Don't Bet On It Read Free Page B

psyche — obviously to discern a number I’d find impressive enough to jump for. “One hundred.”
    My own eyes widened — couldn’t help myself. It would take at least a full week of cookie sales to generate anywhere near that much net cash.
    â€œHow extensive of a meeting would be involved for me to acquire this generous donation?”
    During his initial pause I figured he might be brassy enough to expect he could jump my bones for that much money, and I was braced to tell him off — loud and proper.
    â€œDinner again… tomorrow evening.”
    He’d aimed much lower than I’d expected but I was still indignant. “You think you can buy a date with me?” When I sputtered, it was louder than normal and nearby diners turned their heads — no doubt to see what kind of transaction was underway. “If you have to purchase a date for tomorrow night, just dangle your cash at a hooker.” My terminal word didn’t even faze him, even though I’d hissed it with appropriate disgust.
    â€œIf that’s what I wanted, I could easily find one for that amount in Nashville.” His blue eyes didn’t blink. “I’m not purchasing you and I don’t have cash anyway. It’s a gift card to the local hobby and craft store that I don’t need, but I know you could put it to good use for your students. To generate that much money selling popcorn or whatever, you’d waste a lot more time and effort than it requires to simply enjoy a pleasant meal with me.”
    He was right, absolutely correct. But it still seemed tawdry somehow. “Show me the gift card.”
    That made him blink. “Uh, I don’t carry it around with me, but I assure you I’ll figure out where I left it and bring it tomorrow for supper.”
    â€œWho gave it to you?” Five years before, I had flipped a coin whether to teach elementary kids or enter law school.
    â€œUh, my Aunt Hilda… who figured I could use some of that kind of stuff where I work.”
    I absolutely knew he was fibbing, but was pleased to see him back on his heels for a change. “So where would this theoretical supper happen to be?”
    Brett exhaled softly. “At the Ranch House Barbecue.”
    â€œAnd all I have to do for this hundred dollar card is show up and eat?”
    Those eyes again, reading my cerebrum. “I have only two stipulations: show up without your current hostility and give me an even chance to provide you an enjoyable meal experience.”
    He was right to nail my hostility, but I had every right to exhibit it. Duress is duress . I took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve been cold tonight because you took advantage of my situation to get me here. And I’m willing to drop some of the attitude if I don’t feel so manipulated.”
    â€œDon’t you feel manipulated when you have to waste weeks on fund raisers for less actual money to your own class than I’m turning over for almost no effort at all?”
    I reluctantly nodded.
    â€œThat’s the way my mom usually felt. She hated all those fund raisers. During her final years of teaching she just bought supplies out of her own pocket, which was a lot less costly in the long run.”
    As I took a final sip of my iced tea, I stared into his eyes over the brim of my plastic tumbler. Then I put down the beverage and folded my hands like Perryanna Mason. “You’d made up your mind to trick me into another date but hadn’t figured out how to do it until we got here. Plus, you fibbed about the card and Aunt Who’s-it, didn’t you?”
    When he smiled evenly, his blue eyes sparkled. “I really do have an Aunt Hilda.”
    â€œAnd you have no intention of responding to my other points, do you?”
    He continued his smile as he shook his head.
    â€œTherefore,” I said in my attorney’s summation voice, “you are obviously guilty of perjurious