An Unlikely Setup

by Margaret Watson

  “Now you sound like Gordon Crawford.” Delaney ran her hand through her short blonde hair, and Maddie saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. Why would Delaney be afraid of YourMarket?

  “Hey, guys, take it easy. I haven’t sold it to anyone yet. I’d like to sell it to Quinn, okay?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, then Jen said, “Maybe we should get those tables in my van before the boys destroy your garden.” She turned to Maddie. “Delaney refinished a pair of end tables for my parents.”

  “Let me help,” Maddie offered.

  After a tiny pause, Delaney said, “Thanks. You can hold the doors open for us.”

  After the two end tables were loaded into the back of the van, Jen leaned against the door. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to Sturgeon Falls for dinner tonight,” she told Delaney. “Maddie, do you want to come with us?”

  She didn’t want to make an awkward evening for Jen and Delaney. And right now, with the tension vibrating off Delaney, that’s what it would be. “Thanks,” she said. “I’d love to, but I have other plans. Maybe another time, okay?”

  “Sure,” Delaney said, not quite meeting her eyes. “We try to go out every couple of weeks.”

  “Ask me next time,” Maddie said.

  “Will do.” Jen smiled. “We’ll miss you tonight.”

  “Thanks.” Maybe Jen would. Delaney? Not so much. “I’ll call you to set up a delivery time,” Maddie told her.

  “Sure.”

  Maddie got into her car and pulled out of the driveway. Sunlight filtered through the maple trees, dappling the ground with gold, but she couldn’t enjoy the scenery as she drove home.

  The ripples in the pond from that one stone she’d dropped were spreading farther and farther. The pressure was ratcheting up, bit by bit.

  It had all seemed so simple before she’d arrived in Otter Tail.

  Sell the pub. Sell David’s house. Pay Hollis back. Pay off the rest of her debts. Go home to Chicago and start over with a clean slate.

  Now when she thought about home, it was David’s house. Ironic, since she’d spent her teenage years hating everything about Otter Tail.

  How could home be the place she’d been running away from for the past fifteen years?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “WHERE THE HELL have you been?” Quinn demanded as soon as she walked into the Harp that afternoon.

  Maddie made a show of looking at her watch. “You said you opened at four on Sundays. Which means I’m early. So what are you talking about?”

  “Earlier this afternoon. Where were you?”

  She froze, shocked at his tone. “You want to rephrase that?” she finally asked as she grabbed her apron. “So you’d have a chance of getting an answer?”

  He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I drove to the house about an hour after I left you there. I was worried.”

  “I had some business with Delaney Spencer,” she said. “I wasn’t gone very long. I must have just missed you.” She tilted her head. “Why did you need to see me? What’s wrong?”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Andre came in this morning. Asking for his job back. It got ugly when I turned him down.”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “I’m not worried about myself. Andre isn’t going to mess with me.”

  “You think he’ll come after me?” Astounded, she stared at him. “Why would he do that?”

  “I really doubt he’ll do anything. But he was angry and made a couple of threats.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Yeah, I talked to Brady Morgan. He’s going to keep an eye on your place and mine. And the Harp.”

  “That’s crazy.” She remembered vividly the cook’s anger when he’d stormed out of the Harp, but she shrugged to hide her uneasiness. “Andre strikes me as the type who’s all talk and no action.”

  “And you’d know this, how?”

  “I live in Chicago, Quinn. I work with contractors, electricians and plumbers. I can handle a cook.”

  “Yeah, you’re tough.” His expression softened. “Tough enough to take a punch for me last night.”

  “I wasn’t exactly planning on letting him make contact.”

  “But you did, and I couldn’t stop J.D. Just like I can’t control Andre.”

  She paused in the act of tying her apron. She should have figured it out. He was upset because he couldn’t protect her. “You must have been frantic when you couldn’t find me earlier.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re going to make me think you care,” she said lightly, although her heart began to race. Quinn had been more than worried. He’d been furious. Terrified. For her.

