Peeking over the side, Maddie spied a fire escape that ran down the edge of the building. “Why didn’t we just climb up this way?”
Emmett got near the edge, looking over without getting too close. “I’ve had enough rickety metal ladders to last a lifetime. Besides, it’s a fire escape. To keep people from climbing up here, it ends seven feet off the ground and you have to unlatch the extension and let it drop. The stairs through the store seemed more civilized.”
She supposed that was true.
“I’ll take this side,” Emmett said, pointing to the southeast side of the building. “Do you want to take the other side?”
“Okay. Text me if you see anything.”
Emmett nodded and walked to the far corner to crouch down and watch. Maddie went to her side, although she didn’t imagine much would happen there. She had a view of the police station—which would be bold of the vandal to try marking—the fire station that had already been hit, the Methodist church where he’d burn in hell for defiling the temple of the Lord, and the hardware store.
She crouched down and pulled up her binoculars. The streetlights were bright enough to highlight anything in the distance, and a car with headlights would be pretty obvious. She spent a good half hour watching and, once again, seeing nothing. Then she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Coming up Magnolia Way past the Methodist church was someone on a bicycle. The dark shape didn’t have a light or any reflectors on it the way someone exercising in the dark should wear.
Grabbing her phone, she texted Emmett. I’ve got a guy on a bicycle headed this way. Turning onto Rosewood Avenue.
She slunk low along the edge of the electronics store, following the bicyclist as he passed the building they were in and rounded the corner onto Main Street. Whoever it was, they were heading toward the square and away from the police station.
I see him, Emmett replied to her text. He’s turning down First Avenue, like he’s circling the building.
Avoiding the police station, Maddie thought. She crept to the front of the building, where she met Emmett. The guy peddled his bike over to the sidewalk just outside her bakery, then he stopped.
“Oh no,” Maddie said. “He can’t.”
“Just wait,” Emmett said, reaching out to hold her arm. “We’re not sure what he’s doing yet.”
Maddie knew exactly what he was doing. She watched as he slipped off his bag and set it down, unpacking cans of paint.
Before she knew what she was doing, she was running across the roof, heading straight for the fire escape. She climbed down, jumping onto the Dumpster beneath it, then to the ground. She ran down Magnolia Way as fast as she could. It was stupid. Dangerous. The guy could be armed, but she didn’t care. He might’ve damaged her car, but she’d be damned if he was going to put one drop of pornographic paint on the wall of her bakery.
Stopping on the other side of the street outside the hardware store, she reached into her purse and pulled out her pistol as the man raised his arm to start his painting.
“Don’t! You! Dare!” she shouted.
Startled, the man turned around. His eyes grew large as he realized he’d not only been caught but that he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He raised his arms in surrender, a can of garish orange spray paint in his hand.
“Maddie!” Emmett’s voice rang out in the distance, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to blink for a second and give him the chance to vandalize any more of her property. She certainly wasn’t going to let him get away, either. She had this little creep in her sights.
“Drop the paint,” she said.
The vandal dropped the can in his hand, letting it clatter to the ground and roll across the sidewalk.
She still couldn’t see the guy’s face. The streetlights were casting shadows across most of his features. “Step back into the light.”
When he didn’t move, Maddie took a step forward into the street. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you. I’m a southern girl, born and raised, and I know how to handle a firearm. I’m not going to miss.” She let a wicked grin spread across her face and lowered her arms just enough for the gun to point at his crotch. “You seem really obsessed with men’s genitalia. Maybe that’s what I’ll aim for.”
With a gasp, the man covered his crotch and scrambled into the light. “P-please don’t, Maddie. It was just a prank. A little excitement for a sleepy town.”
She recognized his voice before she saw his face. It was Clark Newton, the owner of the newspaper.
“A little excitement?” she shouted, ignoring the sirens behind her. “Are you going to pay for the excitement you left across the hood of my Mercedes?”
“I wasn’t hurting anyone,” he argued. Both his hands were still cupped firmly over his goods.
The police car pulled around the corner then, separating Maddie from her target. She lowered her gun once Simon and Sheriff Todd leapt out of the cruiser and pinned Clark against the still-pristine bakery wall.
“What the hell was that?” she heard Emmett say from behind her.
Maddie shrugged and slipped the small pink pistol back into her purse. “What was what?”
“That!” he said, pointing at her bag.
“This?” Maddie pulled the pink gun back out. “This is Sprinkles, my handgun.”
“Sprinkles?” he said with a look of incredulity. “Your gun is pink and you named it Sprinkles?”
“Yes. I own a bakery, come on. Anyway, it’s not a big deal. I have a concealed-carry permit. And it’s just a .22. It wouldn’t have killed him, not from this distance. I wasn’t aiming for his head,” she said with a wicked chuckle.
Emmett shook his head and buried his face in his palms. “You know, I know we never discussed what we’d do if we actually caught the guy, but you leaping from the roof and pulling a gun on him wasn’t what I’d anticipated.”
Maddie felt a sheepish blush come over her cheeks. She slipped the gun back into her purse and sat it by her feet. “I know, and I’m sorry. If he’d been about to spray-paint it on the car wash or the hardware store, we could’ve just called the cops and let them handle it. But I couldn’t let him ruin my bakery.”
