Stirring Up Trouble Read Free Page A

got to tell that story to Curt.”
    Maddie gritted her teeth and screamed in frustration. She couldn’t hear the music in this bedroom, but the people loitering in the parking lot might as well be sitting on her bed as they told their drunken tales.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œRosewood Sheriff’s Department,” a chipper woman’s voice answered. “How can I assist you?”
    â€œHello? 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.