Take a Chance on Me

Chapter Five



Maddie pressed two fingers to her throbbing temple and blinked against the morning light straining her eyes. Food and coffee, both of which would do wonders for her hangover, waited downstairs, but she wasn’t quite ready to face Mitch Riley yet.

Instead, her life tugged at her. An incessant pull of guilt had her gaze drifting time and again to the old-fashioned telephone sitting on a secretary’s desk. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, even with the painted flower detail work chipped away.

She turned to stare out the window at the yard below, mentally landscaping the unkempt grounds beneath. With a little work, it would be gorgeous. Even now, weeping willows and wild flowers swayed in the gentle summer breeze, creating an idyllic view. Oak and maple trees well over a hundred years old lined the grass. Peeking through the leaves was a river, lazily moving downstream. It was so picture perfect that an urge to draw the scene stole through her, surprising her. She hadn’t drawn or painted anything since her dad died when she was fifteen.

At the thought of her father, her gaze jerked to the phone. It worked. She’d checked last night and even considered using it, but she hadn’t. She needed to call her family and let them know she was alive and safe. But every time she thought about calling, her stomach rolled.

She loved them and wanted to do the right thing, but if she called now, they’d convince her to come home. Her mom would cry, and Steve would tell her how irrational she was being, and Shane would take over. By the time she hung up, her shoulders would be tense. Her belly would be coiled tight with guilt. She’d fall all over herself trying to make them happy, and somehow, what she wanted would end up sounding ridiculous and silly.

That wasn’t an option. She refused to have her freedom snatched away before she’d even had a chance to experience it. After one short night, the knot of tension she’d been carrying around for as long as she could remember had eased—not a lot, but enough for her to recognize the difference. Enough for her to know she wasn’t ready to leave.

The simple solution was to call her best friends. Penelope and Sophie wouldn’t judge her. Maddie could kill two birds with one stone—inform her family she was safe and alleviate some of her guilt.

She’d try Penelope first. Penelope Watkins was all cool efficiency and grace under pressure. Her brother called her the “Iron Fist.” Unlike Maddie, who had a faux, sister-to-the-boss job, Penelope was integral to Shane’s business. If someone wanted access to Shane, they had to get through Penelope first. Naturally, she was the logical choice to keep the family at bay for a while longer.


Maddie walked to the bed and sat down. On impulse, she blocked the number before dialing her oldest girlfriend’s cell. After half a ring, Penelope came on the line with a clipped, “Hello.”

Maddie twisted the cord around her finger and whispered, “Are you alone?”

“Maddie, thank God,” Penelope said, although her tone held no harried urgency. “Where are you?”

Maddie darted a nervous glance around the room, irrationally worried that her brothers would jump out from behind the lace curtains. “I’m fine. Are you alone?”

“Sophie’s here,” Penelope said. “Are you sure you’re okay? Everyone has been crazy with worry. Your mom is in hysterics, Shane’s popping antacid like it’s candy, and the rest of the clan is pacing the floors like caged lions.”

Maddie heard Sophie Kincaid’s urgent “Where is she, where is she?” in the background.

Penelope’s voice grew distant. “Geez, give me five seconds to find out.”

Maddie’s chest tightened, and she wished she hadn’t called. She didn’t want to think about home and reality.

“Where are you?” Penelope asked again. “We’re worried. Do you need help?”

“I’m okay,” Maddie said. “Can you let them know?”

Silence. Maddie could picture Penelope standing there, completely put together, not a hair out of place. She’d always been like that even when they’d been in kindergarten, with her pressed Catholic uniform and black patent leather shoes so shiny that Maddie had been able to see her reflection.

“You’re not going to call?” Her friend’s quiet question pulled Maddie out of her thoughts.

“Please, I don’t want to talk to them. I can’t.”

“Hey,” Penelope said, her voice softening. “It’s okay—I’ll take care of it. Tell us what you want us to do.”

