Take a Chance on Me(16)

“I will,” Maddie swore. “Until tomorrow.”

“Good. Here’s Sophie.”

A few seconds later, Sophie came on the line.

“I didn’t know you still had it in you!” Sophie’s excited voice instantly made Maddie feel better. They’d met in junior high and developed an instant bond over teenage rebellion. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Maddie said, and actually, she thought it might be true.

“I’m so proud of you.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Maddie’s mouth. “I’m glad you approve.”

“It’s about time. I’ve missed the old Maddie,” Sophie said. “I knew he wasn’t right for you. Sure, he seems like the perfect guy, but I couldn’t stand how he always corrected you.”

Maddie frowned. “You never said anything.”

Sophie huffed. “I wasn’t about to badmouth your boyfriend, and you always talked about how much he did for you. It’s not like he was doing anything outright nasty or mean that I could point my finger at. I’m happy you finally got fed up and bailed.”

“Thank you.” It was the only thing Maddie could think of to say.

“I only wish I was with you so we could go on a Thelma and Louise road trip.”

Maddie laughed, remembering all the times they’d watched the movie, drooling over a young Brad Pitt. “I think I need to go on my own road trip and figure out who the hell I am.”

“I understand, but promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you meet a hot guy along the way, you have to tell me every last detail.”

“Sophie!” Maddie’s cheeks heated as she instantly thought of Mitch, the hot guy right downstairs. She pressed her lips together, fighting the sudden urge to confess. Sophie had always had that effect on her, never letting Maddie forget the girl she used to be before she’d gone down the virtuous path.

Maddie heard Penelope’s voice in the background and Sophie snorted. “I’m getting the reprimand.”

The clock on the nightstand clicked through another minute. “Soph, I need to go. But I’ll call you guys tomorrow.”


“Promise?”

“Promise.” Maddie gently hung up the phone and hugged herself. The T-shirt Mitch had given her to sleep in smelled of him: that curious mix of soap and man, with a hint of danger.

Last night, on what was supposed to have been her wedding night, she hadn’t been thinking of her abandoned groom. She hadn’t been thinking of God, or hell, or how horrible she was, like a decent person would. No, she’d spent a good hour staring at the cracks in the ceiling, having wayward, illicit thoughts about Mitch Riley. Thinking about what would have happened if their conversation had continued. Or even if she’d let the dress fall to the ground.

This stranger who’d invaded her thoughts and preoccupied her body had made her forget all about the good thing and remember what it was like to be bad.

And now she had to face him.





Halfway down the stairs, she heard the murmur of voices. Unable to make out what they were saying, Maddie could hear enough to know that one of them was female.

She faltered and stumbled. Screeching, she caught herself on the banister and clutched it like a long-lost lover. Pulse slowing to a reasonable rate, she regained her footing and cast a prayer of thanks at the ceiling that she hadn’t tumbled the rest of the way down. The last thing she needed was another grand entrance. Feet firmly planted on the ground, she let go of the railing and brushed a tangled lock of hair from one eye.

“Maddie.” Mitch’s voice right underneath her sent her pulse racing all over again.

She let out another yelp, hand flying to her chest. If she stayed in this house much longer she’d drop dead from a heart attack.

“What?” she snapped.

One glance at him and the pounding in her head grew. Curse him. It was completely unfair that she looked like something pulled from a pile of trash, while he looked like that.

Pure sin standing in the golden light of the sun.

Yesterday he’d been gorgeous, but this morning he was downright devastating in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. Shaved clean of yesterday’s stubble, his chiseled features were highlighted to perfection.

Not in the mood to be reasonable, she glared at him. Some part of her had harbored a tiny shred of hope that she could blame her attraction, and subsequent behavior, on the whiskey.

But, no, he had to go blow that theory straight to hell.

He smirked. “Does someone have a hangover?”

“No,” she said in a loud whisper, shaking her head with vehemence and setting jackhammers off against her temples. “I’m not dressed for company.”

“I heard you scream. What happened?”

For the love of god, must she be tested at every turn? She tilted her chin and said in her most haughty tone, “If you must know, I almost fell down the stairs.”

Faster than a man his size should move, he rounded the stairs and bounded up the steps two at a time, stopping when he stood one below her. Of course, she still had to peer up at him, irritating her further.

“Are you okay?” he asked, those golden eyes warm with concern.

“I’m fine.” She straightened to her full five-three, but still felt small and dowdy next to him.