by Rose Wulf
Blake was grinning openly as he asked, “Don’t you think that’s going to be awkward, though, come the first of the month?”
Nate turned a raised eyebrow toward his brother. “What are you talking about?”
“Madison is still technically your tenant, remember?” Blake reminded pointedly. “Or have the two of you decided to remedy that?”
Nate cursed under his breath. He hadn’t given that an ounce of thought. Not directly, anyway. “No,” he said. “We haven’t talked about that at all.”
“Well,” Dean began, “if she successfully sticks with you through all of this shit, then I say you put the guest house back on the market and move her into the main house. I mean, you’re practically living together right now, anyway.”
“This is a little different, Dean,” Nate argued. But he couldn’t deny that he was tempted by the idea. He’d already considered asking her to move in with him, and though he’d dismissed the idea as “too soon”, now he couldn’t help but wonder why. And, God help him, he was starting to think Dean had a point.
“It is different,” Blake agreed. “But it’s also a good gauge. Brooke and I aren’t any different when we’re alone together here than we are at home.”
“Yeah,” Nate replied, “but you were living together before last week.”
Rolling his eyes, Dean argued, “Bro, she’s living in your backyard. How’s fifteen feet gonna make a difference?”
Nate was glaring at Dean when Blake clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Listen, we can only make suggestions. If it feels right to you, then do something about it. But, either way, you should keep in mind that the time will eventually come when she’ll introduce you to her mother. And then you’ll have to talk more about yourself than you’ve ever wanted to.”
Dean was laughing at Blake’s words, and Nate grinned, too, as he said, “Actually, her mother’s gonna be moving up here soon.”
“Really?” Dean asked as his laughter subsided.
Nate inclined his head. “Yeah. Madison’s pretty sure it’ll be in the next week or so, but right now she doesn’t have a place to live or a way to support herself, so it’ll probably depend on how long it takes to get that all figured out.”
“Well there you go,” Dean declared with another grin. “Someone for your guest house. You like renting it out cheap, anyway, right?”
“Shut up,” Nate groaned, rolling his eyes again.
Lips still lifted with amusement, Blake held up one hand and said, “Okay, okay, let’s get back on track while we’ve still got the time to talk about this. And I assume it doesn’t actually need to be said that we should try and make the fights as short as possible, right?”
The humor fled their faces at the reminder, and the others nodded.
****
“Wow,” Madison declared as Brooke guided Blake’s Mustang into an available parking space. There were over a dozen other people gathered around, standing on the sidewalk and talking. And the parking lot was significantly more crowded than when she’d been there twenty-four hours before.
Similar surprise coloring her own voice, Brooke said, “I guess Paula wasn’t exaggerating when she said she wanted to get a lot of us together.”
Madison laughed with understanding. “I just wish she’d actually told us what we’re doing.”
Brooke mumbled her agreement as the two climbed out of the car, and she beeped it locked as soon as the doors were properly closed. Then they made their way together toward the gathering of people, silently taking inventory as they walked.
Madison hadn’t seen this many people at the diner since the night of the fire. If there was an actual building behind them, I’d think we were opening. She recognized Paula and Earl, who were talking with a younger woman she didn’t know. And gathered around were two of Madison’s fellow chefs, as well as Shelly the hostess and a handful of the servers—including Brooke’s friend, Georgia Clarke. There was also a group of people Madison couldn’t identify, who weren’t wearing diner uniforms and who were fiddling with cameras and tripods.
And then they’d stepped onto the sidewalk, and Brooke altered her course to talk to Georgia, so Madison trailed behind her. She didn’t want to interrupt Paula and Earl’s conversation.
“Hey,” Brooke greeted as she walked up to her friend. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Georgia gestured toward Paula, Earl, and the blonde woman Madison didn’t know, saying, “I’m not sure yet, but since Clarabelle’s here, I have a guess or two.”
