Pitch Imperfect by Elise Alden

“Maybe Sarah Brunel is a confident woman who knows what she wants. Nothing wrong with that.”
    “She and Rob went out a few times last year. I heard it from one of Ben’s casuals. She said Sarah was like a bitch in heat, always turning up whenever Rob was around. Then she made a play for Ben, poor, deluded thing. Slept with her boss a few times, too, then it was back to Rob after that, but nobody knows if he took her up on it.” A probing look at Anjuli. “What do
you
think?”
    Anjuli crumpled the newspaper and glared at Ash. “None of my business. Tell me what they say about
me
.”
    “Easy. Everybody knows you bought that old wreck so you could hire Rob and woo him back to your fickle bosom.”
    Some questions should never be asked. “Oh, for God’s sake. Isn’t there anything else to talk about besides Rob, Sarah and me around here?”
    “Shit, no. The village hasn’t had this much fun in ages. A fiver of my cash says you’ll have Rob in your clutches by the Common Riding Ball. There’s a wager running down at the bookies and—”
    “What?” Heads turned at Anjuli’s squawk.
    Viking sidled past, winking. “Christmas he will be yours. Is good time for romance, aye?”
    Anjuli listened, aghast, while Viking and Ash discussed the other bets, laughing at some of them. Old Mr. Combe had wagered fifty pounds on the outcome, but he’d got it wrong and had her wooing a Douglas from Halton until his neighbour set him straight.
Ha
,
ha
,
ha and laugh
,
laugh
,
laugh.
How funny.
    “There will be no ‘wooing’ of anybody,” she said, as soon as Viking had gone.
    Ash grinned. “Skip over that part, then.”
    “I’m not in search of a husband.”
    “Jesus, lighten up, Babes. Who said anything about marriage? There’s loads of Heaverlock hotties around who can’t restore your house but can sure give you a thorough clean. And your nooks and crannies, sister mine, need a long, deep seeing to.”
    Anjuli huffed. “My nooks and crannies—”
    “Are like a granny’s. Let’s see, there’s Kenneth Baker, all grown up. Remember him? Quite shy, but such a sweetie. Only twenty-one and just broke up with his girlfriend, ripe for a fling with an older woman.”
    She gave Ash a quelling look. “Boy toys are passé.”
    “Nick Haddington is a bit older than us but maybe too serious for you. Cups of tea in front of the TV and early nights, but I hear he knows how to keep a woman warm in the winter.”
    “It’s spring.”
    Ash waggled her eyebrows. “He’s got the salt-and-pepper ménage á deux down pat.”
    “Salt and pepper whatta?”
    “His—” Ash broke off to stare at the man who’d just walked in. So did a lot of other women, gazes fixed on the blond’s lean, athletic body as he approached the bar. Dressed casually, in a dark green T-shirt and jeans that moulded to his bulge, it wasn’t hard to guess exactly what had drawn their attention.
    “Dr. Mitchell, the vet I told you about,” Ash whispered. “He likes ’em juicy so you’re in with a chance. From what I hear he’s insatiable.”
    Well, he could be starving for all she cared, she was in no danger of feeding his appetite with her extra padding. Nevertheless, she sucked in her gut. One should never slouch at work. It’s lazy, not to mention bad for your posture.
    “Damien,” Ash said, accepting his kiss on the cheek. She gave Anjuli an innocent look. “This is my sister, Anjuli, and she’s in
dire
need.”
    What would the villagers say if she strangled their publican? “I have a stray dog.”
    He leaned into the bar. “And where have
you
been, gorgeous?” he said, Irish lilt teasing.
    “All your life?”
    “No, but the rest of it will do fine.”
    Well, he was definitely Irish Cheddar, but with a self-mocking smile that said he was laughing at himself more than hitting on her.
    Anjuli tried to look stern. “If you’re Dr. Damien Mitchell, I’ve been warned you become dangerous after prolonged contact.”
    “We could keep