Take a Chance on Me

Chapter Eight



“I’m warning you,” Mitch said to Gracie in a low, menacing tone. “Don’t even think about being helpful.” Maddie had pleaded a headache and excused herself to lie down the second they walked into his house, and he’d been acting like a lunatic ever since.

He’d left things to chance today and fate had dealt him the winning hand. He wasn’t going to let anything f*ck it up, and that included making sure his do-gooder neighbor didn’t offer Maddie any alternatives.

She stayed here with him. Period.

Gracie fluttered those long, full lashes that got her whatever she wanted. “What do you mean?”

Mitch shot a sidelong glance to the closed kitchen door, cocking an ear to listen for any sound above. Satisfied when he heard nothing, he lowered his voice. “I know you. When the subject of Maddie’s sleeping arrangements come up, don’t even think about offering her a place to stay.”

Gracie nibbled her bottom lip and snaked another inch closer to Charlie, who rubbed her back while taking a sip of beer. “You’ve got a real hard-on for this girl,” he said.

Mitch ignored the comment, remaining focused on Gracie. “Understood?”

“But—” she started.

“No buts,” Mitch cut her off. “And whatever you do, don’t mention the empty apartment you have over the garage.”

Sam stretched his legs under the kitchen table and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “She may not have a choice.”

A slice of panic, completely disproportionate to the situation at hand, cut through Mitch. He whipped around, eyeing Sam. “What do you mean?”

Relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world, he scrubbed a hand over his chin. “Well, what would you rather it be? Our house? Or Chicago?”

Mitch wasn’t in the goddamn mood to deal with any of Sam’s crap. “If you’re having some sort of premonition, then spit it the f*ck out.”

Sam shrugged and slouched lower in this chair. “Just making conversation.”

Yeah, right. Sam never just made conversation. Mitch raised his eyes to the ceiling. God help him, he missed the days of dealing with sane, rational people. The sad thing was that three years in this town had turned him as crazy as the rest of them. “She’s staying here.”


“All right,” Gracie chirped. Her white T-shirt, with a cupcake made from pink rhinestones on it, twinkled as though mocking him. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Mum’s the word.”

“Thank you,” Mitch said, shaking his head. “Was that so hard?”

Charlie, still rubbing slow circles over Gracie’s back, pinned him with his cop’s gaze. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Hell if he knew. Mitch was in pure reaction mode—the words “keep her” pounded in his brain like a mantra, refusing to be ignored. He dragged a hand through his hair before propping a hip against the counter, trying to shake off the adrenaline rioting in his veins. “I’m helping her.”

Three faces, filled with varying amounts of disbelief, stared back at him.

Mitch took a slug off his beer to keep the justifications at bay. F*ck ’em, he didn’t have to explain himself.

One dark brow rose up Charlie’s forehead. “Just remember what happened the last time you went after an unavailable woman.”

As if Mitch could forget. He spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s not like that.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s close enough to be cousins.”

A hot poker of anger jabbed in his stomach. “It’s not remotely the same.”

“You have a thing for unavailable women,” Charlie said, his expression as flat as his tone. “And Maddie, as cute as she is, fits the bill.”

“I don’t have a thing for unavailable women,” Mitch insisted.

Charlie’s mouth firmed into a hard line. “Do I need to give you a list?”

A completely irrational, stubborn defiance had Mitch clenching his beer bottle hard enough to shatter. “I know who I’ve slept with, and this isn’t the same. Maddie’s not married.”

“A technicality,” Charlie said.

“I know what I’m doing.” What a joke. He didn’t have a clue.

Charlie put his own bottle down and rested his hand on the counter. “The last time you knew what you were doing, you went down in a blaze.”

The reminder was like an uppercut to the jaw. This wasn’t the same. Besides, he had nothing left to lose. He leveled Charlie with a hard-eyed stare. “Do you really want to start comparing f*ck-ups?”

Their mutual history covered a lot of sordid ground.

