Matt cocked a brow, but there was no doubt in
his mind to what Sara was referring. Madison
and her married-man drama had been the topic
of conversation for over a week now, and quite
frankly, it was getting old. Not that it was at all
surprising that Jeff had gone back to his wife. He
could have told Madison they always go back, but
she wouldn’t have listened.
“Is she still in that sweatshirt?”
“Yes, and it’s time we did something about it.”
How did he get roped into this? “What’s this we
business?”
Sara narrowed her gaze on her brother, a warning
tone that he had heard so many times in his youth
vibrated through her words. “Matthew Daniel
Stratford, you march your butt right on over to that
apartment and help me do something with that
girl.”
Matt stifled a laugh. “God, you sound like Mom.”
“March.” She pointed to the front door.
He knew when he was licked. No one said no
to his baby sister . . . no one. He turned through
the open door and stormed across the hall. Sara
followed silently behind him as he shoved his way
into Madison’s apartment.
“Run a bath,” he said as he headed for the
bedroom.
Sara swept past him and disappeared into the
adjoining bathroom. “Maddie, you’ve got to come
out of there.” When she gave no response, he
gathered the comforter in his hands and yanked
it clean from the bed, letting it pool at his feet. His
gaze swept up the length of her. Over the rumpled
sweatshirt to her mass of blonde locks to the dark
smudges of makeup beneath her eyes. “I gotta
tell ya, hun. This emo thing you got going on ain’t
exactly a turn on.”
“Go away,” Madison grumbled as she buried her
head beneath the pillow.
“Not happening.” He took hold of one of her
ankles. “We’re not going anywhere ’til you get out
of that awful thing.”
She tried to kick his hand away, but Matt refused
to release his grip. She wasn’t getting away that
easily . . . not again.
“You going to take that thing off or am I going to
have to do it for you?”
Madison peeked at him from beneath the pillow,
her emerald eyes alight with a wicked fire. “You
wouldn’t dare.”
Matt let out a muffled laugh. Oh wouldn’t he? He
scooped her into his arms. Her small frame and
that ridiculous oversized sweatshirt that smelled of
another man’s musk cuddled against his chest.
“Put me down, you big brute!” she screamed as
she struggled against him.
“Gladly.” Matt tightened his grip on her even as
she fought him. He stormed past Sara into the
bathroom and held Madison over the full tub.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she warned again, eyeing the
bathtub wearily.
“Oh, I think you know me better than that.” Without
giving her a chance for further protest, he plopped
her down into the water.
Madison flailed about in the tub, splashing water
over the ledge and soaking the rug beneath his
feet. “You jerk!” she cursed as she drew herself
upright, wiping away the droplets on her face.
Matt picked up the bar of soap on the ledge and
tossed it into the bath water. “Why don’t you give
yourself a scrub while you are in there? You smell
like three-day-old Chinese.”
January 2014 | 33