Faux-Ever Rules

Movement catches my eye — a shadow cast by a man. Every hair on my neck stands up. A surge of adrenaline courses through my arms, making the muscles twitch.

There's no good reason for someone to be creeping around outside the café when it's closed.

The narrow beam of light that streams out of the open kitchen door to the café tells me all I need to know. Maddy is working late — alone.

Before I've even had time to process the scene playing out in front of me, my brain thrusts my body into action. I sprint toward the shadow on the balls of my feet.

I'm almost on the man when he jolts suddenly. My voice booms as I race toward him, “Don't move!”

His eyes (cid:4)ash toward me, then he launches himself at the building with lightning speed.

I growl, “Bastard!” And hurtle my mass toward him. The thick meat of my shoulder collides with his ribs. The man's limbs (cid:4)y into the air. The shadows of the alley swallow us into charcoal darkness.

It feels like minutes, but I know it's just a few seconds that we roll around in a blur of pavement, grunts, and twisting arms. My knee collides hard with the dumpster, making a loud bang.

I slam his back onto the concrete curb, knocking all the air out of him which gives me the advantage to pin him on his back.

Getting right in his face I growl, “You slimy fucker.” The man's body is like a sack of bones — he's a damn stick (cid:5)gure. No muscle, just twigs bent at weird angles. He gasps something that sounds like “Wait” with his mouth working like a (cid:5)sh for several seconds. Then he groans, “I'm working... checking a propane line.”

The screen door to the kitchen of Beach Vibes Café bangs open. Maddy's golden curls are lit like a halo around her head, illuminated by the yellow light behind her.

Her shriek pierces the night air as she clasps her head, “What in the world? Mark? Oh, my god! Oh, no! Christian, let him go.”

I sit up, narrow my eyes on her, “You know this guy?” She rushes toward us. “I certainly do. He's my propane man.”

The boney arms wiggle beneath my knees. “See, I told you.”

I glare at the bastard. A silent threat not to move another muscle.

Maddy grabs my shoulder with both her hands, “You big lug... Mark has been my propane guy for years. He was here to check a line. Please, let him up.”

I slide back and give the (cid:4)at rack of bones a (cid:5)nal look. A glare that says I'd gladly grind him into the pavement again. That's when I see the tag on his shirt that reads Coastal Propane.

Mark the propane guy groans, rolls to his side, tries to heave himself up. He probably doesn't feel so hot right now, since he just had two hundred and thirty pounds land on his coat-rack of a body.

I extend a hand to help him up, “Sorry.” He accepts the hand — not the apology. As he shakes out his clothes, tucks his uniform shirt back in, he winces. “I've been chased by dogs, attacked by a pet pig, hit on by crazy women, screamed at in ten languages, but I've never been tackled by a linebacker.”

I shrug. “Shouldn't have been creeping around in the dark.”

“Christian, what happened?” Maddy demands. “He was lurking around behind the café in the dark, walking toward the open screen door. I knew you were alone; your car is the only one here.”

“And what about that big ass propane truck?” Skinny guy asks.

I glance around. Oh that... “Not like it was in the parking lot.” I reason. He bites out, “Because it won't (cid:5)t.” Maddy presses her (cid:5)ngers to the bridge of her nose. “Okay, you two just need to quit. I've had enough drama for one night.” She spins on her heels and swishes her pretty little apron-wearing ass back into the café.

Glancing over at the guy, I grumble, “I was just worried about her.”

He nods. “If she was my woman, she wouldn't be around this late at night by herself.”

My anger starts to churn in my chest again. “She's not my woman. But I'm gonna see if I can talk some sense into her.”

He backs away, turns toward his truck that's parked along the side street. “Good luck with that. I'm out of here. Tell her the propane line is (cid:5)ne.”

I take a breath before I open the screen. When I feel a tad more in control of my frustration, I peck on the solid metal door. It's now closed and locked like it should be.

Her voice sounds small on the other side of the heavy door.

“What?”

“Maddy, let me in.” There's a beat of silence. “Open up.” The door swishes open and I'm met with the smell of cinnamon and sugar. My mouth instantly waters.

Magically, all my anger at her evaporates. “Are those... the cookies?” The little round cinnamon cookies I can't resist buying whenever I visit her shop.

She narrows her brows at me, plants her hands on her hips.

“Maybe.”

“Sorry I (cid:4)attened him.”

“You just say that because you want cookies. He weighs a hundred pounds less than you. That was horrible. Poor guy.”

I step into the warm light of the kitchen. “I thought he was an intruder.”

I really shouldn't be apologizing for it. Something just clicked. My protector mode (cid:4)ipped to the red zone. I'd have fought a rhino with my bare hands if it meant keeping the bastard away from innocent little Maddy.

But, apparently, Maddy doesn't approve. She just stares at me — pins me with those bright green eyes of hers. The eyes that always make me wish I was a di(cid:6)erent person than I am — a person that is capable of asking a woman like her on a date or three.

But she's so young. So sweet... so everything that gets trampled by me.

I do love what I see, though. And I curse my cock for noticing. But the adorable blonde-haired, green-eyed sprite in front of me is the best part of the reason I visit her little shop every few days. Of course, the bear cookies don't hurt.