  “Of course I care.” He grabbed a rag and wiped it over the bar. So he didn’t have to look at her? “You’re working here, so I’m responsible for you.”

  The warm fuzzies disappeared faster than an ice cube on a hot stove. “Don’t worry,” she said as she knotted the apron strings with a yank. “I’m not going to sue you.”

  She tugged at the apron to straighten it before she started serving the early arrivals. But she felt his gaze following her as the afternoon became evening.

  Finally, when they had a momentary lull, he asked, “What’s with the new work outfit?”

  So they were going to ignore the whole topic of Andre, and Quinn’s reaction. Fine. She smoothed down her flirty denim skirt. She’d worn it because the only pair of jeans she’d brought with her had split at the knee. “Change of pace,” she said. “Is it a problem?”

  “Not at all.” His gaze lingered on her legs. “I like it. A lot.”

  Apparently the customers liked it, too. Her tips were better, but she had to fend off more hands than usual. She was going to have to use some of her carefully hoarded cash to buy another pair of jeans tomorrow. “Don’t get used to it. It’s a one-night-only deal.”

  “Is that right?” He lifted his smoldering eyes to hers. “Then I better enjoy it while I can.”

  Her pulse leaped and she couldn’t look away. She told herself they had major issues to deal with, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. The sounds of the pub receded until she heard only the pounding of her own pulse, felt only her flushed face.

  “How about another beer, Maddie?” Steve Gladwin stepped in front of her, waving his glass, and the spell was broken.

  “Sure, Steve,” she said, noting that the man was swaying a little on his feet. “Where are you sitting?”

  He waved toward the back of the pub, and she saw his two buddies in a booth. “Let’s get you back to your friends.”

  She led him through the crowd, and when she reached the table, she saw that one of the men was drinking soda. “You’re driving?” she asked Ray Nolan quietly.

  “Yep.”

  Maddie nodded. “Anyone else need a refill?”

  The third man lifted his glass, and Maddie guided Steve into the booth. “I’ll be right back, guys.”

  As she walked away, she saw Frank Gervano leaning against the bar, drinking whiskey. He raised his glass to her when he caught her staring. In dread, she forced herself to ignore the YourMarket representative.

  “We heard what happened last night with J.D.,” Steve said, enunciating each word carefully as she set their beers on the table. “Shall we escort you home tonight?”

  “Thanks, Steve,” Maddie said, smiling. “That’s very sweet of you. But I’ll be okay. It was an accident.”

  “J.D.’s wife messed with his head,” Steve answered. He nodded like a bobblehead doll. “But that’s no excuse for what he did. We’ll straighten him out if he comes in here again. Right, guys?”

  The other two men murmured in agreement. Ray said, “I’ll be happy to give you a ride home if you need it, Maddie. All you have to do is ask.”

  “I appreciate that,” she replied, feeling touched.

  Was she one of their own?

  Or was she just a fool, desperate for the sense of community and kindness thes
e men were showing her?

  Maddie hurried away, unable to face Ray. He certainly wouldn’t be kind if she sold the Harp to YourMarket.

  Throughout the evening, more than a few of the people she served made a point of asking her how she was doing, and assured her they hardly noticed the bruise. Paul Black told her Gordon Crawford wanted to build condos in Otter Tail and said they were looking for someone to run against him in the upcoming election.

  “You interested?” he asked.

  “I think a person should probably live here for more than five minutes before running for mayor.” She glanced at Quinn, who was talking to Patrick O’Connor at the bar. “Have you asked Quinn?”

  “He’s not interested in getting involved.”

  In anything. “Too bad,” she said lightly. “I think he’d be good for the town.”

  “Yeah, so do I.” Paul shrugged. “Can’t hold a gun to his head, though.”

  “What about you?” Maddie asked.

  He laughed. “I can’t be mayor. Everyone knows I oppose all forms of government.”