“Hey,” Gracie said sharply before Charlie could answer. “Let’s not start rehashing the past. We like Maddie. We just don’t want to you to get hurt.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s a couple days.” How much damage could she do? It wasn’t like he was getting attached. He just wanted to keep her for a little while. Was that so wrong?

Sam sat forward, resting his elbows on the worn table. “Save your breath, he’s a goner.”

“I am not,” Mitch said. “And why is this any of your business?”

Charlie’s expression darkened, his mouth firming into a hard line.

Mitch ground out, “Leave it. Alone.”

Charlie gave him the look he used to intimidate criminals, and Mitch took a sip of beer with a laziness he didn’t even come close to feeling.

“Stop it,” Gracie said, poking her friend-with-benefits in the ribs.

“He’s being an idiot,” Charlie said, and the stubborn set of his jaw made Mitch want to take a swing at him.

He put down the bottle and cracked his knuckles. Actually, violence sounded damned good.

Gracie’s cupid-bow mouth pulled into a frown. “I think—”

“You know what you need?” Sam cut her off, using a low, soothing voice that acted like a salve, diffusing the tension. The strain in Mitch’s shoulders eased and his jaw relaxed as though the room itself had breathed a sigh of relief. Mitch had no idea how it worked, but he’d seen Sam stop more than one barroom brawl before the first punch had even been thrown.

“What?” Mitch asked, shifting his attention to Sam, lounging at the table.

“A game of pickup,” Sam said in his slow, drawling tone.

What. The. F*ck. How was that relevant? He had things to do. “This isn’t the time.”

Sam jutted his chin toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Now?” Mitch’s agitation once again started to climb.

“Yeah, now.” Sam stood, the chair scraping over the linoleum floor. He pointed at Charlie. “You too.”

Charlie shot Mitch an exasperated, “can you believe this guy?” look. Mitch shook his head, and despite his agitation, a grin tugged at his lips.

Sam stretched his arms above his head like a lazy cat. “I’m in the mood to kick your asses.”

“Good luck,” Charlie said. “Don’t cry too hard when we mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Mitch glanced once at the door and then to the stairs leading up to the bedroom where Maddie slept, before returning to his friends and following them out to the backyard.





Maddie was grateful and surprised that she’d slept. It had all been too much: bailing on her wedding, running away, the car, the credit card being reported stolen, and Mitch. Unable to process any more drama, her brain had finally shut down. After the deep, dreamless nap, she felt human again and ready to face whatever new challenges lay in front of her.

Plus, things weren’t completely dire.

She had clothes to wear. A toothbrush. A bra. She was pretty sure it was the alternator that had blown on her car, so with the cash advance she’d taken from the ATM at Target, she had enough money to cover the repairs. Of course, she didn’t have the funds to stay in a hotel, which left three options: stay with Mitch, call her friends for money, or go home.

In the end, the decision had been simple. He wanted her to stay. She wanted to stay. Wrong as it might be, there was something here. Something tugged at her, whispering to throw caution to the wind.

The question was, what? Was it that girl she used to be, long ignored, stirring up trouble, or something real? She wasn’t sure, but couldn’t deny that she wanted to find out.

On bare feet, she crept down the back stairs and into Mitch’s kitchen.

The room was empty. She scrounged through cabinets until she found a glass, then walked over to the kitchen sink and flipped on the faucet.

A picture window overlooked his idyllic backyard. It was so serene and perfect that she wanted to sit under the huge weeping willow tree forever. Her fingers twitched as a sudden desire to paint the scene burst inside her like a firework.

How odd. That was twice in one day.

She’d completed her last work of art a month before her father died. The graffiti mural on the side of a convenience store had earned her a fine and a hundred hours of community service. The owner of the store had pressed charges, but kept the abstract cityscape depicting Bridgeport. She’d complained at the injustice, but her father had told her sternly that she’d broken the law and now she had to pay.

