Make Me Bad (Page 44)
What if Ben hadn’t been there?!
“Feel better now?” Colten asks. “This guy’s been causing trouble for years, Maddie. You don’t have to feel bad. Hell, we’ve had a warrant out for his arrest for the last few months, just haven’t been able to track him down. The bartender at Murphy’s tipped us off. If he hadn’t, your guy would still probably be out there.”
I’m fired up. Any guilt I felt before has now been set to flames. The ashes have formed a war paint I’ll use beneath my eyes.
“Where is he?” I ask, determined. “I’m going to punch him! How dare he put a gun to my head?!”
Colten smiles. “He’s back in the holding cell.”
I cross my arms. “Great, well you just go get him so I can give him a piece of my mind.”
Ben and Colten exchange an amused look. “Yeah, that’s not really how it works.”
“Well it does now. Where are your keys? I’ll do it myself.”
Colten turns back to Ben. “You got this?”
“Yeah. We’ll be back when you need us. Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
They’re talking and blabbering on, meanwhile I’m searching high and low on Colten’s desk for his keys. I shuffle papers. Where does he keep the damn things? On his holster? I’ll just take that too. Oh, look, there’s his gun—even better.
Big hands wrap around my waist and I’m hauled up and over Ben’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Hey! Wait! No!”
“See ya, Colt.”
“Bye, Ben.”
“Oh, okay, I see, you two are best friends now?” I ask, dangling upside down. Ben’s beautiful butt is right in front of my face. I poke it to be sure he’s listening to me. “Hey, you, put me down.”
He doesn’t put me down.
He carries me right to his car and plops me down on the seat. Then he buckles me in nice and safe.
“I hate you.”
He bends low to give me a kiss. “I love you. Should we go back to the party now?”
22
Ben
Two months later
Today’s a big day for me.
A day I’ve been counting down to with mixed emotions.
A day I’m not sure Madison is aware of.
This morning, she seemed perfectly happy. We ate first and second breakfast in my bed. I checked work emails on my laptop, propped up against pillows while she watched an episode of a PBS miniseries. She records a bunch of stuff at my house since she doesn’t have a TV at her apartment. It’s all stuff I’d never even heard of before her: Downton Abbey, Poldark. If it doesn’t take place at least a hundred years ago, she’s not into it. I watched a little of the show this morning, but mostly I watched her watching it. She smiled whenever the handsome guy walked on screen. She really has a thing for men in old-timey outfits.
She caught me staring and held up her mug, waving it as if to say, Refill this for me, would you?
When I refused to get out of the warm bed, she just stole mine, sipping it slowly as she leaned against my chest. When I tried to get it back, she tsked and pulled it out of my reach. So, I guess things are getting pretty comfortable with us. She’s been staying over a few nights a week, when I can persuade her. I had to start slow, compromising with just one night. That slowly morphed into two, then three. I can’t believe she ever wants to sleep in that apartment on that futon—which, by the way, is broken now. We had sex on it last weekend and one of the screws came loose. Seconds into her losing herself to a toe-curling orgasm, we both tumbled to the ground in a heap of writhing, naked limbs. I found the screw, but I lied and said I didn’t. It’s part of my master plan to get her to move in with me. On my way out that day, I also stole her coffee pot. The less amenities she has, the sooner she’ll come crawling to me, begging to move in. It’s a pretty solid plan, if you ask me.
After her show ended this morning, we finally decided to get out of bed, but then I caught a little glimpse of her butt sticking out of her pajama shorts. Just one peek at her curves and I yanked her right back down, throwing the covers over us so there was no possible hope for her to escape.
“We’ll be late!” she protested as I slid down her body, taking her shorts and panties off on my descent.
Turns out, she was wrong. I can be very efficient when I need to be.
Now, we’re up at the library in the storage room grabbing a few last-minute things for story time.
Madison’s partially hidden behind a row of boxes, digging for a stuffed penguin she says the kids will love, when I finally announce why today is so important.
“This is my last day volunteering here.”
“I can’t hear you.”
I smirk. It’s dead quiet in this room. She heard me just fine.
“Madison…”
She pokes her head around the edge of the box and narrows her eyes. “What?”
“I’ve completed all my mandated hours.”
“Oh.” She looks down at the floor. “That’s great, Ben.”
“You sound sad.”
Her bright green eyes jump back to me. “I do? How’s this?” She forces a smile and raises her voice a few octaves with her second try. “That’s great, Ben!”
“Madison…you knew this was coming. You’ve been signing off on my volunteer hours every week.”
“I know, but…” Her finger traces the edge of the box. Guilt laces her next few words. “I’ve been shaving off hours here and there as a way to keep you here longer.” I already know this. I look at the form she signs and it’s blatantly obvious. I should have finished volunteering over a month ago. “I was even thinking of telling Judge Mathers I didn’t think you had really reformed yourself. I was going to ask that another 100 hours be added to your sentence.”
She’s crazy. I love her.
I tilt my head, studying her. She has that damn stuffed penguin in her hand now. She’s toying with it, flapping its wings. She looks so sad, and my heart breaks a little.
“Eli is going to take over for me, right? And he’s probably much better at this stuff than I am. Most of the time I just linger in the back of the room while you lead everything.”
“Yeah, but Eli doesn’t make out with me in here before the toddlers show up.”
At this, her bottom lip juts out.
“Well, if you ask him, I bet he would,” I say, deadpan. “He seems like an understanding guy.”
She throws her hands up in annoyance. The penguin hits the ceiling. “Okay, fine. If you must know, it just felt like this was one reason you had to spend time with me every week. I knew no matter what, you’d have to show up here on Saturdays to volunteer with me.”
“Right, but we’re dating now. I see you nearly every day.”
“Yeah, but we’re probably only together because I’m your hot volunteer coordinator. You get off on the fact that it’s forbidden.”
“It is in no way forbidden for me to date you.”
“Then if it isn’t that, it’s the hot librarian thing. Look at me! I’m sex on a stick!”
She’s wearing a sunflower yellow dress. No makeup. Her rich brown hair is nothing short of wild.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
I decide to push something I’ve been tiptoeing around for weeks.
“You’re right. It’s not enough, what we have right now. I want more.”
Her eyes light up. “So you’ll keep volunteering here?”
No. I need to carve out some time on Saturday mornings to get stuff done at the office, but it should work out well. I’ll work while she’s here, doing story time, then I’ll swing by to pick her up when I’m done. We’ll spend our afternoons at the park, making out, scarring the children.
“Move in with me.” I say it solidly. It’s like I’ve just plucked up all her stuff and dumped it in my house then wiped my hands clean.
“Move in with you,” she repeats with no inflection.
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrow shrewdly. “And what would that entail, exactly?”
“Oh, a key to the place, TV privileges, half the bed—maybe a little less ’cause you know I get cold at night. Some drawers in the closet, I don’t know, however many you want. You can rearrange the kitchen, too, if you don’t like how everything is set up. It definitely could use a woman’s touch.”
She rears back like she’s offended. “So you’re saying my place is in the kitchen?”
“This feels like a trick question.”
She shrugs and drops the act. “You’re right. I’m stalling. Moving in is a big deal. I’ll get mail with my name on it at your house.”
Seems trivial…
“Sure.”
She’s using her hands now as if trying to outline a complicated equation. “Items I purchase online will show up at your door. For me. There.”
“Yes, that’s how the postal system works.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “Wild.”
I tilt my head, amused. “Is it just about the mail? ’Cause you could just get a PO box if a change of address is freaking you out this much.”