“Tell them I’m okay.” Maddie wrapped the telephone cord around her fingers until they pulsed from lack of blood. “Tell them I’m sorry, and I’m safe.”

In the background, Sophie said, “Let me talk to her.”

“In a minute,” Penelope said, with her tone calm and soothing. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can’t believe you ran away and didn’t tell us.”

“I left a note,” Maddie said, lamely.

“Did something happen with Steve?”

Maddie shook her head even though Penelope couldn’t see her. “No, nothing happened. I don’t know. I was sitting there by myself, feeling like I wanted to throw up. And I knew. Knew it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Pen, I don’t feel the way I should.” Maddie’s voice cracked as her eyes filled with tears. “Does everyone hate me?”

“How can you even think that?” Penelope said sharply. “I only wish I’d known how unhappy you were.”

“I’m sorry.” Maddie brushed away the wet tracks on her cheeks. “Everyone loves Steve. He’s perfect.”

“No. We love you. We tolerated him.”

“But all he’s done for me—”

Penelope cut her off. “You were fifteen; it’s time you stopped doing penance. And just because he was nice and helped you doesn’t mean you have to marry him.”

“My mom—”

“She’ll get over it.” Penelope mumbled something under her breath that Maddie couldn’t hear. “It’s your life.”

Maddie pressed a finger to her throbbing temple. She didn’t want to think about Steve right now. “Tell them I’m sorry, okay?”

“I will. What about money?” Penelope asked. Forever practical, she was probably already opening a spreadsheet to compile a runaway-bride to-do list. “Do you need any? I could wire some to you.”

Yes! Maddie’s mind screamed, but then she’d have to say where she was and for some reason, she couldn’t. Not even to her best friends. Wire transfers were traceable, and Shane had connections everywhere. “I’ll get by.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“At least tell me where I can reach you.” There was rustling in the background, as Penelope probably got out her trusty notebook.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The background noise stopped, and quiet fell over the line. Several beats passed before Penelope said, “You know I’ll never tell anyone.”

“Yeah, I do,” Maddie said. Her friends had always had her back and always would. “But you know how my brothers are.”

Penelope let out a huff. “Point taken.”

A laugh bubbled up, surprising Maddie.

“Okay,” Penelope said, her manner taking on a businesslike tone that always made everyone sit up and take notice. “On one condition: you have to call either Sophie or me every day and check in. Deal?”

Maddie smiled. “Deal.”

“Good,” Penelope said. “Call tomorrow or I swear to God I’ll sic Shane on you. Don’t make me play dirty.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Maddie watched the dial on the clock click over. “Put Sophie on.”

“If you need anything at all, you let me know, right?”

“I will,” Maddie swore. “Until tomorrow.”

“Good. Here’s Sophie.”

A few seconds later, Sophie came on the line.

“I didn’t know you still had it in you!” Sophie’s excited voice instantly made Maddie feel better. They’d met in junior high and developed an instant bond over teenage rebellion. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Maddie said, and actually, she thought it might be true.

“I’m so proud of you.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Maddie’s mouth. “I’m glad you approve.”

“It’s about time. I’ve missed the old Maddie,” Sophie said. “I knew he wasn’t right for you. Sure, he seems like the perfect guy, but I couldn’t stand how he always corrected you.”

Maddie frowned. “You never said anything.”

Sophie huffed. “I wasn’t about to badmouth your boyfriend, and you always talked about how much he did for you. It’s not like he was doing anything outright nasty or mean that I could point my finger at. I’m happy you finally got fed up and bailed.”

“Thank you.” It was the only thing Maddie could think of to say.

“I only wish I was with you so we could go on a Thelma and Louise road trip.”

Maddie laughed, remembering all the times they’d watched the movie, drooling over a young Brad Pitt. “I think I need to go on my own road trip and figure out who the hell I am.”

“I understand, but promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you meet a hot guy along the way, you have to tell me every last detail.”