  “That’s right. You’re the big bad radical, aren’t you?” She took his empty glass. “Want another one?”

  “Make it a black-and-tan,” he said, nodding toward the bar. “Quinn’s got a stick up his butt, and it always irritates him when I order one of those.”

  “You’re a troublemaker, Paul,” she said, laughing.

  “That’s me.” He smiled easily, but she thought she saw a shadow in his eyes.

  AT THE END OF THE NIGHT, as Quinn was counting the money in the cash register, he said, “I’m taking you home.”

  “Why?” She paused in washing a table.

  He stuffed the cash into a bank bag. “I spent the afternoon imagining all the horrible things that might have happened to you. I’m going to make sure you get into your house safely.”

  “I get it, Quinn. You were a cop and you’ve seen too much. But I’ll be okay. Andre was just blowing smoke because he was angry.”

  “Probably,” Quinn admitted. “But I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t. So humor me, okay?”

  Stop with the mental pictures of Quinn in bed. “Fine. Guilt works. You’ve already lost too much sleep because of me.”

  “You have no idea.”

  His voice was so low that she wondered if he’d meant her to hear. He grabbed another sponge and helped her wash the last few tables. It only took a few minutes to finish the last of the work, then Quinn turned out the lights. When they stepped into the pool of darkness at the side of the building, he took her hand.

  “You think Andre is going to jump out at us like a killer in a horror movie?”

  “Nah,” he said, a grin in his voice. “I just like touching you.”

  Okay, then. Way to leave her speechless.

  He waited while she got into her car, then climbed into his truck.

  His headlights in her rearview mirror made her very aware of his presence. When she pulled into the driveway, the house was enveloped in darkness, and she slowed the car.

  Quinn’s truck door slammed and he opened her door. “What’s wrong?”

  “I left the porch lights on.”

  His mouth thinned. “Give me your house keys and stay in the car while I check it out.”

  She handed him the keys, then got out and followed him to the porch.

  “Maddie, get in the car,” he said, studying the house.

  “I’m not going to cower while you play the hero.”

  He stared at her for a long moment and she stared right back. Finally, he sighed. “Stay behind me.”

  As they walked up the stairs to her front door, she heard the sound of a vehicle starting. It seemed as if it came from the road just beyond the trees at the back of the house. Quinn froze, then ran down the stairs and into the woods.

  A few minutes later he returned. “All I saw were taillights. Too far away to tell anything about the car.”

  The porch lights had been smashed, and someone had spray-painted the word bitch on the floorboards. Quinn fumbled with the little penlight on Maddie’s key chain and aimed it at the front door. He inserted the key and opened the lock.

  “It doesn’t look like he tried to get into the house,” Quinn said.

  He walked inside and switched on the lights. She followed him in, but stayed in the hall as he searched all the rooms on the first floor, then headed upstairs. Next he went into the basement. Finally he returned to the front hall.

  “No sign of any disturbances,” he said. “I checked the back door, too. Apparently, whoever it was just wanted to harass you.” He slung an arm over her shoulders. “Come on into the kitchen and have a glass of wine.”

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye as if he expected her to refuse. She almost did.

  But he’d told her that this was his problem, not hers. That he was fine with people drinking in front of him. If he wasn’t here, she’d have a glass of wine.

  “That sounds good,” she said.

  He smiled as he opened the bottle of wine that was on the counter, and poured her a glass. “Was that so hard?”

  “It was. But I believe you when you tell me it’s okay. You told me you wouldn’t lie to me.” The dark wine caught the light and gleamed red. She took a sip, glancing at him over the rim of the glass.

  “Thank you,” he said. His expression softened as he watched her take a drink. “One of the things I promised myself when I stopped drinking was that I wouldn’t lie to anyone. I’d done too much lying to cover up my problem.”

  “Was it hard? Quitting?”

  “It was hell,” he said. “I was very fond of my Jameson.” His mouth quirked into a smile. “Still am.”