Despite her sullen, teenage front, she used to walk by the mural on the way home from school so she could look at it. Secretly, she’d been proud. Her dad had been proud, too. About a week before he died, she’d found the pictures he’d taken of the mural, stuffed in the back of his desk drawer.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes at the memory and she brushed them away. Why did she keep thinking of him? Here, in all places?

She looked down. The glass overflowed, the cool water spilling onto her hand. She flipped off the water and spilled the excess liquid in the sink.


Out the window, movement caught her attention. She shifted and her breath caught at the scene before her.

Three shirtless men, their toned, sweat-slicked muscles gleaming in the early evening summer sun, played basketball in Mitch’s driveway.

Her throat dried up. Mitch, the sheriff, and the bartender from last night all clustered under the basket, pushing and shoving each other as they vied for the ball.

Mitch jumped up, tipping the ball away from Charlie and into Sam’s outstretched hands.

“They’re quite the sight, aren’t they?” a female voice asked behind her.

Maddie shrieked, whipping around.

Mitch’s blond cupcake of a neighbor stood framed in the open doorway, a crooked smile on her lips. “Sorry about that.”

“Gracie,” Maddie said, her pulse slowing back down to normal. “You scared me.”

“Did you have a good nap?” Gracie closed the back door, moving fully into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I did.” Maddie smoothed her mess of hair. She’d removed her ponytail before she’d laid down because her temples had started to ache from the weight, and she’d forgotten to tie it back again.

“Come outside; the view’s better.” Gracie wrinkled her nose. “Except for my brother. It’s not his fault we’re related so I try not to hold it against him.”

Maddie craned her neck, glancing back out the window. Sam bordered on pretty, with those blond California surfer looks, as she suspected his sister knew full well. Still, Maddie could sympathize. “Oh, I hear you there. You have no idea how many conversations I’ve had to endure over the years about my brothers. Annoying, isn’t it?”

“Immensely.” Gracie winked. “Good thing Mitch caught you first so I don’t have to worry about any gushing.”

Mitch ran down the length of the driveway, his movements graceful and lithe. Even sweat-soaked, with his hair a mess, he was unbelievable.

Maddie didn’t know what to say. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “He’s certainly something to look at. The sheriff isn’t bad either.” An extreme understatement.

“He rocks between the sheets, too.” Gracie grinned as widely as a Cheshire cat.

Maddie burst out laughing. “Ah, you’re not a saint after all. I was wondering.”

Gracie gestured toward the window with a dismissive sweep. “Yeah, well, Mitch and I have been friends since I was about six and he was eight. He spent a month up here every summer while his grandparents were alive. Mitch and his sister, Cecilia, were summer staples.” She propped one jean-clad hip against the counter and placed her palms on the laminate, thrusting out a pair of breasts so magnificent that Maddie couldn’t help the stir of envy. On the smaller side of a B-cup, Maddie only dreamed of filling out a T-shirt that well.

Gracie’s head cocked to the side and a curl flopped over one eye. “I’ll admit, when I was fifteen I developed a mad crush on Mitch for about fifteen minutes. We were hormonal teens and he was different from the boys I’d known since kindergarten, being from the big city and all. We spent a few weeks circling each other, flirting shamelessly, before breaking down and engaging in a hot-and-heavy make-out session. He was an awesome kisser, but after all the tension broke it didn’t feel right, so we high-fived and called it friends.”

The confession brought back the memory of Maddie’s own, frantic, knock-you-on-your-ass kiss with Mitch earlier that afternoon. Except in her case it had felt all too right. Dangerously right. Maddie said, keeping her tone casual, “You’re only human. And it looks like you did all right in the end.”

Gracie glanced toward a side window that provided a much better view of the men than the one Maddie had been looking out of. “Yeah, I guess. Charlie’s great, and we suit each other’s needs, but we’re not together, together. You know?”

Maddie had no idea, but nodded anyway.

