Chapter Fourteen
Maddie had no sooner stepped foot in the Checkerberry’s kitchen Saturday morning before being pounced on by Miles.
“So, how’d the date go?”
“What the—?” She whirled around, ticked at being startled at such an early hour. He sat on a bar stool next to the island kitchen, coffee mug in hand and thoroughly nonplused. If his eyes weren’t so bloodshot, she might well have cracked a rolling pin over his head. “Don’t you ever sleep anymore?”
“Steph’s got a cold. She’s snoring loud enough to wake the dead.”
“You scare me like that again, and you’ll be one of them.”
Miles chuckled. “Tell you what—you trade places with me and see if you still feel the same way.”
“Oh, whatever. You have the woman of your dreams sawing logs in that bed of yours. I’ve got crickets and noise from the street below.”
He took another sip and watched her from over the brim of his mug. “So, I take it the date was a bust then?”
Maddie snorted and crossed the room to grab an apron…and to put some space between her and Miles. Her temper was short enough as it was with men in general this morning. “Is meddling a gene in the Masterson family, or did you and your cousin just win the lottery on it? And how did you know I had a date, anyway?”
“Lucky guess, since Kayla was in here covering for you. On a Friday night.” He winked. “And what did Brent do to piss you off, anyway?”
“He sent me a text at midnight, said if I needed to sleep in, he and Kayla would cover my shift.”
Miles frowned. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It is when your date’s long gone and you’re already in bed fast asleep.”
“Oh. Yikes. Totally bombed.”
Maddie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can’t you go and pester someone else?”
“Nope.” Miles took a long slurp from his coffee. “You’re the only one awake at this hour.”
“Lucky me.”
She turned from him and flicked the oven on, then drew two trays of pre-made turnovers from the refrigerator. Technically, she could have come in a little later this morning, with breakfast already prepped and ready to go. But she couldn’t stand the silence, the lingering scent of Tyson’s cologne…
“Wanna talk about it?”
Maddie shot Miles a dark look. “Do I have a choice?”
He shrugged and took another drink from his coffee, clearly in no hurry to leave her be. She grabbed herself a cup of joe and leaned back against the counter across from him, letting the mug’s warmth seep into her hands.
“I had him over for dinner.”
“Who?”
Maddie frowned. “Tyson, the guy I met at the laundromat. Sorry, I figured Steph had filled you in by now.”
“She had. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Miles smiled like the Cheshire cat.
“Watch it, Masterson. You’re already on thin ice as it is today.”
He held up one hand in surrender. “Go on.”
“Anyway, we just never…clicked, you know? I was distracted, he was distracted.” She shrugged, feigning indifference. “When he got a call from work and bowed out early—again—I honestly wasn’t all that bummed to see him go.”
“And this is the guy you’re bringing to the gala?”
Crap. She’d already told Miles she had a date for the crazy prom thing. She took an unneeded sip of coffee to give her time to think. Lies, lies, and more lies.
Like how she kept telling herself that kiss between her and Cole was just practice and meant nothing…
“Yeah. At least, I hope he’s still coming. He keeps cutting our dates short for work and I may kick him to the curb.”
Okay, so that lie was a doozie. Not only was he not coming, she still had yet to ask him. But what Miles didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
“Well, that pretty much sucks. Want me to knock some sense into him?”
At that Maddie laughed, long and hard. Miles’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m glad I amuse you.”
“Sorry,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s just, well, the guy’s built like a brick house.”
“Bet I could still take him down,” he muttered into his mug.
“You’re right, buddy, you probably could…if you bored him to death with balance sheets and market trends.”
“I come in here to cheer you up, and this is the thanks I get?”
Maddie leveled him a look that said he wasn’t fooling anyone. “You already admitted you’re here because your woman snored you right out of bed. And from the looks of it, that coffee isn’t doing you much good. Why don’t you go crash in the Bourbon Room for a few hours, get some shut eye?”
Miles ran a hand through his stylishly unkempt hair. “Yeah, maybe I should. We’ve got a meeting with the FITS board later to finalize a few last-minute items for the gala. You sure you’re all right?”
No longer feeling all that attracted to the man she’s supposed to be dating, and feeling all sorts of attracted to the man she’s not? Oh sure, she was feeling dandy.
“This is me we’re talking about. Of course I’ll be fine.”
Miles studied her a minute longer, then shrugged in defeat. “If you say so. I’m too tired to argue any longer.”
He rose from his seat and took his mug to the sink.
“Hey, that reminds me,” he said. “Anything new go missing?”
“No, not since our little powwow the other day in Ruby’s office. Kayla get the cameras up yet?”
“Yep,” said Miles as he passed her on the way to the door. “Tested it out on parking lot surveillance that same night. Worked like a charm.”
