Maddie and his mother were both on their knees, digging in the dirt, surrounded by little plastic containers of flowers. Maddie wore a white tank top and jean shorts and hair was in a ponytail.
His mother, dressed in a tan top and matching long shorts, shook her head. The normally sleek chin-length bob was a wild mess of windblown tangles around her cheeks.
Maddie nodded vigorously, picking up a small plastic crate of flowers in a variety of bright colors and holding them out for inspection.
The cold air from the air conditioner blasted him in the face as something hard caught in his chest.
All of a sudden, his mom threw back her head and laughed—a real, hearty belly laugh that dropped ten years from her age in an instant. Mitch could see her as a young girl, full of life, reminiscent of the way his grandma used to talk about her.
In thirty-four years, Mitch had never seen her look so carefree.
Maddie beamed. Even from a distance, her enjoyment was clear.
In a couple of days, Maddie had broken through years of repressed politeness and made Charlotte Riley laugh like a teenager.
What was he going to do with her? More importantly, what would he do without her?
Maddie stared blankly at the TV and shifted restlessly on the couch. She couldn’t sleep; couldn’t get comfortable. She’d been restless all evening and had gone for a run earlier, hoping it would settle her down, but it had been a temporary fix. After the endorphins had worn off, her unease had returned.
Was she doing the right thing? She thought so, but at what cost?
Refusing to tell him what she’d been up to had created a divide that hadn’t been there two days ago. Every time he looked at her, his golden eyes glittering with questions she didn’t answer, it grew wider.
In her defense, he wasn’t much better. He’d shut her out the second his father’s scandal had broken.
She needed to talk. She needed to get all of this incessant chatter out of her head so she could think straight. She purposefully hadn’t told her friends anything about where she was or what she’d been doing when she’d made her promised daily calls, but now she reconsidered her stance. She needed confession in the way only her best girlfriends could deliver. She glanced at the clock: it was eleven-thirty. Too late to call Penelope. She went to bed after the ten o’clock news to ensure that she got the full, recommended eight hours of sleep.
But Sophie would be up, and if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t care. Sophie was the friend you called when it was three in the morning and you got arrested for public drunkenness.
Plus, Sophie loved details: the juicer, the better.
Maddie picked up the phone from the end table next to the couch and dialed. Sophie picked up on the second ring and said a groggy hello.
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
Maddie experienced a momentary touch of guilt, which evaporated when Sophie said, “If you’re calling to talk about all the hot sex you’ve been having, you’re forgiven.”
Maddie’s cheeks heated a good twenty degrees. “Oh my God, how’d you know?”
“Wait! What?” Sophie’s voice held none of the sleepiness from moments ago. “I was kidding!”
Oops. “Oh.”
“Well, as I live and breathe, Maddie Donovan, you little slut.”
Maddie laughed and was hit by a wave of homesickness out of nowhere.
“Spill,” Sophie said, always willing to be her cohort in crime. “And don’t leave anything out.”
Maddie spilled.
After forty-five minutes of nonstop talking, she felt much better. “So that’s it, the whole sordid story.”
“Wow,” Sophie said, blowing out a deep breath. “You always did go for the gusto when you decided to raise hell, but it’s been so long I’d forgotten.”
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Maddie picked at a stray thread attached to the couch cushion.
“I don’t know.” Sophie paused and something rustled over the line. “What do you hope to accomplish?”
“It can be fixed. I know it.”
“Maybe, but what about you?”
“What about me?”
Another long silence. “Do you think it’s a good idea to get attached?”
Maddie frowned. Sophie wasn’t supposed to be the voice of reason. That was Penelope’s job. Sophie’s job was to tell her to go for it.
“I’m not that attached.”
Liar.
“Your life is here. Your family and friends, we’re all in Chicago. You have to come home soon. Are you sure you’re not getting involved in his life so you can avoid your own?”
Was that was she was doing? No. There was something keeping her here. Something she needed to finish. “I’m not avoiding. I’m just not ready yet.”
“This guy sounds like he has a lot of baggage.”
Maddie’s voice raised an octave as defensiveness twisted in her stomach. “I’m hardly baggage-free.”
“But you were getting married last week. You’ve been with one guy since you were a teenager. Hell, between your mom, Steve, and your brothers hovering over you, when’s the last time you’ve even been alone?”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.” Actually, she was pretty damn sure. “Why are you being like this? How long have you been telling me to bungee jump off a cliff? And now I have and you’re giving me shit about it?”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Sophie’s voice turned soft, laced with concern.
Maddie’s throat dried up. “I thought you’d be happy I hooked up for hot, dirty, no-strings-attached sex. It’s not a big deal.”
