Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)(43)

“Who?” Anne Marie asked.

Barbie couldn’t tell her because she hadn’t told anyone about her attraction to Mark Bassett, the man in the wheelchair. She looked again, just to be sure. He was alone, or appeared to be, apparently waiting for the crowd to disperse. Maneuvering his wheelchair would be difficult with so many people pressing in around him.

“You know someone here?”

“Not really.” Barbie tried to calm the wild beating of her heart. This was an unexpected surprise, a bonus. She was pleased now that she’d taken care with her outfit and makeup.

If Mark had seen her—and she couldn’t tell either way—he refused to acknowledge her. 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.