“We know how to clean it off, Maddie,” he said, taking a few steps toward her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “It wouldn’t have been the end of the world.”
“Not for you, but I didn’t want my bakery tainted. I would always know it was there once, even after we cleaned it off. I couldn’t stand the idea of a pe . . . thing on the wall of the business I’d worked so hard to start.”
Emmett looked down at her with a quizzical lift of his eyebrow. “Fancy, say the word ‘penis.’ ”
She flinched and wrinkled her nose. “No. I don’t like that word.”
“Say the word: ‘penis.’ Pee-nisss,” he hissed.
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Ugh. No, no, I’m not going to say it.”
“Come on, Madelyn,” he urged. “You can do it. Say it. I’m not going to let this go until you say it.”
Maddie looked around her with a wary eye. She had a hard time saying no with Emmett’s hypnotizing green gaze fixed on her. “Okay, fine. I don’t know why this is so important.” She took a deep breath. “Penis. Okay? Penis, penis, penis.”
With opportune timing, Maddie noticed that her brother Simon had approached them. He was a couple of feet away with a confused and suspicious look on his face. “Um, are you done with whatever is going on here?”
“Yes!” she insisted while Emmett laughed. Maddie had no intention of ever saying that word aloud again.
“Okay, then. Sheriff Todd is going to take Clark back to the station to book him. I’d like to get your statements.”
Emmett nodded. “Is it okay if we do it back at the bar? It’s gotten a little chillier than I was expecting it to be tonight.”
“Sounds fine.
”
All three of them turned in time to see Sheriff Todd load Clark Newton into the cruiser. He climbed into the front and the squad car disappeared around the corner headed back to the station.
“It’s a shame, really,” Simon said.
“What is?”
“Well, this is a hell of a story, but there’s no one at the newspaper to write it up.”
Simon didn’t stay long. Emmett got the feeling he wanted to get back to the station so he didn’t miss out on Clark’s story. He understood. There had to be a damn good reason why the owner of the newspaper was running around creating penile art all over Rosewood, and everyone was probably waiting to find out what that was.
By the time he cleared out, it was almost four in the morning. “Can I get you something to drink?” Emmett asked once they were alone in the bar. “I think I could use a little something.”
She shook her head. Despite her bravado with the gun, he could tell she was a little rattled. The adrenaline rush of climbing down the side of the building and apprehending the Penis Picasso was wearing off. She looked tired and anxious.
Emmett understood. He’d hesitated long enough to call the cops on his cell phone while his scaredy-cat ass had to go back downstairs through the store, unlock the front door, relock it, and run to catch up with her. By the time he got there, the cops had arrived and he felt like the last to the party.
He ignored her protests and poured her a glass of Sprite anyway. Although she was normally up at this hour, he wasn’t certain how much sleep she’d gotten before they went out. Since it was her day off, she might be wanting to return to bed, so he didn’t want to give her caffeine. Then he poured himself a shot of whiskey. He needed something to calm his nerves.
Maddie eyed her drink for a moment. “Do you stock champagne at the bar?”
Emmett looked in the refrigerated case to see what he had chilled. “I’ve got sparkling wine, yes. Not actual French champagne. The folks in town usually don’t come here to drop that kind of money on bubbly.”
Her brow raised like she was genuinely impressed he could distinguish champagne from sparkling wine. But, then, he was a bartender; it was his job to know. He’d also consumed his fair share of actual champagne in Tampa when he was living the big life.
“Do you want a glass?” he asked hesitantly. She insisted she didn’t drink, but he couldn’t fathom any other reason why she’d ask.
“I think so. Actually, I think we both need one after the night we’ve had. I know I have a pretty hard stance on alcohol, but a celebration is a celebration, right?”
“Okay,” he said with a smile. She was nonstop surprises tonight. He pulled the bottle from the case and made quick work of the cork. He pulled out two champagne flutes from overhead and poured them each a glass.
“To nabbing the Penis Picasso!” Emmett said, raising his glass.
“To teamwork,” she added, pointedly avoiding saying the dreaded P-word again.
They both brought their drinks to their lips and took a sip. It had been a long time since Emmett had anything like this, not since the night he’d bought the bar and celebrated the start of his new life. Since that time, life had been easy and fun, but there hadn’t been any big moments to celebrate. She was right to suggest this.
“This is yummy,” Maddie noted as she drained her glass with a satisfied look on her face. “It’s exactly what I would expect golden bubbles to taste like. Can I have some more?”
“Sure. Once the bottle’s open, it’s getting drunk or tossed out anyway.” Emmett was surprised she wanted more, but he wasn’t going to tell her no. He filled her glass with more golden liquid and watched her bring it to her lips.
“This must be why people drink,” she noted after a few more sips. “I’m feeling good. Loose. Relaxed. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have a care in the world.”
Emmett nodded, wondering if giving her champagne on an empty stomach was a bad idea. It sounded like it was going straight to her head. Reaching below the bar, he grabbed the scoop and poured a bowl of pretzels. “These make it even better,” he said.