“Sophie!” Maddie’s cheeks heated as she instantly thought of Mitch, the hot guy right downstairs. She pressed her lips together, fighting the sudden urge to confess. Sophie had always had that effect on her, never letting Maddie forget the girl she used to be before she’d gone down the virtuous path.

Maddie heard Penelope’s voice in the background and Sophie snorted. “I’m getting the reprimand.”

The clock on the nightstand clicked through another minute. “Soph, I need to go. But I’ll call you guys tomorrow.”


“Promise?”

“Promise.” Maddie gently hung up the phone and hugged herself. The T-shirt Mitch had given her to sleep in smelled of him: that curious mix of soap and man, with a hint of danger.

Last night, on what was supposed to have been her wedding night, she hadn’t been thinking of her abandoned groom. She hadn’t been thinking of God, or hell, or how horrible she was, like a decent person would. No, she’d spent a good hour staring at the cracks in the ceiling, having wayward, illicit thoughts about Mitch Riley. Thinking about what would have happened if their conversation had continued. Or even if she’d let the dress fall to the ground.

This stranger who’d invaded her thoughts and preoccupied her body had made her forget all about the good thing and remember what it was like to be bad.

And now she had to face him.





Halfway down the stairs, she heard the murmur of voices. Unable to make out what they were saying, Maddie could hear enough to know that one of them was female.

She faltered and stumbled. Screeching, she caught herself on the banister and clutched it like a long-lost lover. Pulse slowing to a reasonable rate, she regained her footing and cast a prayer of thanks at the ceiling that she hadn’t tumbled the rest of the way down. The last thing she needed was another grand entrance. Feet firmly planted on the ground, she let go of the railing and brushed a tangled lock of hair from one eye.

“Maddie.” Mitch’s voice right underneath her sent her pulse racing all over again.

She let out another yelp, hand flying to her chest. If she stayed in this house much longer she’d drop dead from a heart attack.

“What?” she snapped.

One glance at him and the pounding in her head grew. Curse him. It was completely unfair that she looked like something pulled from a pile of trash, while he looked like that.

Pure sin standing in the golden light of the sun.

Yesterday he’d been gorgeous, but this morning he was downright devastating in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. Shaved clean of yesterday’s stubble, his chiseled features were highlighted to perfection.

Not in the mood to be reasonable, she glared at him. Some part of her had harbored a tiny shred of hope that she could blame her attraction, and subsequent behavior, on the whiskey.

But, no, he had to go blow that theory straight to hell.

He smirked. “Does someone have a hangover?”

“No,” she said in a loud whisper, shaking her head with vehemence and setting jackhammers off against her temples. “I’m not dressed for company.”

“I heard you scream. What happened?”

For the love of god, must she be tested at every turn? She tilted her chin and said in her most haughty tone, “If you must know, I almost fell down the stairs.”

Faster than a man his size should move, he rounded the stairs and bounded up the steps two at a time, stopping when he stood one below her. Of course, she still had to peer up at him, irritating her further.

“Are you okay?” he asked, those golden eyes warm with concern.

“I’m fine.” She straightened to her full five-three, but still felt small and dowdy next to him.

“You’re not hurt?”

“For God’s sake, I’m fine. It was just a little stumble.”

He chuckled, the deep, rich timbre sending tingles down her spine. “And here I thought you wouldn’t be any fun sober.”

Her mouth fell open, indignation bubbling in her throat, but before she could speak, he held out a plastic grocery bag that she hadn’t seen because she’d been too busy staring at his face. “My neighbor brought you some things she thought you might need.”

Forgetting her momentary agitation and the pounding in her head, she took the bag. “That was very thoughtful.”

Mitch grinned. “Don’t let Gracie fool you—she’s here for gossip.”

Curious, Maddie opened the bag and sighed with pure pleasure. Inside were a variety of female essentials and—Maddie closed her eyes in thanks—clothes. She had clothes! She rummaged around, spotting a toothbrush, toothpaste, a trial-size moisturizer, and face wash. She shifted the contents around, unearthing shampoo and conditioner, and even a miniature bottle of hairspray.