Maddie felt the blood drain from her face. Of course he knew about her and Cole kissing in the lot—Miles knew darned near everything that went on around here. Sure would have been nice to know the cameras were already in and working. Darn it! And here she’d been, feeding him lies and thinking he was actually buying them.
I guess the joke’s on me this morning.
“Tell Cole I said hello when he comes in tonight, won’t you? And while you’re at it, ask him where he’s put all your stuff.”
She glanced up long enough to catch Miles’s wink and flipped him the bird. Not that it fazed him in the least. He continued out the swinging doors without another look back, leaving her all hot and bothered, mentally reliving her kissing tutorial in the parking lot. The only thing keeping her semi-rational was Miles’s last comment. Because Cole hadn’t taken her things, and definitely wouldn’t have taken any money from Ruby.
He was a good man, always so thoughtful. No way would he do that to them. Unless…
She pinched the bridge of her nose again, this time harder. No, she couldn’t keep assuming every man that got close to her was only doing so to use her for something. Like Harrison had. That twerp had pulled the wool over her eyes all semester, but she’d sworn to never let herself be fooled like that again.
Cole was no Harrison, she knew it in her gut. But how to prove it to the others? To herself?
As she looked at tomorrow’s dinner menu, though, a plan began to form in her mind…
…
Cole stood outside his shop midmorning Saturday, sponge and pail full of soapy water in tow. At first the eggings had seemed like harmless, random acts. But scrubbing crusty yolks and slimy egg whites off the window each morning was getting real old, real quick. When he’d broken down and called to report the vandalism yesterday, the desk sergeant had completely blown him off.
“It’s just some neighborhood kids,” he’d said. “Unless they damage something, there’s not much we can do.”
He thought that statement odd, seeing as when Cole was working in the shop a police cruiser drove slowly past on the hour every hour. Apparently he posed a greater threat than the town’s egg throwers.
Damn rumors. It was just a matter of time before word on the street reached the Checkerberry, if it hadn’t made it there by now already…
“Tough crowd, huh?”
Cole looked up from his work to find a guy about his age standing nearby, a lit cigarette in one hand and the other jammed into the pocket of a denim jacket. His hair was a rat’s nest, and he was wearing shades dark as night. Still, he looked vaguely familiar. “Yeah. Guess not everyone’s a music lover.”
“Nah, it’s probably the same little bastards who harassed the last tenant the entire time he was here. They’ve got nothing better to do than make everyone else miserable.”
“You sound like you know a thing or two about the neighborhood,” said Cole, rising to his full height.
The stranger shrugged. “Hard not to, when daddy dearest comes home rambling on about it after work every day.”
Daddy dearest? “Guess so.” Cole stepped forward and offered the guy his dry hand. “Cole Granville, by the way.”
“Gavin McBride.”
McBride, as in Leonard McBride, Mount Pleasant’s long-standing mayor and another of his grandfather’s old buddies. Which meant this was the guy who Sheridan had said wanted to rent the shop. Funny, he didn’t look like the model son of a well-respected mayor.
“I had my eye on this place.” Gavin paused to take a drag from his cigarette, then exhaled to the side. “Was thinking of opening a music studio myself. Guess you beat me to it.”
Cole nodded, trying to keep cool. He couldn’t tell if the guy was here to bully him out of the lease or just to make small talk. For now, he’d give him the benefit of the doubt. “You play?”
“Guitar? Hell no.” His smile widened. “I’m a drummer.”
Cole’s memory finally slipped into place. “Ah, that’s why you looked familiar. I saw you and your band a while back over near campus. You guys rocked it out.”
“We do all right. Short a guitarist at the moment, though. Guy who’s filling in isn’t cutting it. If you know anyone who’d be interested, let me know.”
He waggled his brows, then pulled a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Cole. Radar Love was the band’s name, printed in big golden letters on a glossy black background. On the back of the card was Gavin’s name and a phone number for lesson inquiries.
“You teach?” Cole asked.
“I give some lessons. CMU is teeming with rock-star wannabes, so I’m happy to take their money.”
Cole snorted. “Yeah, well, they must all be gunning for drum lessons, ’cause it’s been slim pickins for guitar students lately.”
“Nah,” Gavin said. “They’ll turn up. Just gotta give it time.” He rolled the cigarette’s cherry off the end then toed it out on the sidewalk. “See you around, Granville.”
“See ya.”
Cole stared down at the business card still in his hand. Maybe he didn’t need to spend money on a website or radio ads to draw attention. Maybe all he needed was a little time in front of the crowd and a few business cards of his own. Would gigging with McBride help ease him into the town’s inner circle?
He pocketed the card and resumed his scrubbing, if nothing else relieved to have something to take his mind off the boss he couldn’t have and his looming rent payment.