Take a Chance on Me(82)

“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.”