Brooke’s eyes shifted for a beat in the indicated direction before returning to her friend and asking, “And what’s your guess?”
Georgia grinned. “Well, you know how she loves organizing charity events. And why else would she be here, especially with a camera crew?”
“Wait,” Madison interrupted, holding up one hand as if to slow the conversation, “back up for me. Who is she?”
“Clarabelle Buchannon,” Brooke replied easily. “And, like Georgia said, she does all sorts of charity work. She’s a sweet girl.”
Paula was speaking before Madison could respond, projecting her voice over the crowd to get everyone’s attention. “Good morning, everyone! Thank you all for coming so quickly!”
Madison and Brooke turned, falling slightly into line with their co-workers, as the hushed conversations quieted politely.
Paula was standing before them, Earl to her left and Clarabelle to her right. She lifted a hand to Clarabelle’s shoulder, giving it a subtle squeeze, and declared, “Ms. Buchannon here has volunteered to set up an event for us, in order to get us a little more wiggle-room for the reconstruction. So, to help her promote it, I thought we could take some photos. Plus she wants to make a short video for the news to help spread the word. And, before we’re done, I expect all of you will take a minute to let her know how grateful you are!”
Clarabelle laughed sweetly, smiling at Paula as she said, “Thank you, Paula.” She looked forward again, her smile broadening, and added, “We should be done within the hour if everything goes right, so this really won’t take a lot of your time at all. And if anyone doesn’t want to be included in the photos or the video, just say so.”
Clapping her hands together loudly, Paula exclaimed, “Let’s get started, then!”
Everything that happened after was mildly chaotic, in Madison’s opinion. One minute she was standing back, talking to Brooke and Georgia, and then the next she was being pulled forward for a photo with the other two chefs. Then she was alone, while Brooke and the other servers got their own picture, and then she was being tugged in another direction for another photo, this time with Paula, Earl, and Clarabelle.
When that picture was done, and the cameraman had moved on for another, Clarabelle turned a smile up to Madison. She was several inches shorter, a year or two younger, and her smile was infectious. “Hi,” Clarabelle said. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Clare; it’s nice to meet you.”
Madison accepted the hand the younger woman had held out, shaking it and smiling easily. “Madison Price,” she replied. “And we really are grateful for your help.”
Clare opened her mouth to say more, but one of the cameramen was hollering for her, so instead she laughed and said, “Apparently I have to help somebody. I’m sure I’ll see you again!” And then she walked off, quickly joining the cameraman.
A few minutes later the entire group gathered behind Clarabelle for the video, with Earl, Paula, and Madison silently holding up a poster. Clare did all of the talking, explaining what the charity event was for, how helpful it would be, and when and where the event itself would be held. They all held their smiles until the camera was lowered, and then just like that they were done.
Madison and Brooke lingered for several minutes, talking to their co-workers and their supervisors. Clare came up to them one final time to thank them for coming out, and before she left Brooke gave her an appreciative hug and wished her a good day. Then, one by one, everyone sta
rted departing, and it wasn’t long before Madison and Brooke were piling back into the Mustang.
Unable to help herself, Madison asked, “So, are you and Clare friends?”
“I’d say we’re friendly,” Brooke replied after a beat. “I’ve been to her house—once—and she’s really easy to talk to. Mostly I know her as a good customer.”
Madison nodded. “Sorry,” she said, suddenly feeling sheepish. “I suppose that wasn’t really my business, anyway.”
“Nah,” Brooke said easily. “I’d have asked if I were you.” She was quiet for another minute, until she came to a stop in the intersection and asked, “Was there anywhere you wanted to go before we head back?”
“Not—” Madison began, only to cut herself off when her eyes landed on the blue Mazda RX-8 that was making a left-hand turn across from them. “Oh my God!”
“What?” Brooke asked, turning her head to lift a brow at the exclamation.
Madison pointed through the windshield, declaring, “That’s my car! Those bastards are still driving my car!”