And then, in the bottom of the bag was the best present of all—a pair of flip-flops.

She’d never be stuck in those torturous shoes ever again. Should she set them on fire? Maybe hack them up with a saw? Maybe she’d do both. Or was that overkill?

Maddie clutched the bag to her chest and said, reverently, “I don’t care what she’s here for, I will owe her forever.”

“Yeah, she has that kind of effect on people.” Mitch’s wry tone was tinged with amusement. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get yourself dressed, then you can meet her. She’s chomping at the bit, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get rid of her. Short of me picking her up and throwing her out on her ass, she’s not leaving.”

Maddie was so happy, so thankful, that she had an impulse to kiss Mitch full on the lips. Since that would be a terrible idea, she pressed the bag of treasures tighter to her chest. “Thank you.”

Mitch grinned and tugged a lock of her hair. “Don’t thank me, Princess. I had nothing to do with it.” He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “If I had my way, I’d have kept you naked for as long as possible.”

A hot flush crawled up her neck and she jerked back. “Oh!”

He chuckled. “Go get dressed, Maddie.”





Fifteen minutes later, she bounded downstairs with a new lease on life. The bag of goodies had set off something inside her and renewed her sense of purpose. Yesterday, she’d had no plan. She’d been in panic mode, pure and simple. But being stranded without money, clothes, and modern conveniences had forced her to realize the truth. She hadn’t been running away; she’d been running toward freedom. This disaster had pushed her from the nest—she’d either fight for it and fly, or fall to the ground with a splat.

But the choice was hers.

Wearing clothes two sizes too big, her hair in a ponytail and her face scrubbed free of makeup, she’d never felt better or more alive. Upstairs, pulling on the pair of jean shorts and powder-blue tee, she’d decided to tackle one problem at a time and not worry about the big picture.

First order of business: food and coffee.

Since she smelled a fresh pot, this should be easy to check off the list. She pushed into the kitchen, sucking in the scent of caffeine goodness, and froze.

The swinging door whipped back and forth on its hinges, hitting her once in the butt before settling into place.

Maddie blinked, stunned speechless. Talk about false advertising.

Maddie had assumed his neighbor was an elderly, meddling busybody with a heart of gold. The woman propped against the blue-and-white-checked tiled counter was a freakin’ sex goddess.

“Maddie Donovan,” Mitch said from somewhere off to her left. “Meet my neighbor, Gracie Roberts.”

Maddie blinked again, staring at the woman with curves so lush they should be illegal. This was his neighbor? She tried to reconcile perception with reality, but it was too difficult.

Finally, she realized she was standing there openmouthed like a complete idiot, and remembered her manners. “Thank you for your generosity. You have no idea how grateful I am.”

“Oh, believe me, honey, it’s my pleasure.” Cornflower-blue eyes twinkling, Gracie put the coffee cup she’d held onto the counter. With a careless swipe of her hand, she pushed a wayward sunshine-blonde curl back from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “I’ve been dying to meet you ever since my brother, Sam, told me about your ordeal last night.”


Completely confused, Maddie darted a questioning glance over at Mitch.

Casual as could be, he hooked one ankle over the other, drawing her attention to his bare feet. “Sam’s my bartender. He was sitting in the corner booth last night.”

Maddie nodded, remembering the good-looking blond surfer type who had been watching them.

Gracie grinned from ear to ear, her full mouth a pale, glossy pink. “Well, my brother said Mitch pounced on you like a prisoner granted his first conjugal visit. So I had to see what all the fuss was about.”

Maddie had no idea what to say, but she was pretty sure the heat infusing her face made her look guilty, which was ridiculous. She willed her cheeks to cool. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Last night had been perfectly innocent. Sure, she’d had a few impure thoughts, but geez, everyone had those.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Mitch’s words held no heat, just good-natured exasperation. He shook his head at Maddie. “Don’t mind her, Princess. She has no control over her mouth.”

“Look at him, all protective.” Gracie gave Mitch a slow once-over. “That’s new.”

