Boom - Sabrina Stark Page 0,22

before asking, "So what's your connection to the house?"

The blonde – Waverly – answered on my behalf. "There is no connection. And she was just leaving."

"Actually," I said, "my grandparents owned the place." I turned and gave Waverly a pointed look as I continued. "If you want the truth, it's been in my family for generations."

At this, Waverly gave me a smile that looked more like a grimace. "How nice."

When I looked back to Landon, he was nodding again. "Interesting." Slowly, he turned and surveyed the lawn before turning back to ask, "So that's why you were mowing? To fix up the ol' homestead?"

It was a simple question. But the answer was obscenely complicated. Yes, family nostalgia had played a role in it. But I'd also been mowing out of misguided gratitude – to Brody of all people.

I mumbled, "Something like that."

"Right," he said. "So, how'd you like to join the team? Maybe do some consulting?"

I froze. Wait, what?

Chapter 14

Arden

The question caught me off guard. After a long, perplexed pause, I asked, "What kind of consulting?"

Landon pointed toward my grandparent's place. "You know they're fixing that up as part of the show, right?"

Boy, did I ever – now, anyway.

When I gave a silent nod, he continued, "And I know you've seen the show."

Yeah, me and the rest of the world. Against all logic, Blast was the network's number-one show of all time. Aside from the monster ratings, it had spawned countless memes, a cult-like following, and plenty of unique offers for the brothers – movie roles, cameos, endorsement opportunities, and even marriage proposals from multiple fans.

The whole thing was beyond crazy.

And yet, the brothers declined everything, unless it directly involved either the TV show or their tool company.

As far as the show itself, I was pretty sure that I'd seen all of the episodes. Multiple times. It wasn’t that I was a fan or anything. It was just that, well, I'd been curious, that's all.

Plus, I loved the whole remodeling thing. Seeing houses restored to their original beauty was oddly addicting, especially when I happened to know one of the stars.

I said, "I might've caught an episode or two."

"So tell me," Landon said. "Where are you working?"

"Sorry, what?"

"A job," he said. "You do have one, right?"

Oh, God. Talk about embarrassing. "No. Not really. I mean, I just graduated from college, so–."

"Perfect."

"What? Why is that perfect?"

"Because I'm thinking we can use a consultant, someone with a vested interest in seeing the place restored to its former glory and all that."

From my left, I swear I heard a gasp.

Apparently, Landon heard it too, because he looked to Waverly and said, "Is there something you want to say?"

But it wasn't Waverly who answered. It was Brody. In a deadly calm voice, he told Landon, "She's not interested."

I gave him an annoyed look. "I never said that."

Brody replied, "Yeah, but you will."

"Oh, so now you're a psychic."

With a low scoff, he said, "Better a psychic than a psycho."

I gave him the squinty-eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing that a lit match won't solve." His gaze hardened. "Isn't that right?"

"Oh, for God's sake," I said. "It wasn't a match. It was a lighter."

And the lighter wasn't even mine. It was Brody's. But that was an argument for another time – when I wasn't defending my own sanity.

I looked back to Landon and explained, "In high school, I accidentally set fire to Brody's truck."

"Accident, my ass," Brody said.

I whirled to face my high-school nemesis. "Oh yeah? And what about you? You practically blew us up."

Brody reached up to rub the back of his neck. "It wasn't that bad."

"Oh yeah?" My voice rose. "Tell that to my missing eyebrows."

He shrugged like this was no big deal. "Hey, they grew back."

"Not in time for graduation!"

It was true. In all of my senior pictures, there I was, with painted eyebrows, because my real eyebrows had gotten so singed, they were practically invisible.

On top of that, my perfect G.P.A. had been ruined by the fact that I'd not only failed my senior chemistry project, I'd been suspended for two whole weeks and wasn't allowed to make up all of my work.

One little boom – or more accurately one ginormous boom – and all of my plans went up in smoke.

Now, years later, I was still suffering the consequences.

As far as the boom itself, it was a huge miracle that no one had been seriously hurt. Against all odds, I hadn't been injured so much as made to look ridiculous. And