On the way home from the Potters’, Maddie stopped off at the grocery store and bought a roasted deli chicken and some Excedrin. Carleen had been guarded and uncooperative and Jewel had been openly hostile. Her head pounded, she was frustrated by her lack of prog ress, and she had an urge to put someone in a headlock.
With a blue basket hanging off one arm, she took her place in line at checkout number three. The next time she spoke to Carleen and Jewel, she’d try a less businesslike tactic. She’d try the nice-as-pie, friendly approach. If that didn’t work, she’d go all Jerry Springer on their hillbilly asses.
“I saw you at Value Rite earlier,” a woman in the next line over said.
Maddie looked up from putting her basket on the conveyor belt. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah.” The other woman had short dark hair and wore a T-shirt with a picture of her grandkids on the front. “Carleen said you were askin’ about Rose and Loch Hennessy.”
Wow, word really did travel fast in small towns. “That’s right.”
“I grew up with Rose and she had a few problems, but she was a good person.”
A few problems. Is that what they all called pumping lead into two people? Maddie would call it a psychotic breakdown. “I’m sure she was.”
“That little waitress got what she deserved for messing with a married man.”
Tired, frustrated, and now pissed off, Maddie said, “So you think that every woman who gets involved with a married man deserves to die on a barroom floor?”
The woman tossed a bag of potatoes on the conveyor belt in front of her. “Well, I just mean that if you mess around with another woman’s man, you might get hurt. That’s all.”
No, that wasn’t all, but Maddie wisely held her tongue.
Maddie tossed her briefcase on the sofa and glanced at the photo of her mother sitting on the coffee table. “Well, that was a waste of makeup.” She kicked off her shoes and put the photograph face down. She couldn’t look at her mother’s cheery smile when her day had been a bust.
Barefoot, she walked into the kitchen and reached into the refrigerator for the bottle of merlot she’d opened the day before. She thought better of it and grabbed the Skyy vodka, diet tonic, and a lime. Sometimes a girl needed a drink, even if she was alone. While she poured vodka into a highball glass and added the tonic, the George Thorogood song “I Drink Alone” ran through her head. She’d never liked that song. Perhaps it was the writer in her, but the chorus was redundant. Of course when you drink alone you drink with nobody else.
Just as she slid ice and a slice of lime into the glass, the doorbell rang. She grabbed her drink and raised it to her lips as she moved through the living room. She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone, and the person on the other side of the door was the last person she expected.
She looked through her peephole at Mick Hennessy, and she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. The late afternoon sun cut across Mick’s cheek and one corner of his mouth. He wore a wife beater beneath a blue plaid shirt that he’d hacked the sleeves off just above the bulge of his biceps. The pale blue in the plaids matched his eyes and set off his tan skin and black hair like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, selling sex and breaking hearts.
“Hello, Maddie,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He held a business card between the fingers of one raised hand.
Shit! The last thing she needed today was a confrontation with Mick. She took another fortifying drink and waited for him to start yelling. Instead he flashed her a killer grin.
“I told you I’d give you the name of a good exterminator.” He held the business card toward her. It was white, not black, and had a rat on it.
She hadn’t realized she’d felt a little anxious un til relief curved the corners of her lips into a smile. She took the card from him. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here to give this to me.”
“I know.” He handed her an orange and yellow box. “I thought you could use this until Ernie’s Pest Control can get out here. It’s easier than hunting for a smelly carcass.”
“Thanks. No man has ever given me…” she paused and looked at the box. “A Mouse Motel 500.”
He chuckled. “They had a Mouse Motel 200, but I thought you deserved the best.”
She opened the door wide. “Would you like to come in?” She should tell him why she was in Truly, but not right now. She just wasn’t in the mood for another confrontation.
“I can’t stay long.” He stepped past her, bringing with him the scent of the outdoors and woodsy soap. “My sister is expecting me for dinner.”
“I always wanted a sister.” Somewhere to go for holidays besides a friend’s house.
“If you knew Meg, you might consider yourself lucky.”
She shut the door and moved into the living room beside him. She had to admit, it was strange having him in her house. Not just because he was Mick Hennessy, but because it had been a long time since she’d let a man in her home. The energy seemed to change, the air to sexually charge. “Why?”
“Meg can be…” He smiled and glanced about the room. “A horrible cook,” he said, but Maddie got the feeling that wasn’t what he’d been about to say. “The kind of cook who thinks she’s a lot better than she actually is, which means she’ll never get better. If she’s thrown peas in a casserole and calls it dinner, I’m out of there.” His gaze returned to hers and he pointed to her drink. “Hard day?”
“Yeah.”
“More mice feasting on your granola bars?”
She shook her head. He’d remembered that?
“What happened?”
She was fairly certain he’d hear about it soon enough. “Nothing important. Do you have time for a drink?”
“Do you have a beer?”
“Just ultra.”
He made a face. “Don’t tell me you count carbs.”
“Oh, yeah.” She moved into the kitchen and he followed close behind. “If I don’t, I get a huge behind.” She looked over her shoulder and watched his gaze slide down her back to her butt.
“You look pretty good to me.”
“Exactly.” As if he had all day, his gaze slid back up to her face. “I have vodka, gin, and Crown Royal.”
His lids lowered a fraction over his eyes, making his dark lashes look very long. “Crown.”
She opened a cupboard and raised onto the balls of her feet. Maddie recognized the look in his eyes. She hadn’t had sex in four years, but she remembered that look.
“I’ll get that,” he said as he moved close behind her and reached to the top shelf.
She dropped to her heels and turned. He was so close that if she leaned forward just a little, she could bury her nose in his neck. The sides of his open shirt brushed her breasts and she held her breath.
He looked into her eyes as he handed her the old-fashioned glass. “Here you go.” He took a step back.
“Thank, you.” She moved around him and opened the freezer. The cold air felt good against her heated cheeks. This absolutely could not be happening. Not with him, and if he’d been any other