That earned her a menacing look from Mitch. “You can go home now.”

Gracie laughed, a full-bodied, throaty sound. “Not on your life.”

“I’ve thrown you out before,” Mitch said, putting his own coffee mug down on the counter as if preparing to do just that. “I’ll do it again.”

Maddie kept quiet, observing the interaction between them. There couldn’t be anything romantic between them, since even the most enlightened woman wouldn’t be this cool about a boyfriend bringing a strange woman home. That left friends, which, in some ways, was harder to believe.

How could any man have platonic thoughts about Gracie Roberts?

She wasn’t exactly Hollywood beautiful. More, she was jaw-droppingly cute mixed with downright sexy. Like Mary Ann and Ginger rolled into one drool-worthy package.

Gracie vaulted off the counter and planted her hands on full hips encased in a pair of jeans so low and tight that Maddie couldn’t figure how they stayed up. “Is that the thanks I get for coming to your rescue?”

“I didn’t need a rescue,” Mitch said, tossing a sly glance at Maddie. “I was doing fine without you.”

Maddie cleared her throat. “Well, I do appreciate the clothes.”

“Of course you do,” Gracie huffed. “He’d have kept you naked like a complete Neanderthal.”

“I was taking care of her. Wasn’t I, Maddie?”

Both of them looked at her. Having grown up in a household where these types of arguments had been a daily occurrence, Maddie wanted to protest the “taking care” comment, but decided that this wasn’t the time. Instead, she smiled calmly. “Yes, if it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be stranded in my car. And you were very . . . um, kind last night.” Before she could think too much about the orgasms they’d been discussing, she turned her smile toward Gracie. “But I can’t deny the essentials you gave me are a godsend.”

“See, I told you she needed those things.” Gracie’s expression held pure victory.

Mitch scrubbed a hand over his newly smooth jaw. “Yeah, you did.”

A smug, sly expression crossed Gracie’s features. “And I brought homemade treats.”

At the mere mention of food, Maddie’s stomach growled. She shrugged at Mitch. “She wins.”

“She usually does.” He sighed, shaking his head, but Maddie didn’t miss the amusement gleaming in his eyes. The amusement changed to heat as his gaze caught hers, pinning her to the spot. A reminder, without words, that he hadn’t forgotten last night. A warning not to forget he wasn’t harmless. His attention dropped to her mouth, lingered, and then rose again to meet her unblinking stare. “I’ll get the plates.”

He pushed off the counter and the spell broke. Flustered, she wiped her palms on her shorts, then smoothed her ponytail and turned to find Gracie watching her with avid curiosity. Maddie willed herself not to blush, and said, “Thanks again for the clothes.”

“Honestly, it was nothing.” Gracie surveyed Maddie and snorted, waving her hand up and down, making her Playboy-worthy breasts jiggle in a red tee with the words MIDWEST FARM GIRL sprawled across it. “Sam said you were tiny, so I scrounged in my closet looking for the smallest clothes I had. Those shorts you’re swimming in haven’t made it past my hips since practically the sixth grade,” Gracie said, her lower lip puffing out. “It’s so unfair.”

Before Maddie could stop herself, she blurted, “You’re not expecting me to feel sorry for you, are you?”

Horrified, Maddie covered her mouth.

Three mismatched plates in hand, Mitch roared with laughter, drawing a surprised glance from Gracie before she joined in.

“I’m sorry,” Maddie said, talking over the two of them laughing like a couple of hyenas.

“Don’t be. She deserves it,” Mitch said, the laughter dying to a chuckle.

“My only excuse is I haven’t had any coffee yet, and you’re . . .” Maddie waved a hand. “Not what I expected.”

Gracie eyed Mitch with a sniff. “Mitch always makes me sound like a pain in the ass.”

“You are a pain in the ass,” Mitch said, putting down the plates in the center of a worn kitchen table. “Do you want coffee, Maddie?”

“That’d be great,” Maddie said. “Point me in the right direction.”

