Stirring Up Trouble Page 11

  “Good Lord,” Emmett said, prying open the box. “How long are we going to be out here?”

  “They’re leftovers,” Maddie explained. She kept her eyes glued to the windshield, watching for any sign of movement around town. She expected whomever did this to travel on foot. A car would draw too much attention, but someone just walking around would hardly be noticeable. “Normally, I save all my leftovers for Jeanette Kincaid. Every morning, she comes by the shop to pick up anything I didn’t sell and takes it to the battered women and children’s shelter in Ashville.”

  “Jeanette Kincaid? Isn’t she the one who got arrested in the spring for peeping in women’s windows?”

  “Yes.” It had been quite the scandal, putting all the single women in town on edge thinking some pervert was on the loose. It turned out that Jeanette was just on the hunt for her wayward husband. “She was sentenced to community service, too, only she had to serve hers at the shelter. It really opened her eyes to how bad a relationship could be and how she’d completely overreacted to the situation with her husband. She’s continued to volunteer there, at least a couple of times a week. I give her my day-old product so it doesn’t go to waste. I know if I were in their situation, there’s nothing I’d like better than a decadent treat to lose myself in for a few minutes.”

  “Why didn’t you give all this to her, then?”

  “Because we’re closed on Sundays. If I have a bunch left, I either take them by the police station or the firehouse. If it’s just a little, I’ll toss it or take it home to nibble on. Tonight, I brought it with us.”

  Emmett pulled out a dirty brownie and took a bite. “This has an Oreo cookie inside it.”

  She smiled. He wasn’t the first one to be surprised. “I know, I put it there. It’s a layer of chocolate chip cookie dough, a layer of Oreos, then a layer of brownie batter poured over the top. It’s especially good fresh from the oven with vanilla ice cream on top.”

  Emmett moaned at her suggestion. “That sounds amazing. I’m surprised though,” he said, taking another bite. “This isn’t the kind of dessert I was expecting from you, Fancy Pants.”

  Maddie shrugged off the nickname. He was right—it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she’d trained on. “I like to try different things. After you accused me of being too fancy, I thought I might try this recipe and see how it did. It sold out over lunchtime. I ended up making a second batch, and that’s all that was left.”

  Emmett stopped and turned to look at her. “Are you actually admitting that you took my advice and found it to be sound?”

  Maddie refused to look at him, peering out the driver’s window at the side streets with the binoculars she’d brought. No movement. She was hoping something would happen to derail the conversation, but she wasn’t so lucky. “I’m saying that I’ve realized people don’t necessarily want delicate high-quality pastries all the time. So, yes,” she admitted with a wince of pain, “I guess you were right.”

  Emmett gloated for a moment, happily finishing his brownie before setting the box aside. After sitting silently together in the car for a few minutes, he said, “I haven’t so much as seen a rabbit run across the lawn of the courthouse.”

  “Are you going to start this again?” Maddie complained. “Eat a cookie.”

  “Why don’t we just talk? That helps pass the time, and I won’t gain five pounds.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “I wanna talk about what happened between you and your brother at the firehouse yesterday.”

  Maddie tore her gaze away from her neighborhood watch and met Emmett’s curious green eyes. She frowned. “There’s not much to talk about.”

  Emmett chuckled. “Oh, I sincerely doubt that. The tension between you two was so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. I think there’s a long story there and we’ve got hours to kill. Lay it on me.”

  He wasn’t going to let this go. Her only choice was to tell him the truth or give up on her quest and drive him home. She slumped back into her seat. It wasn’t as though he had a very high opinion of her that would be damaged by her confession, anyway. “I’m a mean girl,” she said simply. When Emmett didn’t respond, she had no choice but to continue on.

  “Back in school, I was at the top of the food chain. I was popular; I was a cheerleader; I had all the latest and coolest clothes and gadgets . . . My father pretty much gave me anything and everything I asked for. Obviously, I was spoiled and I could be an even bigger handful than I am now.”

  “That’s kind of terrifying,” Emmett said.

  Maddie ignored his smart response. “Somehow, when I got into high school, spoiled kind of morphed into bratty, which ended up as just plain mean. There was a little clique of us, five girls who had the run of the school. Individually, we were okay, but once we got together, we could be really awful. We made fun of everyone, because we felt like we were better than everyone. We got a laugh out of it, and as friends, it was almost how we bonded.”

  “You thought that was okay?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t really think about it. I was sort of lost in my own personal daily drama. If someone went home and cried one night, I didn’t know or care. I was riding high on the wave of popularity and I felt almost untouchable. After graduation, things changed. My friends and I went our separate ways. Lydia is the only one who still lives in town, but she left for culinary school when I left for France. When I got back, there was less of the nastiness to others because I didn’t have that circle of friends feeding it.”

  “But you still thought you were better than everyone else in town?”

  Maddie frowned and let her gaze drop into her lap. “I think highly of myself and my family, yes. I feel like I’ve worked hard for what I’ve achieved, and I expect others to do the same. I have a sense of pride in myself and everything that I do, so to me, it doesn’t seem like I feel I’m better than other people, just that I’m the best me I can be. But that must not be how it comes off to others if so many people, including my own brother, think I’m so horrible.”

