She nodded, and I rushed off covering my mouth in case I said anything asinine. The woman was taking her own free time to help out a perfect stranger. And she was hotter than any cop had a right to be. I mean, she wasn't classically pretty or anything, but I thought her orthodox beauty made her very unique and that had its own allure that just compounded with her personality once she lowered her cop shields.
Focus Maddie.
Chapter 4 – Johnny
I watched Madelyn rush off. Just great, smooth as a hedgehog's ruff as usual, just as well, she already had someone in her life. How pathetic am I sometimes? Volunteering to help her out just so I can hang around with her more. Where the hell had all my confidence gone?
I exhaled then moved over the wire feed welder and rolled it out to the middle of the bay. I guess it didn't matter, I was only going to sit at home reading anyway. At least here I could put the skills I learned in dad's shop to use.
Madelyn returned as I was pulling the wheels off the cart. The huge center lugs made it a simple matter, I just had to get them moving with a little light persuasion from a rubber mallet. She was in some jeans and a tie-dyed tee with the ghost of an orca whale seemingly diving out of the riotous sea of colors. I hid my smile, she looked damn cute in that outfit.
I squinted at the colorful scarf she had tied around her head, but her hair seemed brighter, was it more of a chestnut tint now? I glanced up at the flickering florescents, it must have been a trick of the light.
I hesitated as she stepped up to me and shrugged, unsure of herself as she asked, “So, what do I need to wrangle?” I swear her hair had reached just below her shoulders earlier, now it hung half way down her back, had she had it tucked up under her hat before? A shame, it looked stunning longer.
I smiled and said, “Nothing right this moment, But when I lift the cart, can you pull the broken wheel off?” She saluted cutely.
I crouched and lifted with my legs, keeping my back straight, I certainly didn't need to strain it. She made some squeaking and grunting sounds and the wheel slowly slid off the axel as I started to strain. I prompted, “Any time shorty. This isn't getting any lighter.”
She paused and looked at me indignantly, a slight smile teasing at the corner of her lips, “It's bound up and dragging because it's all cattywampus. Your more than welcome to see if your cop butt can do better.”
I grunted, and was sure my face was turning red with the effort of holding the cart up. I countered, “My cop butt is about to drop your cart.” This got her moving again as she pulled with what little weight she had and the malformed hub squeaked in protest and then she was on her butt chuckling with the wheel on top of her.
I grunted again as I lowered the cart gently to the ground at a precarious forty five degree angle, not wanting to damage the threads on the end of the axle. And trying hard not to laugh as she extricated herself from under the wagon wheel.
I squatted by the wheel as she set it down and examined it more closely, seeing the wooden dowels that had sheered, confirming my observation of the spoke. I had no clue if I could actually fix it, I was better with machines than wood. But I didn't want to disappoint Madelyn. Why the hell was I trying so hard to get into her good graces, it wasn't like it would get me anywhere with her, she's taken.
I hopped up and cocked an eyebrow. “Round two?”
She hopped to her feet and we moved to the other side. I gripped the cart in the front and teased before I lifted, “Try not to wind up on your rump this time?”
She squished her lips to one side and furrowed her brow, “Wares, hawk, rump. Seriously Dani, what era did you just step out of? I only fell on my ass because the wheel came free suddenly.”
I grinned at her first use of my nickname then said, “If you say so.” I held up a finger when she almost shot back our now familiar phrase. She seemed pleased as punch. I grunted and lifted, rotating the cart up, using the legs on the back by the handles as a fulcrum. I was a little tired out from the first lift, so I strained a little more.
She was there quickly sliding the wheel off the axle smoothly. She hesitated at the end and made a show of demurely moving it the last couple inches very, very slowly and carefully. I said between gritted teeth, “Ok smartass. I'm like five seconds from dropping this.”