“You sit.” Mitch’s tone was laced with the “obey me” command that both raised her hackles and sent a peculiar jolt of heat through her lower belly.

“I got it,” Gracie said, pointing to an empty seat and gesturing for Maddie to sit. “How do you take it?”

Maddie nibbled on her bottom lip and contemplated kicking up a fuss at their bossiness, but decided against it. It wasn’t worth the hassle. She needed to sit anyhow, because her abused feet certainly couldn’t handle standing to make a silly point. So, like a good little girl, she pulled out the chair and sat. “I take it black, thank you.”

A moment later, a steaming cup of coffee sat in front of her. She wrapped her hands around the mug and sucked in the strong scent. She’d never smelled anything so delicious in her life. She took a sip, savoring the rich flavor.

A pink bakery box with the words DESSERTS DIVINE in black scroll writing slid into her line of vision and her stomach gave another growl. Mouth watering, she envisioned what treat might be waiting for her. Maybe God didn’t hate her after all. If he did, wouldn’t he design a better punishment than homemade baked goods?

She smiled at Gracie, who slid into the chair next to her. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble on my account.”

“Not at all,” Gracie said, running her finger through the seam of the box and flipping open the lid. “In fact, you’re doing me a favor. This is a new experiment, and I always need taste testers.”

Mitch sat down across from her with a wide smile on his face. “How are you feeling this morning, Princess?”

Maddie nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Not too hungover?” He stretched his long legs under the table and leaned back in his chair. Maddie did her best to ignore the way his black T-shirt pulled tight over his flat abdomen.


“Nothing coffee and food won’t cure,” Maddie said, taking another sip as though to prove her point.

“Well, we’ve got that covered.” Gracie slid a golden concoction sprinkled with powdered sugar from the bakery box. “It’s Swedish flop. But I infused some raspberry into the cream.”

Out of nowhere, Maddie’s throat closed over and she had to blink back sudden, unexpected tears. Teeth clenched, she stared at the flaky pastry, which was overflowing with pink-tinged buttercream.

She hadn’t had Swedish flop in thirteen years. It had been a Sunday-morning tradition that ended when her dad died.

She remembered every detail of their last Sunday together. The sound of her dad’s voice as it echoed through the house. The whole family around the table. The laughter. Her brothers, happy and carefree. Her mom singing “Leader of the Pack” along with the oldies station.

A totally different life, belonging to a girl she’d almost forgotten.

“Maddie?” Mitch’s voice, filled with concern, pulled her to the present. “Are you okay?”

The unexpected memory triggered the grief. The guilt. Throat tight, she gripped her mug and looked away from the cake. She needed a moment to pull herself together and then she’d be fine. She managed to grit out, “Great. Bathroom?”

Silence.

Maddie pressed her lips together and stared into the brown liquid swirling in her mug, praying he wouldn’t press. Unshed tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. All she needed was one minute alone to compose herself. Just one minute.

“Down the hall on the right,” he said, each word slow and deliberate.

Maddie nodded, pushed back her chair, and escaped.





Mitch stared after his runaway bride, wishing he could peer inside her brain and figure out what the hell had happened, but she remained as much a mystery to him as she had last night. Dragging a hand through his hair, he frowned at Gracie.

She pressed her lips together. “What set her off?”

“I have no idea,” Mitch said, turning his attention to the pastry Gracie had brought. Maddie had looked at it as though she’d seen a ghost.

“I like her,” Gracie said, the questions as clear as if she’d spoken them.

Mitch gave the woman he’d come to think of as a sister a level-eyed stare, keeping his mouth shut.

Gracie tilted her head to the side, sending her mop of blond curls flying. “How are you going to keep her?”

“She lives in Chicago. I’m not keeping her.” He was temporarily borrowing her until she decided to hightail it to her real life.

She gave a smug smile. “I meant keep her for now.”

Mitch scrubbed a hand over his jaw, contemplating. “I’m not sure she has any other options.”

