Free The Wedding Bet by Cupideros Page B

have a good mind to—”
    “Challenge me to a duel.” PR Man snapped. “I teach that as well at the Renaissance Festival every spring.”
    Hector slowly backed away and retreated into the crowd.
    “I heard a rumor some strange knight from out of town arrived. I couldn’t let you be swept off your feet.” PR Man started in, his stock expression ever present.
    “PR Man,” I smiled. “You—were!”
    “I was!” He spun me about not worrying about my sprained arm.
    “Be careful of my arm,” I said as he slowly pulled me close to him and the music stopped. “Quickly over to the yellow zone,” as I nudged him to the refreshment stands.
    “There you are,” said Olivia. “I see you’ve managed to meet someone handsome and charming on your own. I might as well forget about the date I had in mind for you. He runs a catering business in New York City. He is looking for help.”
    I never turned down an opportunity to talk shop, “Where is he?” I asked, as PR Man’s strained smiled formed on his lips.
    “You rather go with someone capable of buying you out then continue building up your own business?” He replied.
    “Relax PR Man. Olivia Swanson meet my Public Relations specialist. He’s going to make sure I don’t get married by the end of the year.” I looked around. “Now where is that New York catering giant?”
    “Nice to meet you—” Olivia started speaking.
    “Steve Laferte. She calls me that out of habit.”
    “Must make being romantic difficult, Steve.”
    “On the contrary, it solidifies our professional relationship.”
    “This year, Megan, promised to reconsider all professional relationships!” Olivia smiled.
    I turned back around. After flashing my beguiling, disarming cheek to cheek smile, I replied quietly, “I assure you I am not sleeping with my clients just so you can get me married off, Olivia!”
    PR Man and Olivia laughed.
    “You know what I meant!” Olivia said, and pouring a drink of punch and handing it to me. “See Megan, the yellow zone isn’t so safe after all. And hiring Steve to protect you is nearly almost, breaking your agreement to at least try to think about marriage this year. You owe it to Cynthia.”
    I glanced at PR Man and he simply shrugged his broad strong shoulders.
    “Just because I hired someone who thinks like me to help me get married doesn’t mean I’ve violated our trust, Olivia Swanson—Friend.” Then I stormed off leaving her to talk with PR Man. I went outside hoping for a breath of fresh air when an old geezer, almost ninety said, “I saw your picture on the bus. Nice mug shot for a virgin bride!”
    “I’m no virgin.” I quipped, “Didn’t you see the condoms. I’m a slut.” And I stormed off with my fake sprained arm and got into my car and drove home.

 
     
    Chapter Five
     
     

August, 2012
     
    I walked around holding my cell phone as I tried to bake a cake. The man on the phone sounded sincere. He wanted to get to know me. Take me to dinner. I told him already I make dinners for a living. So that would be boring. Now he wanted to know if I seriously wanted to get married or not. “Right. See the bus advertisement is really a gag for a friend. She wants me to be married but I’m already a committed single person.”
    I dumped two cups of sugar into the cake batter. Then realized maybe that was too much sweetness for the sixty-year-old couple reliving their sixtieth wedding anniversary.
    “No. I am not a lesbian. I’m heterosexual woman who doesn’t believe in the feminine mystique. Betty Freidan. You know of her. No. Well...see...” I started stirring in the eggs when I realized today was blocked off in my electronic to-do list for answering personal ads. How this guy got my phone number baffled me. Of course, anyone can find anyone today over the Internet. “No. I don’t want you to watch me try lesbianism. I’m looking to get married not switch my gender identity!” I hung up the phone. I ripped off my banana