  “I don’t think you’re horrible, Madelyn. You might have been a little terror in high school, but you’ve grown up. You donate to the homeless and you work hard to make Rosewood a more beautiful place. I think you just don’t always realize that some of the things you say or do, even when being helpful, can come off as snobbish.”

  Maddie sighed. “I know. And it seems like no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake my old reputation. My brother was right. I would’ve made Gertie’s life hell in high school. She’s so awkward, in hand-me-downs and knockoff shoes. I never would’ve bothered to see that she’s smart and kind and thoughtful. She’s a good person, and I hate that people like me make things harder on a kid who’s obviously already struggling. It really bothers me to think about it and admit it to Grant, but I know it’s true.”

  “You can shake your reputation, Fancy.” Emmett reached over and took her hand. Enveloped in his warmth, she found it difficult to concentrate on the topic. “You need to show people that you’re not the kid you used to be. Drawing attention to your good deeds just looks like gloating, but maybe you can find another way to give back to the community.”

  Maddie thought about the conversation she’d had with Alice. She’d really been excited about the prospect of showing a movie and seeing what the turnout was like. It was a perfect community event and one that Maddie could play a role in by sponsoring it. “I am talking to Alice Jordan about doing a movie in the square. Do you think that kind of thing would help?”

  Emmett smiled. “I do. That’s a great opportunity for you to get out there and mingle with everyone in town, not just the people who can afford to buy things at your bakery or socialize with you at charity galas or whatever you rich people get together and do.”

  Maddie laughed. “Charity galas are just a cover for our secret plot of world domination.”

  �
�That’s what I thought.”

  Maddie’s gaze dropped down to her hand and she realized Emmett was still holding it. It felt so comfortable, so normal to be talking to him while they held hands. It shouldn’t, but it did. There was something about Emmett, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that drew her to him. Yes, they argued; yes, he had many annoying qualities that made him completely unsuitable for a woman like her . . . Is that really being stuck-up? But in the end, she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him.

  His large, rough hands, his easy smile and messy hair were charming on him, yet seemed sloppy on any other man. He was the opposite of everything she’d ever sought out in a man. Since all those other relationships hadn’t really worked out, maybe she needed to change tactics. Maybe she needed to do more than just prove to the community that she was open-minded . . . she needed to truly be open-minded. To open herself up to the idea of dating someone outside her usual dating pool.

  She was definitely open to the idea of another kiss. The one in the bakery had been surprising, tingle-inducing, and over far too soon. Being handcuffed together had complicated the matter, but now they were together of their own volition. No handcuffs. No court orders.

  “You really think I’m a good person?” she asked softly.

  “I do,” he said, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. It sent a shiver of awareness up her arm, making her heart beat faster in her chest. “Everyone has to make the decision to be nice. I think you can choose to be someone people like and look up to for the right reasons.”

  She could do that. “Thank you.” Maddie hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue. “Emmett, that night in the bakery when we kissed, you told me I was beautiful. Did you really mean that, or were you just trying to rile me up?”

  “I meant it. You’ll find that for my many vices, I’m usually pretty honest. I mean what I say. Why are you always questioning me when I say nice things about you?”

  Maddie shrugged and looked down at their entwined fingers. “I don’t know. I’m not used to it, I guess. Or I’m used to it being insincere flattery.”

  Emmett shook his head. “I don’t understand. I can’t figure out why there aren’t men lined up outside your door just waiting for the chance to tell you how beautiful you are.”

  “I guess I’ve scared away all the eligible men in Rosewood. You’re legally obligated to stick around.”

  “I’m not obligated to be here right now,” Emmett said as he reached out to cup her cheek and turn her face to him. “It’s my choice.”

  The intense way he watched her made her insides feel like they were melting. “Okay,” she said, feeling emboldened by his touch. “Since you’re so honest, tell me—would you like to kiss me again?”

  His eyes narrowed at her in the darkness. “Do you think it would help or hurt our tentative truce if I said I did?”

  “I guess it depends on how good the kiss is,” she answered with a sly smile curling her lips. She leaned in to him, sucking in a lungful of his scent she’d craved: a mix of woodsy earthiness and subtle spice. “Feel like taking the risk?”

  He answered with his mouth, pressing his lips to hers before she could even react. Maddie stiffened at the suddenness of the kiss, but immediately responded to his touch. She couldn’t help it. She found herself leaning into him, moaning softly against his lips as though he was the tastiest pastry she’d ever crafted.

  The first time they’d been handcuffed together, but this time she had no impediment to her movement. Maddie wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling as close to him as the obnoxious console between them would allow. She felt the heat of Emmett’s hand at her waist, his touch burning through the fabric and raising her body temperature by a couple of degrees.

  She had never been much of a fan of French kissing. A lot of the men she’d kissed in the past took it as an opportunity to try choking her with their tongues. It was sloppy, strange, and not at all arousing. All those men could’ve taken lessons from Emmett.

