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“I love tequila!” someone shouted. Another woman, judging by the high-pitched shriek. “Tequila is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I really mean that.”
Maddie was certain the woman wouldn’t feel the same way come morning. Tequila certainly wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to her. Tequila, vodka, rum, whiskey, beer . . . all of it was crossed off her list and had been long before she moved in across the street from Woody’s. Alcohol lowered your inhibitions, dulled your senses, and left a person vulnerable.
She knew as well as anyone what could happen to someone in that state. The biggest mistake she’d ever made involved a bottle of wine and a solid dose of naïveté. She’d regretted that night her whole life and couldn’t fathom why someone would deliberately put themselves in that position. Dollar shots on ladies’ night just didn’t seem like a good enough reason.
That’s when they started to sing. At first it was one or two drunks, then a whole chorus of them joined in for a rousing rendition of “American Pie.” All twenty-seven verses.
This was too much. Maddie couldn’t take any more.
Rolling over, she picked up her phone. It was after ten now. If things quieted down soon, she could get five hours of sleep. A whopping five to get her through a nearly fourteen-hour workday. Owning your own business wasn’t for sissies. And neither was living across the street from the only bar in a small town with nothing to really do in the evenings. This town needed more community activities, especially for the younger, single residents. Perhaps the Jaycees or the fund-raiser committee could organize something.
She didn’t blame the bar for being what it was. But she desperately needed sleep. People could party all night Friday if she could just get some quiet weeknights.
Maybe Miss Francine was right. Technically, the bar was breaking the sound ordinance. Maddie’s wasn’t the only home within earshot. It was right to report them. Let Emmett and the cops work it out. She dialed the local authorities and waited for someone to answer.
“Rosewood Sheriff’s Department,” a chipper woman’s voice answered. “How can I assist you?”
“Hello? Yes, this is Madelyn Chamberlain. I’d like to make a noise complaint.”
Chapter Two
A loud pounding on the glass door of the shop startled Maddie. She was just about to put a couple of muffin trays into the oven. It wasn’t even five in the morning yet. Who could be knocking on her door now?
Cautiously, Maddie peeked through the kitchen door into the dim shop. She didn’t turn on the shop lights until the sun came up, otherwise she felt like she was in a lighted display case where everyone could see her but she couldn’t see them. The streetlights outside illuminated the shape of a man standing at the door. He was tall and lean, with messy hair, and if the tense stance and tightly curled fists at his sides were any indication, he was also angry.
Emmett.
She’d been expecting a visit from him, although she’d expected it to happen during more decent hours. Like when the sun was up. And there were witnesses.
She considered slinking back into the kitchen unseen, but she knew she had to face him head-on. She smoothed her hair, prayed there wasn’t any flour on her face, and switched on the store lights. The fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead, bathing the room in an unnatural glow that was only emphasized by the stark darkness outside.
She reached for the lock and then paused. He was a large, angry man with access to all the alcohol he could drink. She didn’t think he was a violent person, but she’d proven she wasn’t the best judge of character. “What do you want?” she shouted through the panes of the glass door.
“I want to talk to you,” he said, although she didn’t entirely believe it from the looks of him. At best, he wanted to shout at her, at worst, maybe give her a good shake. Emmett was so laid-back he was practically horizontal, however, his expression at the moment was anything but. His brow was drawn down in consternation, etching lines into his forehead. His full lips curled down in the corners like arrows pointing out the tense set of his jaw. He had a 5 a.m. shadow and tousled blond hair, but that seemed to be standard attire for the beach bum.
“Then talk,” she challenged, making no move to unlock the door.
“I’m not going to shout at you through the glass and wake up the whole neighborhood.”
That was rich! Maddie couldn’t help laughing bitterly at him. “You’re never that concerned about waking me up. What’s the difference?”
“Come on. Let me in so we can talk about this like adults.”
“I don’t know you, Emmett. You could be crazy. You could have a gun or a baseball bat. You could get in here and choke me with your bare hands.”
Emmett sighed dramatically and thrust his fists into the pockets of his jeans. “The thought has crossed my mind, I assure you. But I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. Or would you rather I return when the shop is open and cause a scene that costs you business?”
Maddie’s eyes widened at his threat. Madelyn’s Bakery was a place of refinement and elegance. She was working with the local cotillion committee to hold etiquette classes upstairs this spring. She wasn’t about to let a brawl break out downstairs and ruin her hard-earned reputation.
Emmett took her silence as defiance. “If that’s what you want. I guess that’s only fair, since that’s what you did to me tonight.”
“I did nothing of the sort!” she shouted, snapping out of her reverie.
“Oh yeah?” Emmett planted his hands against the glass and leaned in to where his breath started to fog the panes in the cool morning air. “You think a cop car at my bar is good for business? You think the sheriff running off customers on one of my busiest nights helps my bottom line?”
“If you cared so much about your bottom line, you wouldn’t break the law and alienate everyone around you.”
Emmett’s forehead dropped against the glass. “Would you please let me in?”