Maddie absently popped a pretzel into her mouth. “Mmm. They do. Nice and salty.” A sip or two later, her glass was empty again. Emmett had taken only three sips of his own drink. Hopefully, she’d be able to get back across the street. “Come sit by me, Emmett. The bar isn’t open; you don’t need to hide behind the counter like that.”
She was right. Emmett walked out from behind the bar and settled onto the stool beside her. “Force of habit,” he said.
Maddie was staring intently at the last few drops in her glass. “This color reminds me of the sunrise. Or, at least, what I think it looks like. I’m not sure.”
Emmett frowned. “You’re up at three every morning. How have you not seen the sunrise?”
She shrugged. “I’m in the kitchen working. Hey”—she perked up—“maybe we should stay up tonight and watch the sunrise together. We could go back to the roof of the electronics store. I bet that has a nice view.”
It probably did, but he sincerely doubted she’d make it that long. He was about to say as much when she reached across the bar for the bottle and poured herself another glass. “You might want to pace yourself,” he said instead.
“Why?” she asked, setting the nearly empty bottle back down. “I’m probably never going to do it again. Alcohol turns me into a fool. I figure I might as well enjoy tonight for what it is and move on.”
“You’re not worried about doing something foolish tonight?”
She raised her glass to her lips and then stopped. Her bright blue eyes fixed on him and a wicked smile curled her lips. “If I do something foolish tonight, it’s long overdue and really has very little to do with the alcohol.”
Emmett arched an eyebrow at her. “You say that, but in the morning you may feel differently.”
Maddie took a large sip from her glass. “I want to feel differently. I want to feel anything at all. My life is so . . . lonely. You wouldn’t think so, with all the family I have in town, but it is. These last few weeks with you, even when I was ready to throttle you, were some of the better ones I’ve had in a long time. Our date, that kiss in the car . . . it reminded me just how much I’ve missed in my life. Did you know I’ve had only one lover in my whole life? It was a man I met in Paris. I had to go all the way to France to meet a man who wasn’t just interested in my family. I can’t go on dedicating every moment to my career because I’m afraid. I want more,” she said. “And with this liquid courage in my glass I’m not ashamed to say that what I’d like more of is you. Tonight.”
Setting her glass aside, Maddie leaned in and clumsily planted her lips against his. There was a newfound eagerness in her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed the firm globes of her breasts against his chest. Her tongue sought his, her moves bolder than before.
Emmett could only hold on to her waist, in part to steady her and in part to keep him in check. He’d much rather let his hands roam over every inch of her body, but he knew this wasn’t the time. He would let her get this kiss out of her system and then he’d take her home.
He didn’t like the women in his life to wake up with regrets. If Maddie still wanted him in the morning after a cup of coffee, she could walk back across the street and they’d pick up where they left off.
Finally, Maddie sat back in her seat, gripping at the counter to keep upright. Three glasses of champagne had collided with exhaustion and an empty stomach to send this teetotaler over the edge, and quickly.
Biting at her lip, she attempted to grip the hem of her T-shirt and pull it up over her head. Before Emmett could stop her, she got it caught, her elbows and arms tangled in the top. He tried to ignore the tantalizing view of her breasts, proudly displayed in a pink lace bra, as he reached over and helped her straighten out. Instead of pulling the shirt off, he tugged
it back down.
“I don’t want to wear it anymore,” she said with a pouting lower lip. “I want you to touch me. Don’t you want to touch me, Emmett?”
“I absolutely do. You just hold on one minute and that’s exactly what we’ll do.” Emmett planned to go behind the bar and make a quick mug of coffee to sober her up, but the moment he got too far away, she started weaving in her seat. Waking up with a broken nose and a black eye from face-planting on the hardwood floor was not the foolish mistake she was hoping for tonight.
“Maddie?” Emmett watched the combination of alcohol and exhaustion win the battle for control of her body.
“Mmmm?” she said, looking up at him with the glassy, unfocused eyes of a sleepy drunk. She seemed to have even forgotten that they’d kissed a moment before or that she was in the middle of a misguided seduction.
“We’d better get you home.” He abandoned the coffee and wrapped his arm around her waist to help her across the street to her house. Maddie clung to his neck, but before they could get more than a few feet from the barstool, her whole body went limp and her head fell against his shoulder.
She’d passed out.
Plan B. Emmett scooped her up into his arms and headed to the bar’s back room. There, a door led to the stairway, meeting up with the outside entrance. Maddie made the task easy by curling against him and snuggling her head into his chest. He took the stairs slowly and carefully, reaching his apartment without any trouble.
From there, he took her to his bedroom, before laying her on the bed and pulling off her sneakers. Her clothes looked comfortable enough, so he opted to leave them as is, covering her in his thick down blanket.
Maddie made a moan of complaint, rousing long enough to frown at him. “Stay,” she mumbled.
His gaze fell to her pouty lips and the revealing low-cut neckline of her shirt. He’d like to stay. But if he was going to have sex with Maddie, he wanted both of them to remember it. “Go to sleep,” he encouraged.
Stirring Up Trouble Page 15