Brooke’s eyes snapped to the intersection in time to see the car drive around the corner. She checked her mirrors, making sure no one was pulling up alongside them to make a right turn, and she flicked the blinker on. “Do you have your cell?”
“Yes … why?” Madison asked carefully, recognizing the sound of the blinker.
As soon as it was clear, Brooke moved the car into motion and said, “We’re going to try and get your car back. But you should keep your phone handy in case we need to call for backup.”
Madison wanted to tell her to turn around—that she didn’t have to chase their enemies down—but a bigger part of her was suddenly excited. She was angry that her car had been stolen, and even angrier that they were still driving it around as if they owned it. And, if she were being honest, a part of her even hoped that they’d somehow manage to chase their enemies clear out of town. Get real, she told herself as Brooke switched lanes, closing in on her car. This isn’t some action movie. And if it were, she was pretty sure the ones with the superpowers would be the stars, not her.
The Mazda turned another corner, onto a more deserted street, and Brooke wasted no time following it.
“Where do you think they’re going?” Brooke asked, confused, as they turned again at the very next side street. She swung a right, careful not to increase her speed too much for fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention.
“Do you think they have a secret lair?” Madison replied with an unexpected grin. “I think that would almost be fun.”
“Almost,” Brooke agreed. The Mazda’s taillights flashed, and she easily pressed on her own brakes.
Madison’s eyes widened as the Mazda pulled into an empty parking lot. “What is he doing…?” Her car swung into a center spot, not bothering to park properly between the lines, and came to a stop. She wrapped her hand tighter around the cell phone she’d since pulled out of her pocket.
“Here we go,” Brooke declared as she maneuvered the Mustang until she had come to a stop directly behind the parked Mazda, blocking it in.
Without a word, they released their seatbelts and stepped out of the car. Brooke kept a tight hold on the keys, and Madison kept her hand wrapped around her phone. Her purse was strapped over her shoulder and her pepper spray was in her pocket, easily accessible. She hoped that would be enough.
The Mazda’s driver-side door swung open and Victor Matthews stepped out. When he turned toward them, a lazy, frightening smile tilting his lips, he left the door open behind him. “Well, isn’t this a treat. And here I thought for sure that one of your lovers had decided to try and be a hero.”
Swallowing heavily, Madison pushed back the instinctive twinge of fear that crept up inside of her at the sight of the man who had attacked her before. She took a deep breath and said firmly, “I just want my car back. We don’t have to make a scene.”
He arched a brow at her comment, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “We don’t? How thoughtful of you, Ms. Price. But what if I would prefer to do exactly that?”
“How would that benefit you?” Brooke asked carefully, standing still beside the hood of the Mustang.
The elder Matthews flicked his eyes toward her for a beat, before returning them to Madison as he said, “Perhaps I just want to see you squirm. Have you considered that?”
Something about his casual, arrogant, and insulting attitude was actually filling Madison with a strange surge of confidence. It helped, she decided, to remember that she had already had a hand in beating him before. And it was this confidence that kept her from flinching as he held her gaze when she replied, “I don’t really care what you want. I want my car. And everything that was in it when you took it.”
“Then by all means,” Victor began, sweeping his arms up slowly and holding them at his sides, “come and get it.”
Madison narrowed her eyes at him, studying his stance. She wasn’t surprised by the brief flash in his eyes, or the slight spark that danced between his fingertips immediately after. But she remembered enough to know that he had to let the power build at least a little, and that moment would be the opportunity she needed. Still, she waited, holding her breath, until his fingers sparked again.
Her hand dove into her pocket, releasing her cell phone in favor of grabbing her pepper spray, and as she yanked her hand up again she cried, “Go!” She didn’t wait to see if Brooke listened to her as she threw her arm forward and pressed the nozzle down, aimed straight at Victor’s suddenly surprised face.