A noise caught her attention, and she jerked her gaze to the hallway to look directly into Mitch’s stormy expression. He leaned against the wood molding with his arms crossed and his jaw granite-hard. She’d been so wrapped up in her conversation, she hadn’t heard him come in.
Her heart sunk to her stomach.
Please, God, no
. She hadn’t meant it. Hadn’t meant to minimize what they’d shared.
“Soph, I have to go,” she managed to croak out.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Sophie said. “It’s just that you sound different. And I’m worried.”
Mitch hadn’t moved. Hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
“I have to go,” Maddie said again.
“When are you coming home?”
“Soon,” she said, hating her now-working car, sitting in the driveway. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She clicked off the phone and licked her dry lips. “Who was that?” His voice was cold enough to freeze ice.
“My friend, Sophie.” Unable to stand the tension any longer, she blurted, “I didn’t mean it.”
“Guess she’s not happy about your post-wedding sex romp.”
Maddie wanted to cringe at the words and the menace in his voice, but she stood and walked to him, putting her hand on his chest. Other than the muscle that jumped under her touch, he didn’t move, and his hard expression didn’t waver. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it. I was upset and defensive. I spoke without thinking.”
“Sure, forget it.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal.
This pretending was worse than if he’d raged in fury. But the truth was, with things so fragile between them, she was too scared to push.
It would break them.
She closed the physical distance, resting her cheek against his heart. It beat strong and fast against her ear while he stayed ridged as stone.
She whispered the truth and hoped he believed. “You’re important to me. I need you. Please believe me.”
His arms closed around her, but he didn’t squeeze as tightly as he usually did. “Did she ask you when you were coming home?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I said soon.”
His muscles tensed. “What does soon mean?”
“I don’t know.” She tilted her chin looking up into his handsome face. “Do you want me to leave?”
His gaze met hers, and he gave her a sharp shake of the head.
She traced the line of his hard jaw. “I can’t leave yet.”
His golden eyes flashed, then shuttered closed. His hand slid up her back to curl around her neck. “Let’s go to bed.”
She knew what he was doing and let him. She’d hurt him and couldn’t deny him. She needed to make it right.
Only in her heart, she knew it was wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A week later, sitting at the kitchen table, sandwiched between his mom and Maddie, Mitch gritted his teeth and tried not to think about smashing his fist into a wall to let off some steam.
They couldn’t help it if they were driving him crazy. The two of them had been talking nonstop since they’d sat down to dinner, carrying on about gardening, shopping, and other such nonsense. Today the subject appeared to be the restoration of his house.
He hadn’t been consulted on their decisions.
It was uncanny the way the two women had taken to each other.
It grated on his last nerve.
His mom laughed at something Maddie said, a warm, rich sound. Mitch wanted to snarl, but instead he took a bite of the grilled Cajun chicken Maddie had made. He chewed very slowly.
Charlotte put her glass of iced tea on the table. “Madeline, I was thinking we could go over to Shreveport tomorrow. There’s a lovely antique mall off the highway.”
“Her name is Maddie.” He hated when his mom called her that. It had become a childish point of contention.
Maddie shot him a scowl and waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “Ignore him.”
Nothing new there.
Maddie went on, “That sounds like fun. I love antiques and this house is full of them. I found this great, old-fashioned telephone table down in the basement covered in ten layers of paint. I thought about trying my hand at restoring it.”
“Oh my.” His mother placed her hands on her cheeks. “Is it pink?”
Maddie bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”
“I painted it when I was twelve. It used to be in my bedroom.”
Pink? Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to get the hell out of here. Maybe Charlie or Sam could play pickup. A game of vicious, no-holds-barred basketball would help to alleviate his agitation.
“Do you mind?” Maddie asked. “Since it’s technically yours.”
“It’s technically mine,” Mitch said dryly. He’d increasingly started to resemble a petulant six-year-old, but no matter how much he tried he couldn’t seem to stop.
“What is your problem?” Maddie snapped, then shot Charlotte an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry.”
“No need, dear.” Charlotte raised a brow, her face cool and polite, with none of the warmth she reserved for Maddie. “He is being quite a bear.”
“Don’t apologize for me,” he said in a growl.
The phone rang, and he got up, happy for an escape. The chair scraped over the linoleum floor harder than he’d intended.
He snatched the receiver.
“Yeah?” he barked.
“Geez, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Gracie said.
Great, just what he needed. The only person who possibly loved Maddie more than his mother was Gracie. “What can I do for you?”
“Is Maddie there?” Over the line, the sound of dishes clattering was like nails on a chalkboard to Mitch’s ear.
“Yeah.” He made no move to hand the phone over to her. Now she was getting calls?
“Can I talk to her?” Gracie asked, sounding like a teenage girl talking to her father.
