I wrinkled my nose at him. “Hardly. I was mean to you. And rude. And I took advantage of you sexually. Then tried to push you away because the way I felt for you scared the living daylights out of me. Far from perfect.”
He nodded, thinking about it. “You’re right. You did take advantage of me sexually. Care to do it again?”
I gave him my hand and let him lead me straight to his bedroom. It was different this time. There was no insecurity or doubt between us. No questions or fears. We were comfortable with each other in ways we hadn’t been before. And something else had changed as well. We both knew, without even saying a word, this was the beginning of something important.
Matthew kissed me in the moonlight that shone in through his bedroom window. It was a clear night; the moon reflected off the river, making it look like diamonds sparkled under the surface. He kissed me slowly, softly, gently. As always, as soon as his lips touched mine, my body responded. I wanted him. Badly.
I tangled my fingers in his hair. Our kisses grew more urgent, and soon we were both breathing hard. His tongue sent jolts of pleasure through my body as it danced with mine. I pressed my hips against him and felt his erection through his jeans. I gasped, wanting him to be closer. And naked. Naked would have been good right now.
Matthew pulled back, and I made angry little noises of frustration. I wanted him closer, not farther away. “Patience, Fiona,” he said with a little laugh.
“Matthew Monroe,” I said, my breath coming out in short little gasps, “I’m all out of patience. I need you right now.”
I saw a flash of white as he grinned in the darkness. “Your wish is my command.”
He proceeded to show me, with his lips and tongue and his glorious body, exactly how much he cared about me. Each touch a promise. Each caress a vow. Each moment magical.
Afterward, as I lay curled up in his strong arms staring at him as we both caught our breath, I realized for the first time I didn’t feel guilty and hadn’t held anything back. It was magnificent and so overwhelming it made me cry.
Matthew pushed himself up on an elbow, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “Are you okay?”
I sniffed, placing my hand over his heart. “I’m happy.”
Matthew smiled a smile of pure male satisfaction and pulled me back into the warmth of his embrace. He kissed the top of my head. “I am yours, and you are mine. I love you, Fiona.”
“And I love you.”
I fell asleep in his arms under a canopy of stars that sparkled through the skylight above his bed, and I woke up the next morning to the warmth of his naked body and his sleepy kisses. I stretched, enjoying the way my body felt as it moved against his. I was tired and a little sore but utterly content.
“Tell me again.” His voice was husky with sleep.
I smiled, my eyes still barely open. “I love you, Matthew Monroe.”
I had to go to the shop to help my mom get ready for the weekend events. Matthew made breakfast while I showered. He was in his boxers and a T-shirt making bacon and eggs when I came into the kitchen. I wrapped my arms around his waist, my face in his back. Even the thought of the meeting the next day didn’t dim my happiness.
We sat eating breakfast and watching the boats go up and down the river as we glanced through the newspaper. Matthew poured me another cup of coffee, and I took a sip, watching him over the rim of my cup. He was rumpled and sexy and completely desirable. He caught me looking at him and gave me a wicked grin.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
I glanced at the clock and stuck out my lip in a pout. “Yes, but I’d better go. Leaving you is so difficult.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed my neck. “Then don’t do it again. Ever.”
I took his face in my hands, knowing exactly what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I was confused and stupid. Do you forgive me?”
He nodded. “Do you forgive me?”
I kissed his forehead. “Of course. And no matter what happens at the meeting tomorrow, it won’t change anything.”
He tugged on a lock of my hair. “This thing with you is so perfect. I’m afraid . . .”
I put my lips against his ear. “I am yours, and you are mine. Don’t forget that, okay?”
He smiled, but worry lingered in his eyes. “I won’t.”
As he got dressed, I looked through his bookshelf. Most of the books were about architecture, with big, gorgeous photos. One particular book caught my interest. It was on historical preservation, published by the National Registry of Historical Places.
“Do you mind if I borrow this?” I asked as he came downstairs.
“Sure,” he said. “In the mood for some light reading?”
I laughed. The book was old and the print tiny, but it was possible I might find something I could use in my speech later. “I’m researching. You do this kind of thing every day. Does it ever get boring for you?”
He shook his head. “I love it, and I still have so much to learn. There is a lot that goes into preserving an old place. Certain details require special attention that you could ignore in a more modern structure. And the paperwork involved can be daunting. Do you know how difficult it is to apply for a grant? They teach classes on that stuff because it’s so complicated. But it’s worth it.”
“Why? Is it a lot of money?”
“It can be but not only that. Any building that receives a grant or federal funding can’t be altered without specific permission. It saves a lot of places from people who might want to make ‘improvements’ and end up destroying something important, sometimes through their own ignorance. It’s kind of sad.”
I nibbled on my lip. “Federal grants, huh?” I tucked the book under my arm. It was worth a look.
Matthew lent me a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and drove me back to the shop on his motorcycle, and I held on to him tightly, enjoying the feeling of his body next to mine for a few more minutes. As soon as we reached the café, he helped me off the bike and pulled me into his arms. “Until tonight?”
“Yes,” I said.