“Don’t tell me you’re banking on that?” Gracie looked up to the ceiling as if exasperated by his complete stupidity. “A woman always has options, and she’ll think of plenty if you’re stupid enough to point out that she has to choose you by default.”

Of course, Gracie was right.

But he’d talked her into staying once; he could do it again. The question was, how? Mitch sat forward, placing his elbows on the table, his brain starting a slow, methodical spin. He took a sip of coffee and looked at Gracie. She practically danced in her chair.

He rolled his eyes. “What’s on your mind?”

“The way I see it,” Gracie said, not letting grass grow under her feet with any long dramatic silences, “her car’s broken down, and Tommy’s is closed today. That buys you a couple of days.”

Immediately finding fault with her logic, Mitch shook his head. “Not necessarily. She has family. She could come to her senses and call them, and be gone by noon.” Just because she’d been adamant last night about not contacting them didn’t mean her justifications would hold true in the light of day.

“I don’t think so.” Gracie peered behind him, looking thoughtful.

“She told me she has no money.” Mitch pressed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The more he thought about it, the more he saw it as the most likely outcome. He’d only been able to convince her to come back to his house last night because she’d been tired, scared, and drunk. “There’s no way she’ll take any from me. What other option is there?”

“One little hitch and you’re giving up?” Gracie’s gaze raked over him, her lip curled in disgust. She started to speak, but her expression cleared as he heard the door swing open behind him. “Hey, we were talking about your car.”

Maddie slid onto her chair, all her focus on the bakery box. “I’m not sure I’m ready to tackle that problem on an empty stomach.” Her tone was light, even breezy, but Mitch thought he detected the sounds of strain underneath.

“Let me get you a piece.” Gracie jumped from the table and moved to the drawer of kitchen knives.

Mitch studied Maddie, who fidgeted in her chair but refused to look at him. What was going on in that brain of hers? With Gracie here, making her presence known, he was unable to reestablish the connection they’d had last night. With every second, Maddie felt farther out of his grasp. He didn’t like it.

It surprised him to realize he gave a shit.

He didn’t know how, but in less than twelve hours Maddie had slipped past his defenses. He continued to watch her as Gracie moved around the kitchen doing God knew what.

Even if he managed to talk her into staying, then what? Her life was a mess. She was a mess. And what did he hope to gain?

Maybe it was best to let her go. It wasn’t giving up. It was being smart.

Maddie darted a nervous glance in his direction. Her green eyes were bright. Too bright. He frowned. She’d been crying. He leaned closer to her, reaching across the table to close the gap between them. His thumb stroking her hand, he asked, “Are you all right, Maddie?”

The muscles in her neck worked as she swallowed. “Sure, I’m great.”

Before he could press, Gracie butted in and plopped a plate down in front of Maddie with about half of the cake. She pulled her hand away from him and her fingers traced the faded, blue flowered porcelain edge. “Thank you, this looks delicious.”

Mitch glowered at Gracie, mentally listing the different ways he could wring her neck.

Maddie looked around the table, auburn brows drawing together. “Where can I find a fork?”

Gracie gasped, placing a hand dramatically over her ample chest. “You don’t eat Swedish flop with a fork. Silverware ruins the texture.”

“I see.” Amusement replaced the shadows in Maddie’s eyes, and as the smile tugged those strawberry-stained lips, Mitch’s irritation with Gracie evaporated. “Well, then, I guess I’ll eat it with my hands.”

Her small, delicate finger swiped at the pink-tinged cream spilling from the flaky crust. She raised it to her mouth. Licked.

Jesus. He raked a hand through his hair and tried to think about baseball as Maddie picked up the pastry and flicked her tongue over the frosting spilling from the sides.

He gritted his teeth, his cock hardening as though he were f*cking sixteen.

Oblivious to his predicament, Maddie took a bite, moaning in pure pleasure. When she’d finished chewing, she looked adoringly at Gracie. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Gracie beamed. “I knew I was going to like you.”