She chuckled and looked all too pleased with herself as she pulled the wheel off and squeaked when she almost stumbled again. I had to lower the cart quickly before I dropped it as I fought off a laugh. I said as I set it down then stood, stretching my arms and back. “Serves you right.” There was a sliding sound as the contents in the cart slid down the harsh angle. I squinted one eye in mock pain, we probably should have emptied it before we did this.
She playfully rolled the wheel around herself as she shrugged, “You're the one thinking with your brawn instead of your brain.”
I narrowed an eye at her and she pointed at the engine hoist. Well for fuck's sake. I blushed in embarrassment, yeah, that would have been easier and smarter wouldn't it have?
I countered with my infinitely well articulated thoughts on the subject, “Smug runt.”
She stepped primly around the wheel she was balancing upright, and said regally, “Just so.” She was a ton of fun when she forgot about her bias against the police. I glanced down at myself, ahh, the lack of uniform is probably helping that. I looked over at her, her eyes were trained on my mid section, she was absently touching her hair and winding it around a finger.
I looked down. What? I almost smiled. Was she looking at my belly? Then I realized the more likely culprit... my tat. I found myself almost subconsciously tightening my abs. Then I reached out and snagged the wheel from her and hefted the other one to move them off to the side and out of the way so I could look at them later.
She followed like a wind up soldier holding the single loose spoke to her shoulder like a rifle. Ok, I had to smile at that as I snatched it from her then pointed it at her then the cart. “Ok Miss Smartypants, how bout you make yourself useful and hoist it up level then while I work on the fix.”
She looked at the hoist then the cart and then bit her lower lip as she squinted one eye. She nodded once emphatically, that long hair of hers swishing on her back. I got distracted by the movement and her curves. I glanced up and saw she caught me looking and I said, “That's a cool shirt, one of yours?”
She seemed to get bashful as she started wringing her hands as she averted her eyes. She nodded, then went scurrying out of the garage. What had I said? I just stared at the door as I attacked the bicycle with a wrench and a a hacksaw. Then she came back in holding my tie down straps. Ah, that's what she was doing.
I was a little relived that she had a pretty cheap bike that was steel, not aluminum, as aluminum is so much more difficult to weld in my experience, I'm sure an actual welder would disagree.
When I had the bike in three sections I looked over to where she seemed to be tangling herself more in the straps than the cart. I smiled inwardly and called out, “The cart needs the lifting, not you Maddie.”
She called back without looking, “Not looking for your input, here.”
Then she got the second strap looped under the cart and she fastened it to the hook and grinned in triumph. She looked smugly over at me as she absently pulled the chain through the receiver, and with a clinking of links through the receiver, the cart started to lift.
I held up the forks of the bike with the wheel still attached in one hand, and the loose portion of the bike frame in the other. “Hmm... doesn't look like this will work after all. But I think you can fix the bike with some duct tape and touch up paint.”
She moved over to my side as she said, “Hardy, har, har. You should be a comedian instead of some side bacon.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Did you just call me a pig?”
She didn't miss a beat. “If the badge fits.”
I grinned, but then her smile faded, and she looked a little unsure of herself, being reminded of my job.
; I said quickly to change the subject, “Well let’s see if I can cobble this together into something usable.” She just nodded and looked around awkwardly. I promoted, “I'll be cutting some of that tubing over there and welding for a bit... why don't you work on your stuff here?”
I indicated with a nudge of my chin, that mind-blowing canvas which she had hanging from the line. How in the name of all that was holy had she managed to do that with fabric dyes? That was a frickin' work of art. It almost physically hurt me that she was going to destroy it. I took another look at it, the way that wave or the wind or whatever it was that flowed through the market, revealing various people from various times was incredible.
I looked down at my hands. I'd give anything to have just a touch of that creativity. She shrugged as she stepped over to a stack of boxes, and picked up a large sketch pad which that was maybe two feet square.
She pulled a charcoal pencil from the binding and started flipping through the pages, I tried to look, but she pulled away. She shooed me with a hand. “I'm all stocked up, so I'll just work on my art. Just yell when you need something.” She looked suddenly shy again, and I just nodded dumbly and went to work.
