompadour fade, all to save myself from becoming his next target.

  But knowing there was a nice side to him, a decent side that wasn’t just a womanizing player, I decided to give him a chance and maybe become friends.

  It was worth a shot.

  “Holy crap,” I muttered as we passed some of the houses in Wesley Heights.

  “Big, aren’t they?” Douglas said.

  “You could fit ten of my apartment in them!” I declared.

  Douglas laughed then pushed a remote that was attached to the visor. I didn’t see any garage doors opening, but when we turned into a drive, I saw that the gate was opening.

  “Castle lives here?” I gasped.

  “Yes, miss.”

  We approached a three-story colonial-style freaking mansion made of beige stone. Four dormer windows rose up from the rooftop and four huge columns stood like sentinels on the front porch. The landscaping was impeccable with all varieties of trees and bushes gracing the lawn, all lit up so I could see them in the dark. Wow. I was clearly out of my league right about then.

  Douglas pulled around to the back of the house then opened my door and helped me out of the car as I stared all googly-eyed at the surroundings. There was a railing farther back from the house, and as I approached it, I saw that below was an infinity pool and a pool house that was at least three times the size of my apartment. Jeez.

  “How much do you think this cost?” I asked rudely, but I was in awe at the moment.

  “I’ve heard it was almost ten million.”

  “Damn.”

  “This way, please, miss.”

  He led me up the steps to the back door holding it open and I walked into a mudroom that had several cabinets on both walls and at least ten Nike jackets hanging on one wall and twenty pairs of Nike shoes on a floor rack against the other. I guessed if the shoe—and jacket—fit, buy them all?

  Douglas led me into a foyer where a wonderful smell hit me, something Italian I could tell, and my stomach growled. As I followed along, I saw there were tons of pictures on the walls of what I assumed were Castle’s family, and they were all beautiful people who looked immensely happy which made me smile. Finally making it to the kitchen, I saw Castle standing at the huge center island concentrating hard at tossing a salad.

  “We’re here, Mr. Castleman,” Douglas called getting his attention.

  “Oh, hey!” Castle said, wiping his hands on a towel before coming over to shake Douglas’s hand. Smiling, he looked at me and I could tell he didn’t know what to do. I finally held my hand out to him, which he took but instead of shaking it, he squeezed lightly and said, “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I echoed. “You have a beautiful house.”

  He looked around and said, “This old thing?” then grinned giving me a surprise wink.

  “Will you need me anymore tonight?” Douglas asked.

  Castle looked at me. “Are you okay with me taking you home?” When I nodded, he told Douglas, “We’re good then. Thanks, man.”

  “No problem, sir.”

  “Douglas?” Castle said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’ve told you to call me Castle, please.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Castle, sir,” Douglas answered. “It was very nice meeting you, Miss. Goodnight, sir,” he said before heading to go out back again.

  I looked at Castle and laughed when I saw him shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I’ve known him over four years, he could be my dad, yet he still insists on being so formal with me.”

  I shrugged. “He’s such a nice guy. Probably how he was brought up. Is his son that nice?”

  “He is unless you’re facing him on the field.” He chuckled then asked, “Would you like some wine? I’m, uh, cooking spaghetti bolognese, so I’ve got several reds to choose from.”

  “I’ll take a cabernet sauvignon, if you’ve got it,” I replied.

  “Of course,” he said, opening a door and going down the steps into what I supposed was a wine cellar.

  Holy damn.

  When he came back up, he went to a drawer and pulled out a winged corkscrew and opened it. “I guess I should’ve asked if you eat meat before I made dinner, huh?” He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and poured, handing me mine.

  I took a drink of the delicious wine and shared, “Total meat eater here, so it’s all good.”

  We stood there in silence after he took a sip, me looking around at his fabulous house and him watching me look at his fabulous house.

  He finally broke the quiet. “We need to talk.”

  I frowned. “About?”

  “About that horrendous hoodie you have on.”

  I laughed. “Sorry. I was being kinda ornery, aka a jerk, I guess.”

  Setting his glass on the island, he held his finger up before going to the mudroom where I heard a cab
inet open and close. When he came back into the kitchen, he had another hoodie in his hands which he held up to reveal his team’s mascot. “When in Rome.” He tossed it to me and eyebrows raised, waited.

  There was a beat before I caught on and conceded, “You want me to put it on?”

  He pursed his lips giving me a dramatic look as he gazed around the kitchen exaggeratedly. My eyes followed his only to see a shit-ton of things bearing his team’s logo and mascots—a calendar, magnets on the fridge, dishes, plaques and several trophies in a glass cupboard. “Oh.” As I pulled my hoodie off, I disclosed, “I really am a fan. I just like this team too.”

  Closing his eyes and looking pained, he put his hand over his heart and dropped his chin to his chest as if disappointed. Then raising his head to look at me, he shared, “Did you even see our games against them this year?” I bit my lip and shook my head somberly then laughed when he bugged his eyes out at me as if I’d committed the worse sin ever. “Gimme that.” He seized the hoodie from my hands and walking toward the oven, announced, “We’re burning it.”

  “No!” I cried, giggling as I took it back from him. I then folded it and put it on the chair where I’d set my purse.

  “You wouldn’t want me coming into your bakery with a bagful of goodies from, say Baked and Wired, would you?” I narrowed my eyes watching him open the oven to check on the food. Upon turning and seeing my sour face, he concluded, “I thought not.” He winked at me again and I felt my stomach flutter. Yeesh. “Would you like me to show you around?” he asked.

  “Yes! I’d love that,” I blurted, because I truly was curious about this humongo house of his, and saw my excitement made him grin and flash his straight pearly whites.

  He reached for my hand but curled his away at the last second acting as if he were stretching his arm, and I realized he was as wary about things as I was. Had he been hurt too and was now just as cautious as I was? Many questions raised here.

  He ordered, “Follow me,” and I did just that as he walked me around the enormous island. When he stopped, he revealed, “This is the kitchen.”