My eyes glide over her. I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. But what (cid:4)ares in my gut isn't just lust, it's anger that's simmering low and tight in my core.

Whatever that is she's wearing tonight... well, she shouldn't be wearing it because it shows o(cid:6) her pretty shoulders and accents her small perfect breasts in a way that would drive any man mad.

I clench my jaw, (cid:5)ghting the part of me that wants to act like a caveman.

“Well, I guess I owe you a thank you, even if it was misguided.”

I lean my hip on the counter as I consider what to say about her choice of clothes, but then I see a baking sheet full of my favorite cookies. The (cid:4)at ones with the California bear imprint on top of them.

They're a lot like something my mom used to make before she passed, but these have some kind of Maddy magic in them. Bear cookies, I call them. Maddy calls them Grizzly Bites. I reach out to pick up one, but she smacks my hand away. “No, no. I didn't say you could.” I snatch one anyway. It's a little power play, and I'm pretty sure she knows it.

Maddy, all (cid:5)ve feet two of her, is full of light and sunshine, and love. And she's foolishly trusting of humankind.

Her eyes (cid:4)ick over my face, “Christian Archer. What in the world is into you tonight?”

“I'm ticked at you.” She jolts back, “Me? I'm minding my businesses, baking your favorite cookies, I might add. So, what in the world did I do to tick you o(cid:6)?”

“For starters, not locking the door.” I drop my eyes to her porcelain cleavage. “Then there's that top. And then there's the fact that you're here at nine o'clock at night by yourself.”

She shakes her head; the little grin on her face draws my eyes back up, “You're such a grouchy ass.”

I scowl. There's nothing funny about this. I am royally irritated at her.

She returns to whatever she does in her kitchen, mumbling as she turns her back, “Leave me alone. I've had enough nuttiness for one day.”

“What nuttiness can go on in a place like this? Did you burn the scones? Explode a smoothie?”

She shakes her head. Was that an eye roll I saw? “No. It's my mom.” She opens her mouth like she's ready to say something else, then she stops abruptly.

“Family can be a major P.I.T.A.” I o(cid:6)er. She suddenly wrings her hands and gets this look on her face, like she's about to explode.

“I'm all ears if you need to vent.” She shakes her head, “Let's just say it's a gigantic mess of my own doing.”

I pick up another cookie, pop it into my mouth. Chew it slowly as she watches.

Her eyes narrow. “Devil.”

“Sometimes.”

“You are. Now, quit raiding my cookies.” I pull out my wallet and throw a crisp twenty on the counter. She laughs. Shoves the bill back at me, “I don't want your money.”

“Are you (cid:5)nished, and ready to leave? Because I'm just going to keep eating cookies until we walk out, lock up, and you leave for the night.”

Her shoulders drop. “Christian, you can't be serious.” I pluck another bear cookie. She yanks the bow out of her apron string and tosses the thing on the counter with a snap. “You big meanie. You're gonna eat me out of business.”

“Two minutes and another one goes down.” She growls and hustles o(cid:6), turning o(cid:6) machines, (cid:4)ipping light switches. She grabs the tray of cookies and turns to do whatever it is she does when she puts them away.

I reach over her shoulder and grab one more. “I know you're gonna be longer than two minutes.”

“Argh!” I chuckle. It's more like three minutes, but she does a good job of wrapping things up in a hurry. I won't be satis(cid:5)ed until I see her safely in her little Mini Cooper, and on her way. Once the shop is locked up tight, we walk across the lot toward her favorite parking spot.

“Maddy, you can't stay late like this by yourself.”

“I love working at night. No one bothers me. It's where I (cid:5)nd peace when my head is full of junk. It's so quiet down here on the beach at night. I'm (cid:5)ne.”

Growling, I look away. Infuriating woman. Her hand surprises me when it lands on my arm. It's small and warm. Every cell in my body stands at attention. A zing of electricity zips right up to my shoulder. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“I'm not the only one.”

“The Archer brothers keeping tabs on me?” Her hand falls away, and I watch those delicate (cid:5)ngers (cid:4)utter to her throat.

“Of course. Someone's got to look out for you.” I'm surprised as hell that one of my brothers hasn't made a move on Maddy already. She's pretty, obviously single, and in easy reach. Honestly, I can't (cid:5)gure it out.

Maddy's eyes soften, “Well, thanks for keeping an eye on me, but I'm perfectly safe and happy.”

I try to think of something to counter her. “Maddy...” She laughs. “Christian. If it makes you feel better, I'll lock the door.”

“That's not the answer I was looking for.”

“It's the only answer you're getting.”

“Get some pepper spray at the least. And take my number in case you need someone to come to walk you out.”

Maddy digs her cell phone from her purse, I enter my contact details.

“Seriously. Any time, day or night.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she smiles, waves me o(cid:6) with a laugh.

Maddy... always happy. Always light and free. Like a little butter(cid:4)y (cid:4)itting on the wind. Infuriatingly oblivious.

I'm half tempted to show up and chase her o(cid:6) every evening.