I welded up a rough frame a little smaller than the base of the cart. It took longer than I anticipated because I kept getting distracted by my glances at Madelyn. She seemed so lost in whatever art she was creating, like she immersed the whole of her being into its creation. She was living her art, and I found that mesmerizing that someone would have so much passion for something that they got lost in it.
I slapped down the visor on the helmet and was about to start welding the forks to one side of my impromptu frame when I heard her squeak in distress. I looked up quickly and raised the visor, glancing around the garage for a threat. She was looking at her cell. She looked over at me apologetically. “Sorry. I just realized I hadn't called Johnny to let him know I was at home, not the Market. It's almost six.”
Almost six? We'd been at this a couple hours already? I gave her a silly reproving look for panicking me, and she just crinkled her nose to parry my volley. I fought off a sigh, just what I needed was to go all mushy in front of her. Her thumbs started flashing across the screen as she sent a text message. “There.”
Then she hopped off the box she was sitting on, and closed that damn, mysterious sketchpad, and made her way to my side. She looked my creation over with a critical eye and lifted her shoulders as she slid her hands into her pockets. Then she inclined her head at the frame in approval, and said knowingly, “Rectangle.”
Dear Lord forgive me, I cracked up. This got her giggling, and I felt all the stress from the day leaving me, and that heavy weight that seemed to weigh her down looked to be lifted from her shoulders. I could have listened to her giggling all day. I got a semblance of control back and chuckled out, “Very good. Top of your class in first grade?”
She lifted her chin like a royal, and said indignantly, “I got a gold star for finger painting, thank you very much.”
I nodded, and we cracked up again. I was wiping tears from my eyes when we got control of our wits again. She asked, “Thirsty? You've been at that nonstop for a couple hours.”
I nodded. “A beer would be divine.”
She shook her head at me with a smirk. What? What did I say? She asked, “Water, juice, soda? I don't allow alcohol in the place, Johnny has a moderation problem.”
That threw cold water on my amusement. Right... Johnny. I nodded. “Soda would be great thanks.”
She smiled and shrugged as she stuffed her hands in her pockets again. Was she trying not to wring them in front of me? The effect was too cute. Then she dashed off. “Back in a flash.”
I turned back to my Frankenstein's monster and flipped the visor down and tried not to make a mess of my weld bead as the bright blue sparks flew. When I finished the weld, I glanced over at her sketch pad longingly. If what was in there was half as good as her shirt and that mural, it must be full of wonders. I pulled my attention back to the welding and started another bead on the other side of the forks.
I had just finished and started welding the rear wheel bicycle frame to the other side when the garage door started rising. I paused and looked back as I raised the visor.
An old beat up Chevy truck from a few decades ago pulled into the far bay. It was a faded white, with rust showing through the side panels and bed, it looked to be burning more oil than gas as it shut down.
A man, maybe twenty-five years old or so, hopped out. He was a little scruffy looking, in a farm boy sort of way. Rangy but well muscled. He wore an Oregon Ducks ball cap down to the top of his hazel eyes. He was fairly cute, but not handsome. More of an average, everyday sort of guy.
He had a big grin on his face that made him a little cuter, but then he had to go and open his mouth. “Well hello, there little darlin'. And who might you be?”
I exhaled, knowing I had just met Johnny, and I couldn't imagine a condescending, sexist guy like this, being Maddie's type. I guess there was no accounting for taste.
His eyes, which seemed to be undressing me, flicked over to the merchant cart hanging above the garage floor, and then his entire demeanor changed. He stood straighter and seemed to loom as his face darkened to something dangerous. I tensed, watching his motions, he looked like he would strike out any moment when he hissed out, “What the fuck did you do to my sister's wagon?”