Gracie gave a wry chuckle, shaking her head. “It’s complicated.”

Not wanting to press, Maddie said, “Isn’t it always?”

“Yep.” Gracie gave one more passing glance toward the window, an odd expression crossing over her face before returning her attention back to Maddie. “How are you doing, by the way? Mitch told us about your troubles. I hope you don’t mind, but he asked Charlie to see if he could find anything out.”

“Charlie doesn’t have to do that.” Shane had friends everywhere and Maddie didn’t want to take any chances at Charlie’s inquiry tipping her brother off to her whereabouts. “Actually, I’d prefer if he didn’t.”

Gracie studied her, head tilted to the side. “You’ll have to talk to him about that. But how are you?”

“I’m fine.” She took a sip of the water she’d been holding but forgotten. Even room temperature, the liquid cooled her dry, scratchy throat.

“I know we don’t know each other,” Gracie said, flashing a genuine smile. “But we’re girls. If we don’t talk, our heads will explode.”

Maddie laughed, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. “Thanks. I think I’m okay. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t want to go home, but I worry I’m imposing.”

“I hope you’re not talking about Mitch.”

Maddie shrugged, pushing back the desire to be a teenage girl and grill the woman about what he had said about her.

Gracie cast a sideways glance toward the window as if ensuring herself that the men were still playing. “Trust me, you’re not an imposition. Mitch wants you to stay more than I’ve seen him want anything in the last three years.”

Maddie bit her bottom lip, staring at the blue and white checked pattern on the kitchen floor as an unexpected giddy pleasure made her dizzy.

What was wrong with her? She was supposed to find her independence, not her inner slut. All those years of Catholic school had clearly failed her.

“Look, minding my own business isn’t really my strong suit,” Gracie said.

Almost breathless with interest, Maddie perked her head up.

“I’ve never seen Mitch like this and I love him like a brother. You’re the only thing he’s shown even a spark of interest in since he’s come to live here. Around you, he acts like the boy I remember growing up. I love seeing him happy, and breaking out of the rut he’s been in, but he’s been hurt enough.”

“Hurt?” The question slipped from Maddie’s lips. Of course, she’d already figured something had made him leave Chicago, but she didn’t have a clue about what.

“No. Shoot. Forget I said that. It’s not my story to tell.” Gracie dragged her fingers through her curls, her lips pressed together. “Just please, try not to hurt him.”

“Me? I’m harmless.”

Gracie shook her head. “Actually, I don’t think you are.”

Maddie frowned, all her upheaval and unease from earlier rushing back. She put down the glass of water and hugged herself.

How many more signs did she need?

She’d taken a stab at freedom, but it wasn’t working out. She nodded. “I understand, and you’re right. Mitch has been great. I don’t want to cause any harm. It’s best anyway.”

She didn’t want to cause Mitch trouble. As much as she longed for another outcome, she forced out the words she’d known all along she’d have to say. “I understand. I’ll call my brother and he’ll come get me.”


Gracie’s hand flew up and her eyes went wide. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” After thirteen years, she was used to giving up her desires to do the right thing; she only wished it wasn’t so hard. “You’re right, it’s best if I go home.”

“No!” Gracie shouted. She straightened and stepped closer to Maddie. “No! That’s not what I meant. I was only trying to say, ‘be careful.’”

The men chose that moment to burst in the door like a bunch of rambunctious puppies, filling the room with chaos and testosterone.

Gracie placed her hand over her forehead. “Oh, shit, he’s going to kill me.”

Mitch stopped on a dime, his attention going first to Maddie and then to Gracie. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “What did you do?”

All three men turned to Gracie. They advanced on her, gleaming with sweat.

Alarm stirred. Maddie didn’t need to see their faces. The aggression was clear in their stance.

The sheriff crossed his arms over his broad chest, and the muscles in his back rippled with the movement. Like Mitch, he also had a tribal-looking tattoo, although it was on his left shoulder instead of wrapping around his bicep. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, huh?”