Chapter Sixteen
Madison quickly and carefully sidestepped Victor as he coughed and gagged, eyes squeezed shut and arms swinging about blindly. She didn’t want to assume he would be disabled for long, despite the healthy face-full of pepper spray she’d given him. And as soon as her angle was clear enough, she sucked in as much of a breath as she dared and dove past him, throwing herself awkwardly into her car and yanking the door shut.
She groped hurriedly through her purse for the car keys she’d never bothered throwing out—which she was now immensely grateful for—and as soon as her fingers closed around them she tossed the rest of her purse haphazardly onto the passenger seat.
The keys were barely in the ignition when Victor began pounding angrily on her window. “You stupid bitch! You won’t get away with that!”
She responded by cranking the engine over and turning a saccharine-sweet smile on him, calling, “Bye!” as she threw the car into reverse. A quick glance in her rear-view mirror confirmed that Brooke had pulled away, giving her room to back out, so she put her foot to the gas.
A bolt of lightning hit the ground—striking the center of the single parking lot entrance—barely a moment after she pulled onto the road. And despite the nearness of the strike, the fact that he had missed had Madison smiling and almost laughing as she reached back and grabbed her seatbelt. Brooke was just ahead of her, aimed in the direction of home, and she fully intended to follow her the whole way.
The adrenaline had faded from her system by the time that they turned onto the Hawke’s street and Madison couldn’t quite decide how to feel about what she’d done. She was still proud of herself for successfully getting her car back, but suddenly she was well aware of how badly that situation could have gone. And while it might not have been her idea to chase after him initially, she certainly hadn’t put any effort into talking Brooke out of it. And everything that had happened after they’d made it to the parking lot was entirely on her. Still, it went pretty perfectly. If nothing else, she was proud of herself for that.
She decided on pride and trepidation—for entirely different reasons—as she pulled to a stop behind Brooke in the increasingly-crowded driveway. And she took her time stepping out of her car, an irrational part of her hating to leave it after having only just gotten it back.
“That was great,” Brooke praised with a smile as she stepped up to Madison. “Nate’s going to flip, but don’t listen to him.”
&
nbsp; Madison grinned broadly. “Oh, I don’t intend to.” She pushed the door shut, then, and turned toward the trunk. Her mental fingers were crossed as she pulled it open, but she didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until it came rushing out of her as her eyes landed on her laptop bag. It had been shoved into a corner of the trunk, keeping company with the change of clothes and shoes that she had always kept there. There was nothing in the trunk—or the rest of the car—that wasn’t hers. “Well,” she declared, “I guess they weren’t planning on keeping her.”
“What do you mean?” Brooke asked as she came up beside her. Her eyes landed on the sparsely occupied trunk and she added, “Never mind.”
Madison reached in and lifted the bag, slinging it over her shoulder along with her purse, and then stepped back and closed the trunk. “Time to face the music,” she stated with a faint grin as she turned toward Brooke. With a shared laugh the two turned and headed to the house.
They both paused to greet Lillian and Christopher, who were reading in the living room, before Madison decided to detour up to the bedroom to plug in her laptop. Just because it had been left in her trunk didn’t mean it had been left untouched. While it was booting up, she sat down on the end of the bed and dug through her bag to make sure that everything was as it should be. And it was while she was rifling through the bag that the bedroom door eased open and Nate stepped inside.
“Why did Brooke say you have something to tell me?” Nate asked as he shut the door behind himself. His eyes immediately landed on the laptop sitting on the bed beside her, and both eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Didn’t you say your laptop was in your car…?”
Madison smiled, setting the bag onto the ground, and pushed to her feet as she declared, “I did, because it was.”
“I’m still confused.”
Holding his gaze despite the way she suspected he’d react, Madison said, “I got my car back.”
His eyebrows once again disappeared beneath his hair line and he asked pointedly, “How?”
Here goes nothing. But she had to answer; she owed him that honesty.