He gave me a kiss that rocked me to my core and grinned at the bemused expression on my face as he put on his helmet and drove away. Kate came to stand next to me. “I thought he was sexy when he played guitar, but Matthew on a motorcycle is positively orgasm inducing,” she said.
Chad stood next to her but didn’t seem at all upset by her comment. “Maybe I should get a bike.”
She kissed him hard on the mouth. “You don’t need one, baby.”
Kate sauntered into the shop, and I laughed at the expression on Chad’s face. “She just knocked your socks off.”
Chad nodded, looking after her in adoration. “She always does.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Never underestimate the power of a good scrubbing brush.
~Aunt Francesca~
After reading through Matthew’s book and trying in vain to understand the section on federal grants, I spent the rest of the afternoon making tarts filled with homemade lemon curd and topped with fresh, juicy blackberries. I also made napoleons from puff pastry, layered them with fresh cream and strawberries, and then drizzled melted chocolate over the top.
I wore my normal uniform of shorts and a cami under an apron. Today my apron said “Kitchen Babe” in silver sequins. A ridiculous hot pink, but I liked it anyway. It was girly and pretty, and I felt girly and pretty today.
I decided to make mojitos for acoustic night, the perfect summer drink. Mom had plenty of fresh mint growing in the garden, but I needed lime. I stuck my head outside. Mom worked on the tables, trying to freshen them up for tomorrow.
“I’m going to run to the store. I’ll be back soon.”
“Can you grab a new scrub brush? These tables could use a good cleaning.”
The old scrub brush was still in the evidence room at the police station, covered in Moses’s blood. The thought of it made me swallow hard. I had to push it from my mind.
&nb
sp; “Sure,” I said, and grabbed some tote bags from the hook near the back door. I’d never been allowed to use the plastic grocery bags given out at the store. Mom had been eco-conscious long before it was trendy.
I bought limes and found a solid wooden scrub brush Mom would love. I paid for the order and walked home through the alley. I was smiling, thinking about Matthew, when someone shoved me sharply from behind. I tripped and fell forward, barely stopping myself before hitting the ground. I turned around in surprise.
“Harrison?”
He looked unsteady on his feet, his eyes bleary. “Long time no see.” He grabbed my arm. I tried to wriggle my arm out of his grasp, but he held on tight.
“What do you want?” I asked. My heart thumped in fear. I was certain he wanted to confront me about breaking into his apartment.
He squeezed my arm so hard it hurt; I twisted it to break free. “I want to talk to you about Scott,” he said. “You broke up with him.”
I blinked in surprise. Maybe this wasn’t about his apartment. “Why is it any of your concern?”
Harrison came closer. I smelled alcohol on his breath. “Scott is my friend and my business partner, and we’re working on something big right now. If this goes through, we’ll be set for life. Do you understand that? For life. I won’t let you or anyone else screw this up.”
He reached for me again, something cruel in his eyes, and I lost it. I screamed my head off, flailing my arms, scratching his face, and kicking him as hard as I could. I must have made contact with something because he doubled over, holding himself between the legs. I took one of the totes and whacked him on the head. I heard a solid clunk as the scrub brush hit his skull, and he fell over. I took off running full speed down the alley. I didn’t look back, and I didn’t stop until I reached the café and locked the door behind me.
Mom walked in from the garden, her arms full of fresh flowers. She froze when she saw me. “What happened?”
“Harrison . . . Scott’s partner . . .”
Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I sank into a chair. The tote bags had gotten wrapped around my wrists. She put down the flowers and gently untangled them.
“Who is Harrison, and what exactly did he do to you?” Her voice stayed calm, but I heard the cold anger behind her words. She believed in peaceful solutions to conflict, but she was also fiercely protective when it came to anyone hurting me.
I told her what happened, my teeth chattering as I spoke, and she called the police. Officer Miller, who’d been patrolling the neighborhood, showed up minutes later. He took a quick look in the alley and then sat down at the kitchen island to question me. I told him about what had happened, calmer now, and showed him the dark bruises on my arm. Mom poured him a cup of coffee and got him a plate of cookies. She was pale, but she held it together. I had a feeling she knew if she lost it right now, I’d lose it too.
“Why exactly would Mr. Harrison . . .”
“Philips.” I filled in the last name for him. I could breathe again but still felt unsteady. My arm was bruised and sore. No one had ever hurt me like that before.
Officer Miller wrote it down. “Why would he attack you?”
I opened my mouth, and the whole story came out in a rush. I couldn’t tell him about breaking into Harrison’s apartment, but I told him about Anderson and the way they’d pressured us. “Harrison is Scott’s business partner, and Scott was the one spying on us.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Your boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
He shook his head. “And this is all about a parking garage?”
“Harrison called it the deal of a lifetime. I think that was what he was talking about.”
“Do you want to press charges?”
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. I wanted Harrison to pay for what he did to me.
“I’ll do it as soon as I get back to the station.” He gave me a steady look. “Be careful, Miss Campbell. I don’t like the way these people are acting. Don’t go out alone, even in the daytime. Mr. Philips sounds like a desperate man, and desperate men often make poor decisions.”
“I will.”