“One second.” The words were spoken through gritted teeth he turned to Maddie. “It’s for you. Gracie.”
Maddie jumped up and grabbed the phone.
He glowered at her.
She scowled back. “What is wrong with you?”
“Not a thing, Princess.”
For the past week they’d talked about their days, bickered, and had fan-fucking-tastic sex, but they’d avoided anything real. She was there, right in front of him, but he’d already lost the thing he’d loved best about her. He wanted it back, but couldn’t figure out how to bridge the gap.
With a glare, she pulled the corded receiver into the dining room, leaving him alone with his mother.
An uncomfortable tension filled the room.
They hadn’t seen each other in three years, and they still had nothing to say.
Charlotte ran a long, tapered finger over her iced tea ring. Finally, she lifted her chin. “I really like Maddie.”
“I can see that,” he said, for lack of anything better.
“She’s wonderful.” Charlotte looked up at him. “I wouldn’t have made it through this ordeal without her.”
“She’s got that way about her.” Mitch propped a hip on the counter.
She cleared her throat. “You’re different with her.”
“I’m different. Period.” He was trying to make it clear that she didn’t know jack shit about him.
She nodded, and a sadness that had not been present a couple of minutes ago clouded her eyes, the same color as his own. “You know, I wanted to call.”
“And what stopped you?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me.” The fine lines deepened at the corners of her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s a good reason,” he scoffed.
“You don’t exactly make it easy.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much now, does it?”
She opened her mouth to speak, only to snap it shut when Maddie came into the room. With her hand covering the mouthpiece, she held the phone out to Mitch. “You have a phone call.”
“Who is it?” Mitch wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.
Maddie swallowed, her gaze darting first to him and then to his mother.
Dread had his stomach dropping. What now?
“He won’t say, but I’m pretty sure it’s your father.”
Tequila hummed through Maddie’s veins as the beat of a country song blared too loudly. The patrons of Big Red’s Bar & Tavern did a complicated two-step in the middle of the converted barn, and Maddie could almost convince herself she was having a great time.
Almost.
Those Rileys were pieces of work. Not fans of the emotional outburst.
Mitch had talked to his father for two minutes, handed the phone to his mother, and stalked off without a word. Concerned, Maddie had gone after him, but he’d claimed there was nothing to discuss and shut the office door in her face. Pissed as hell and determined to find out what was going on, she’d sought out Charlotte, only to find that she’d locked herself in the bedroom.
That had left Maddie to wander a house filled with closed doors, which was how she had ended up at Big Red’s with Gracie, downing margaritas as if she were aiming for first place in a drinking contest.
Gracie whacked a guy on the back. He was wearing a wifebeater and a trucker’s hat. “Sure, Billy, we’d love another round.” She smiled at him as though he were Brad Pitt in
Fight Club
and shoved him toward the bar.
Maddie yelled over the noise, “Did it ever occur to you to say no?”
“Why on earth would I do that?” She looked Maddie up and down as though she might have a screw loose. “See, that’s your problem.”
“I don’t have a problem.” Maddie waved her hand in the air as the buzz in her head pounded in time to the beat of a country rock song. “But how much can we drink?”
Gracie rolled her eyes. “We’ll dance it off later.”
Maddie narrowed her eyes as Gracie removed another round of cocktails from some other guy’s big, beefy hands.
Later, she hoped to be passed out next to Mitch after he’d exhausted her into sexual oblivion. No matter how distant they were in the light of day, at night they went after each other like starvation victims being given their first meal.
At the thought of Mitch, it occurred to her that she hadn’t told him where she’d gone.
She’d just left. That was kind of rude. It was common decency to let him know where she was. As the next fishbowl margarita lined up in front of her, she shouted, “I need to call Mitch.”
“Don’t worry about him. Have fun.” Gracie pushed her half-empty glass toward her.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“I’m trying to give you a good time.”
She wanted to have fun, too, but now that she’d gotten it into her fuzzy head that she wanted to talk to Mitch she couldn’t get it out. “Can I borrow your cell?”
Gracie slid an arm around her shoulder. “Nope.”
She fidgeted in her stool, playing with a damp drink napkin. “I want to call Mitch.”
“If he wants to know where you are, he’ll find you.”
“But we’re in the town over.”
“Would you relax and have a good time?”
“I will, but first I want to tell him where I went so he won’t worry.” Swaying in her seat, she took another sip of margarita. It would be nice if he realized she was gone.
Again, Gracie rolled her eyes. “Just shut up and have fun.”
Maddie stuck out her tongue, and a giggle erupted from out of nowhere.