Part of me sighed in relief as I watched the man. 'Sister,' he had said. Johnny was her brother, not her man? I almost smiled at the revelation, but he was moving toward me, malicious intent in his eyes. I started to ball my right hand into a fist, preparing to defend myself. Then we both looked back at the sound of a scolding voice. “Johnathan Colby Stone, back off! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Madelyn was standing in the doorway, holding a tray that had a bowl of chips, some dip, and a couple sodas on it. Her eyes were narrowed at her brother, with a look on her face almost like a mother would reserve for a misbehaving child. I glanced between them. He was at least three or four years older than her, why did she seem to be the one with authority?
I glanced back at the guy, and he seemed to deflate, duly chastised. Then he blurted, “What's going on? You text me that you were already at home, and I get here to find her tearing apart your wagon...”
I narrowed my eyes at his apparent surprise. Hadn't she told her brother what was going on?
She looked a little sheepish and carefully laid the tray on a box and moved slowly between us like she didn't want to spook a skittish animal. She exhaled and started wringing her hands as she looked down at them. She said to the floor, “I sort of... got robbed, in the market today.”
His eyes went wide, and he stepped back a step, a momentary flash of shock and fear in his eyes. Just as quickly as that odd reaction had come, it was gone, replaced by concern as he stepped up to her, grabbing one of her arms gently. “Are you ok, Maddie?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I'm fine. The cart was ruined. I'm more worried how we are going to pay Mr. Laurey the rent if I can't make up for the sales we lost today.”
Then she moved a hand, palm up toward me. “Danielle here helped me get the cart home. She's trying to do a temporary fix so that I can get back to selling in the market tomorrow.”
The man looked between her and me, then the cart. He had the good sense to look sheepish, then addressed me, “Sorry. That cart is everything to Maddie.” Then he stood straighter and slipped his ball cap off and ruffled his hat hair. “Thank you for helping her.”
I inclined my head and moved to the side toward the tray as he turned back to her. I imagined that this was going to be messy if she hadn't told him about the events of the day. I opened a can of soda and sipped at it as she started telling him about the robbery.
She didn't even look at me when she said she spoke with the police to file a report. He had the same reaction she had when I spoke with her, he stiffened a bit with a look of distaste on his face. I absently wond
ered why she hadn't told him I was the officer who took her statement.
I glanced at the tray again and had to grin. She had some plain potato chips in a plastic bowl and some bean dip in another non-matching bowl. Who ate regular chips with dip? Then I blushed a little when I realized she was trying to be a good hostess and this was likely all they had. I had wondered what was taking her so long. This was probably all she could scrounge up. She had mentioned their lack of funds.
I pulled my cell out and checked the time then found a good place to interject when they were staring each other down after he expressed his displeasure over the fact she had risked herself by tackling the robber. He seemed extremely fidgety.
I held up my phone and wiggled it, “Mind if I order a pizza? There's still a bit to go before I test my jury-rigged solution, and I'm starving.”
They didn't move, neither wanting to be the first to look away from the other. Then Johnny broke first as he looked down. Then after a second, she exhaled then turned to me, looking sheepish. I don't know why that was sort of badass staring him down like that. Now I knew why she seemed to be the one in charge of their little family unit.
She looked at me, and I swear she was blushing a little. Oh damn, I was grinning. I schooled my face and wiggled my phone again. She wouldn't meet my eyes as she shrugged. I pulled up my contacts and thought a moment, the closest here would be Soprano's. I almost felt embarrassed how many pizza joints I had in my contact list. That branded me as perpetually single.
While it was ringing, I covered the phone and asked, “What do you like?”
Johnny perked up and opened his mouth, but she held up a warning finger. “Nobody on this planet except you likes anchovies, Johnny. No.” Then she turned to me, a little humor back in her hazel eyes, “Sausage and Canadian Bacon?”
Inspired, not your standard meat combo. I moved the phone to my ear when I heard someone answer. Then Madelyn whispered, “And olives and onion?” I looked up at her, and she looked so bashful, I found myself smiling at her whether I wanted to or not.
The Pike_Right To Remain Silent Page 5