  His tongue coaxed her mouth open, the silk of it gliding along her own. It caressed, teased, tasted. When he groaned against her lips, it built a warmth in her belly that she’d never experienced from kissing alone. As his hand moved up her side, nearing her breast, she could feel her nipples tighten in anticipation. She wanted him to touch her. Needed it. And yet a part deep inside of her started to tense and panic at the idea of where this might be heading.

  Before her nerves could get the best of her, his hand shifted to her arm, sliding up until it reached her shoulder, gently pushing her away.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Not a damn thing,” he said, slumping back against his seat and running his fingers through the long strands of his hair. “Except that we’re in your car, sitting in the square, in the middle of the night. I don’t think that’s where you’d want this to progress, and even if you did, I don’t have any protection on me. Besides that, we’re supposed to be watching for the Penis Picasso. If that’s still your goal for tonight, we need to stop now before we get so distracted, he could spray-paint right in front of us and we wouldn’t notice him.”

  Maddie was disappointed, but she knew he was right. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d handle it if they’d gone any further, anyway. With a sigh, she sat back in her seat and turned her attention to the windshield and the dark, silent town ahead of them. She tried to ignore the tiny bursts of electricity that traveled along her body where he’d touched her and the fire that had been lit in her belly. “That little bastard better show up soon.”

  Maddie’s eyes fluttered open as a beam of sunlight stretched across her face. “Whaa . . . ?” she muttered as she looked around and realized she was still in her car.

  Looking over, Emmett was passed out beside her, his coat balled up as a pillow against the glass of the passenger window.

  “What time is it?” she asked, scrambling around for her phone.

  Emmett stirred beside her, but he was slower to rise than she was. She found her phone in the console. Lord, it was eight in the morning.

  “Wake up,” she said, giving Emmett’s shoulder a shake. “We fell asleep in the car.”

  Emmett finally sat up, frowning at her with a grumpy, sleepy face that was a little adorable. His blond hair was standing up, and he had red marks from his coat across his cheek.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, looking out the windshield as people walked by them.

  “What do you mean? They’re on their way to church. The Baptist service starts at eight fifteen.”

  “I don’t care where they’re going. I want to know why they keep stopping and pointing at the car as they walk by.”

  Maddie looked out the window and noticed he was right. People were giving them peculiar looks. Perhaps being caught sleeping with Emmett, so to speak, was scandalous. But they weren’t really looking at them. They were looking at the hood of her car.

  She leaned forward in her seat. A slash of crimson across the pearl-white hood of her Mercedes immediately caught her eye. “Oh my God.”

  Maddie fumbled for the door handle and stumbled from the car onto the sidewalk. There, she could tell exactly why everyone was staring at her car. The Penis Picasso had spray-painted a giant penis wearing an apron on the hood of her Mercedes. Her jaw dropped open, words failing her. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t possibly be happening.

  “Holy shit,” Emmett said as he joined her on the sidewalk. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and shook his head. “You were right, he did strike last night. He just did it after we fell asleep.”

  “He knew. He knew we were looking for him. The bastard waited until we passed out and did this just to thumb his nose at us.” Maddie reached out and drew her finger across the hood, but the paint had long dried. “What am I going to do? I can’t just drive around Rosewood with a giant . . . thing .
. . on my car.”

  Emmett wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, bringing back memories from the night before. Even his warm cologne and strong embrace couldn’t make this moment go away.

  Especially not when a bright light flashed across her car. They both turned in time to see Clark Newton from the Rosewood Times snapping photos of her car. “Wow,” he said, taking shot after shot. “The sixth one. And on your car, too. Maddie, do you mind giving me a few words for the paper about this?”

  She watched him let the camera hang loose around his neck as he reached for the notepad and pencil in his pocket.

  “How does it feel to be the latest victim of the Penis Picasso?”

  She shook her head, not quite able to find the words. All she could do was turn her head back toward her beautiful, ruined graduation present and stare at the damage. “Violated,” she managed at last. That was a good word.

  Clark scribbled on his pad. “Why do you think the Penis Picasso chose your car to target?”

  “Because he knows we’re onto him,” Emmett said, saving her from the unwanted interview. “Madelyn and I plan to catch the Penis Picasso and put an end to this crude vandalism. Rosewood is a nice town. It doesn’t deserve to have trash roaming around free.”

  “You plan to catch him?” Clark said with a note of incredulity in his voice. “Do you subscribe to the idea that this is just a teenage prankster?”

  “We did at first,” Emmett said. “But now it’s gone too far. Whoever is doing it likes the notoriety. And you’re not helping the matter,” he added pointedly.

  Clark looked up from his notepad. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re sensationalizing it. Splashing photos of his work across the front page of the paper, giving him that stupid nickname . . . He likes the attention and you’re giving it to him. If we all ignored him, the graffiti would probably stop.”

  “You think so?” Clark said, looking at him curiously.

  “I know so. Interview over. Get in the car, Fancy.”