Billy sidled back up to their table, drinks in hand. He frowned when he noticed the full drinks that had made an appearance during his short absence. Gracie patted him on the arm and gave him a megawatt smile. “Thanks, Billy. A girl can never have too many free drinks.”
Maddie’s head was feeling like a cotton cloud, and she wondered if there was a potted plant she could start dumping the cocktails in. She’d be sliding under the table soon if they kept going at this rate.
“How do you like Revival?” Billy asked, his gaze sliding down her body.
“Great,” Maddie said absently, and eyed Gracie’s phone on the table. “I’m going to call.”
“What?” Billy glanced over his shoulder. “Who?”
She grabbed the cell, pressed the menu button, and scrolled through the names until she found Mitch.
The phone was snatched from her grasp. She let out a screech, her fingers clasping at air. “Hey! Give that back.”
Gracie slipped it down the V of her tank and into her ample cleavage. “Come and get it.”
Billy plopped down on a vacant stool, eyes bugging out of his head.
Maddie stared at Gracie’s chest and contemplated. She could stick her hand down a woman’s top. It was no big deal—just skin, for God’s sake. She jumped off the stool and straightened to her full five-foot-three inches. “What is wrong with calling him?”
“It’s a girlfriend’s responsibility to stop her friend from the dreaded drunk dial.”
Maddie scowled. She was not drunk dialing! “Telling him where I am isn’t a crime.”
Gracie planted her hands on her hips. “Sorry, honey. I’m doing this for your own good.”
“You don’t understand.” Maddie picked up her drink and took a slow sip. Her gaze was fixed on the stretch of fabric across Gracie’s ample chest. She wanted that phone, and with way too many margaritas in her system, she wasn’t above groping another woman to get it. “I’m getting that phone.”
Billy’s mouth dropped open, and Maddie was surprised no drool hung down his chin like a rabid dog’s.
“You’ll thank me later.” Gracie didn’t appear the least bit threatened. If anything, she thrust her breasts out farther, as though daring Maddie to come and get it.
“Give it to me!” Maddie stomped her foot.
“Like I said, come and get it.” Gracie batted her thick lashes, cornflower-blue eyes sparkling. She tucked her hand into her top and shoved it lower into her bra.
“All right, but remember, I know how to fight.”
Gracie laughed and Billy whooped like he’d hit the jackpot.
Maddie charged.
Gracie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a holler, crossing her arms over her chest for protection. Maddie refused to be thwarted. She squeezed her lids together so she wouldn’t have to look and flung her hands out, praying she’d get hold of something. When her palm brushed against soft, pillowy cotton, she squealed.
Pay dirt.
“Maddie!” Gracie grabbed her hand, twisting her body to block Maddie’s progress. “That’s my boob!”
Maddie reached again and this time her hand curled around the cotton neckline. She pulled, squirming down the deep V of the top. Her fingers brushed the phone and a surge of adrenaline pounded through her.
“Now, why doesn’t this surprise me?” Mitch’s voice made her knees go weak.
Before she could swing around, she was hauled against his warm, strong body.
She sagged in relief. He’d come for her after all.
“You girls are giving everyone quite a show.” Charlie stood next to Mitch, looking lethal in all black.
Maddie could picture him with an FBI armband over his bicep. Wait . . . was that the FBI? Or was it SWAT?
“With all these disappointed faces, I’m sorry we broke them up.” Mitch’s tone rang with amusement, and Maddie realized it had been too long since she’d heard him sound like that.
“I wanted to call you, but she wouldn’t let me.” Her pulse raced from her girl fight and the buzz of tequila.
His palm spread wide over the expanse of her stomach, his thumb brushing the bottom of her breast. “Well, here I am.”
“See!” Gracie pointed and shook her hips in a little booty dance. “I told you so!”
Yes, she had. She shivered as his arm tightened around her ribs and she sucked in the delicious scent of him. God, she’d missed him. She craned her neck to peer into his face. “I want to talk.”
His fingers tightened at her waist. “Later.”
Gracie let out a happy screech and ran, flinging herself into Charlie’s arms.
He laughed and gave her a big kiss, licking her lower lip. “Margaritas.”
Maddie rested her head on Mitch’s shoulder. “How did you know I was here?”
“Charlie called me and told me you girls were up to no good.” His mouth twitched at the corners as though he was holding back a smile, but she didn’t miss the worry etched in the lines in the corners of his eyes. “You didn’t tell me where you’d gone.”
The loud music and buzz of chatter dimmed as she focused on Mitch. “I know.”
“I didn’t like it.”
She frowned and squirmed out of his arms, turning to face him. “And I don’t like getting a door slammed in my face.”
Mitch’s gaze met hers, his eyes narrowing. Several moments ticked by and the rest of the bar became a blur, dancing around them in fast motion while they stayed still.