Mom shook her head. “First Moses gets attacked, and now Fiona . . .”
I sat up straight, staring at her. “You’re right. First Moses and then me. Both times with the scrub brush.”
She pushed my hair out of my eyes, her face concerned. “Yes. You bought the scrub brush at the market. What happened? Did you hit your head, honey?”
“No. You don’t understand. The old scrub brush. You kept it behind the door of your office. Moses saw someone looking through the papers on your desk . . . in your office. The letter from the historical society must have been in the pile of mail you hadn’t opened yet.”
She sank into her seat, comprehension dawning in her eyes. “And Harrison had that letter.”
I nodded. “He’s the one who did it. He hit Moses with the scrub brush from your office, and I hit him with the new scrub brush. It’s like you always said. Karma. I can’t believe I’m saying this.”
She smiled at me. “Karma.”
Officer Miller scratched his chin. “It’s a nice hypothesis, but we have no way of proving Mr. Philips hurt Mr. Richards. Or he stole your letter.”
“Yes, we do.”
I told him about the fingerprints all over it the envelope. “We thought it was dirt, but now I’m not so sure.”
Mom covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. “Blood,” she said. “The prints were brown. I assumed it was dirt, but it could have been dried blood.”
I nodded. “Moses’s blood. I think that’s what’s on the envelope. Along with Harrison’s fingerprints.”
“And your lawyer already has this letter?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“I have one more question.”
“What?”
“Are you planning to solve all the cases in the South Side today or only this one?” he asked, giving me a little wink.
I grinned at him. “I think I’m done for the day.”
He wrote everything down in his notebook and thanked Mom for the coffee and cookies. “I’ll call Officer Belfiore right away. We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, ladies. Be safe,” he said, shaking his head. “All this fuss over a parking garage. Who would have thought?”
When he left, Mom sat down next to me, putting her head in her hands. “He’s right. Is it so important?”
“What?”
“The parking garage.” She lifted her head. “First we found out Matthew worked for Anderson. Later we found out Scott betrayed you because of them. Now Harrison threatens you over them, and it looks like he was willing to kill poor Moses because of it. It’s all about money, isn’t it? Maybe I should sell the café and give them what they want.”
I shook my head. “I won’t let you. And Matthew doesn’t work for Anderson. He told me last night.”
“Who does he work for?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“I have no idea.”
The door to the kitchen opened, and Matthew flew inside. He pulled me into his arms, lifting me out of my chair and holding me against the solid warmth of his body. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and faded blue jeans. I clung to him, needing to feel safe again.
“I saw Officer Miller. He told me someone tried to hurt you. What happened?”
My eyes met Mom’s. When she nodded, I knew I should tell him. “Scott’s friend accosted me in the alley. I’m okay, but he scared me.”
A muscle twitched in Matthew’s jaw as he processed that information. “Is this because you broke up with Scott?”
I nodded. “But there’s more. We think he might be the one who hurt Moses.”
“He hurt Moses? And he hurt you?” His eyes went to the bruises on my arm, and his face darkened. “Where is he?”
I touched his cheek. “I’m filing charges. Officer Miller will take care of it. All we can do is wait.”
“So would I,” Mom said.
I rolled my eyes. She wouldn’t kill flies, and now she wanted to beat up Harrison. “No one is going to do anything. We’ll get through today and tomorrow and deal with this after the council meeting is over.”
We had a record number of people show up for acoustic night. They filled the shop, the garden, and the sidewalk out front. Chad and I were constantly busy making smoothies. We made one Chad called Java Junkie that tasted like coffee-flavored ice cream. We also had several fruity ones, including mango, raspberry, and peach.
The frozen mojitos were a big hit, but looking at the limes brought back what happened in the alley. What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten away from Harrison? I liked to imagine he wanted to scare me or that he’d just been drunk, but I knew deep inside it was more than that. I couldn’t understand the rage or the reason behind it. I also couldn’t understand the fear I’d seen in his bloodshot eyes.
By the time acoustic night ended, I was sticky and tired, but I’d been able to listen to Matthew play, and that made it wonderful. Sally and Ralph brought Moses, and he played a few songs on his sax, to the delight of the crowd. He couldn’t stay long, and Sally kept checking on him, asking him if he’d eaten and making sure he wasn’t getting too tired.
“She treats me like royalty,” said Moses with a laugh. “She won’t let me lift a finger. I could get used to all this pampering, Miss Sally.”
“You deserve it, Moses,” she said with a smile. She bustled off to get some soup I’d left in the kitchen for Moses. He turned to me.
“Can I talk with you alone for a moment?” he asked.
“Sure.”
I wheeled him out to the garden, and we sat by the fountain. “Officer Miller stopped by to visit today. They think they know who hurt me.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Did he give you a name?”
He shook his head. “No, but he told me they figured it out because of you. He credits you with solving the whole case.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t tell me who it was, sweet child. We have to do this the right way. They’ll bring the man into custody. I’ll identify him. He’ll go to jail. And it will mean the world to me to put this all behind me and move on with my life. Thank you, Fiona, for all you’ve done.”
The Enchanted Garden Cafe (South Side Stories Book 1) Page 24