Mitch dragged his mind from the gutter and said the first thing that popped into his brain. “I had your car towed this morning.”

The slice of Swedish flop stalled halfway to Maddie’s mouth. She slowly lowered it to the plate. “Did you pay for it?”

He shook his head and lied through his teeth. “No. The guy who owns the garage is a friend—he owed me a favor. It was nothing.”

The corners of Maddie’s mouth tightened. Eyes narrowed, she met his gaze in a good old-fashioned stare-down. Leaning back in his chair, he gave her his best lazy grin. He’d played this game his whole life: she could scrutinize him all day and he’d never break.

“What kind of favor?” Maddie asked. Her tone was filled with doubt.

“I drew up a will for him and his wife,” Mitch said, coolly.

“I thought you were a bartender now?”

Mitch shrugged. “What’s a little legal work among friends?”

None of the distrust cleared from Maddie’s face. She opened her mouth, presumably to grill him some more, but before she could speak, Gracie cleared her throat. “I can vouch for him, I was the witness.”

It didn’t surprise him that Gracie had picked up his lie and run with it: that was how she was. He might not understand why she was invested in having Maddie stay, but he was grateful.

“So you didn’t pay for the tow?” Maddie asked.

“No.” He didn’t have the slightest compunction about lying. He’d learned enough about her last night to know that being taken care of rubbed her the wrong way, and paying the tow fee didn’t help his case. If she was determined to leave, he couldn’t stop her, but he sure as hell didn’t want her decision made because of money.

Maddie’s head tilted to the side, sending her long ponytail waving. With her hair pulled back and her face free of makeup, she looked about eighteen.

“How much did you charge an hour?” Maddie asked. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You will not,” he said, his tone taking on a decided edge. “I had no out-of-pocket expenses and you do not owe me one cent.”

“But your time—I insist.” Maddie’s expression took on a decidedly stubborn edge he’d already learned to recognize.

“No.” As if he had a right to the final say.

She strummed her manicured nails on the table, her wheels spinning as she stared off to a spot over his left shoulder.

Gracie nudged him under the table, then jutted her chin toward Maddie.

He shook his head.

She scowled and kicked him.

Ignoring her, he moved his calf out of the line of fire. Instinct told him that it was better to let Maddie think it through than talk her into his way.

Fifteen seconds passed before Maddie straightened in her chair and shifted her attention to him. “As you know,” she said, her tone taking on a professional quality as though she were about to give a presentation, “my funds are rather . . . limited at the moment.”

Mitch nodded seriously, pressing his lips together to repress his smile. Damn, she was cute.

“However,” Maddie continued, her chin tilting even higher, “I will write you a check for your time and trouble when I return home. How much did you charge an hour?”

Mitch scrubbed his jaw with his hand, contemplating. While he wanted to argue, he decided that letting her win this round helped his overall strategy. He’d never cash the check anyway, so there was no point in the debate. His lips quirked. “I charged four hundred dollars an hour.”

She blanched, her skin turning a shade whiter. “Oh, well, I can see why you’d leave that behind. It must have been horrible to make that kind of money.”

He laughed. If she only knew. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gracie looking at him with avid speculation. “You asked, Princess.”

“Yes, I did.” Maddie blew out a breath. “Let’s back up—how much does your friend charge to tow a car?”

“Only about a hundred bucks,” Gracie chirped helpfully.

One-fifty was more like it, but Mitch wasn’t about to volunteer the information.

Maddie’s gaze narrowed. “Okay, so that’s a hundred for the tow, and I’ll call and find out the going rate at the motel. There’s food.” She turned to Gracie. “Then there’s the stuff you gave me. I’d better get a pen and paper and start a tab.”

“You are not,” Mitch said with a low threat in his voice, “starting a f*cking tab.”

Gracie sputtered. “I have to agree with Mitch here. I tossed in a bunch of stuff I had lying around my house. It was nothing.”

Her defiant little chin raised another notch. “I don’t know how yet, but I’m paying my own way and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”