Gracie seemed to regain some of her composure, and her chin tilted. “I was only . . .” She cleared her throat. “Being friendly. And helpful.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Didn’t I tell you to leave it alone?”

“Yes, but . . .” Gracie glanced at Maddie. “I was worried, and—”

Mitch sliced a hand through the air. “What happened?”

The men reminded Maddie so much of her brothers and their tactics lit her temper. “That’s enough!”

They all swung around. The men’s eyes were sharp, hard with leftover adrenaline. It gave her a moment of pause, before she brushed their daunting presence aside and vaulted off her position by the sink. They tracked her as she stomped around them to stand in front of Gracie. “Stop intimidating her.”

Charlie laughed, a wry, amused sound. “Honey, we couldn’t intimidate her if we tried.” His gaze slid over Gracie in a familiar, intimate way. “Although I do think she’s angling for a spanking.”

“Ha! You wish.” Gracie placed a hand on Maddie’s shoulder. “Thanks for trying to rescue me. You’re a doll.” She sniffed.

“It’s nice to have another female here. I never have anyone on my side.”

Sam shook his head. “What did I tell you?”

Maddie planted her hands on her hips. “She didn’t do anything, so stop it.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “What did she say, Maddie?”

“I was just—” Gracie said.

“Nothing.” Maddie cut her off as a sudden loyalty toward the woman behind her swelled in her chest. “It has nothing to do with any of you. Now back off.”

Charlie’s lips curled into a smile. “Aren’t you a feisty little thing?”

“I might be little,” Maddie said, in a righteous tone. “But I’m used to dealing with my brothers, who are all bigger and scarier than you.”

Charlie laughed and elbowed Mitch in the ribs. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Maddie risked a glance at Mitch to find his expression still hard, not amused at all. He crossed his arms. “I want to talk to Maddie. Alone.”

Sam jutted his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Gracie squeezed Maddie’s shoulders. “Thanks for sticking up for me. And remember, I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“She won’t,” Mitch said, his tone matching the dark expression he wore.

Strangely, it didn’t scare her. It should—as should being alone with a strong, disgruntled man—but with Mitch, she stirred with excitement. Anticipation.

Gracie’s hand fell away and they all filed out the back door. The resounding click of the door made Maddie’s heart rate kick into high gear.

Mitch stalked toward her, everything about him predatory, dominant, and aggressive.

Her pulse pounded. What was wrong with her? She backed up, hitting the cabinets with a thud. She gripped the sides of the counter to steady herself. Her belly dipped as he closed in on her.

He invaded her space, filling her senses. He was all taut muscles and golden skin that she itched to touch but didn’t dare.

He gripped her chin, and the air stalled in her lungs as he peered down, searching her face. “Are you going to tell me what she said?”

A small shake of her head.

His fingers tightened fractionally, reminding her of his strength, though they didn’t hurt her. “I’d be wasting my breath trying to get it out of you, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

He pressed an inch closer, still not touching anywhere but her chin, but close enough for her to feel his heat everywhere. “You’re not leaving and that’s final. Got it?”

Any protest died as everything inside her melted. Reaching into some hidden reserve, she pulled away. “What are you going to do if I don’t ‘got it’?”

The gold in his eyes darkened as his head tipped forward. “Why don’t you test me and find out, Maddie?”

She swallowed, out of her depth in this mysterious game they were playing.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she held her breath, waiting for the hard press of his mouth on hers. Wanting it. Needing it.

“I’m going to take a shower.” With that, he stepped back, taking all his heat with him. He turned and walked toward the back stairs. He stopped at the bottom and looked back over his shoulder. “You’ll be here when I’m through.”

It wasn’t a question, and without thinking, she nodded, giving him the only answer she could. The only answer she wanted to give. “Yes, Mitch.”

He nodded and bounded up the stairs.

It was settled. She was staying. To her surprise, she relaxed for the first time in as long as she could remember.