  “Your family must be proud of you.”

  “I don’t have any family left. My dad died years ago. From drinking.” His gaze touched on all the pieces of David in the kitchen—the Fiestaware, the glass-fronted cabinets, the rich glow of cherry wood, the bottles of wine he’d left in the wine rack. “David was the closest thing I had to family.”

  “I adored him. He always made me feel good about myself.”

  “That was David.” He smiled briefly. “I wouldn’t have stopped drinking if it hadn’t been for him.”

  “I’m not surprised,” she said.

  “It took him a while, but he convinced me I was killing myself. He said Donyell wouldn’t have wanted me to die, too. And no woman was worth it.”

  “A woman?” Maddie sighed as she set the glass down on the table. With a man like Quinn, there was always a woman.

  He stared out the darkened window. “She was a reporter. Television news. She dumped me when I quit. Apparently, she’d been going through my paperwork, looking for inside information on the cases I was working. But I was thinking with parts other than my brain.”

  “And that made the drinking worse.” Maddie reached for his hand, and he twined his fingers with hers.

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t Jodie’s fault. I’d been drinking since I was fourteen. I’d use any excuse to crack open a bottle.”

  “It still feels wrong to drink in front of you.”

  “You’ll get used to it.” He tapped a nail against the glass. “It would be a problem if you couldn’t drink in front of me. You’d be resentful, I’d feel guilty and it would get ugly.”

  That implied they would be involved. Lovers. Her heart skipped a beat. Was that what she wanted?

  Yes. To make love with him.

  She squeezed his hand, let go and wandered onto the screened porch. The golden edge of a full moon was creeping over the horizon. She turned to Quinn impulsively. “Let’s go down to the beach and watch the moon rise.”

  “All right.” He opened the hall closet and pulled a blanket from the shelf. “It’s chilly on the lake.”

  They locked the door behind them, then walked across the dew-moist grass toward the path. The light from the moon illuminated the steps on the wooden staircase and threw the foliage next to it deeper into sh
adow. A cocoon of moonlight surrounded them as they descended.

  Quinn stopped a few steps up from the sand and pulled her down next to him. He wrapped the blanket around them, then draped his arm around her shoulder.

  The wind sighed gently through the trees and tiny waves broke on the beach, spreading white foam over the dark sand, one after another. Moonlight glinted on the dark water, and every now and then she heard the splash of a fish.

  His scent drifted over her, woodsy and alluring, and her heart thumped against her chest. He shifted on the stair and his leg bumped hers. The rough slide of denim over her bare skin made her catch her breath. He rolled his shoulders, and his fingers settled on her collarbone. Tiny sparks traveled straight to her heart.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but he appeared absorbed by the vista in front of them. She wriggled restlessly on the stair, and he pressed his thigh to hers.

  “Whoever sprayed your porch tonight isn’t hiding in the woods,” he said. “We heard him drive away.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about that.” Right now, it was the furthest thing from her mind.

  She wanted to feel the rasp of his five o’clock shadow against her lips. She wanted to taste the spot on his neck where his pulse beat steadily.

  She wanted to crawl into his arms and stay there for a long, long time.

  “You thinking about work?”

  “Nope.”

  “About what to do with David’s house?”

  “Nope.”

  “About what to do with the Harp?”

  “Not even that.”

  He shifted on the stair so he could look at her face, but didn’t let her go. “Then by the process of elimination, you must be thinking about this.” He brushed his lips over hers, and she shuddered. He smiled against her mouth. “Bingo.”

  He picked her up and settled her on his lap. “Maybe we should stay away from each other.” He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “But that’s not going to happen, Maddie. There’s no way I can stay away from you.”

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Her heart stuttered and she found his mouth for a hot, urgent kiss. As she caressed his tongue with hers, his hands fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. The blanket he’d put over their shoulders fell away, and cool air blew over her chest. Moments later, he’d opened her bra and drawn the straps down her arms.