Rules Of Engagement

17

The downside is a tendency toward bein’ anal retentive, which Maddie suffers from in spades. I love her to bits, but in comparison the child makes people with obsessive-compulsive disorders look like underachievers.

But today, her aura is a brilliant bloody red, hotly pulsing, all ragged around the edges like a fresh wound.

What does that mean, you ask? Well, darlin’, I’ll tell you:

Sexual energy. Loads of it.

My proper, buttoned-down niece’s lady bits were lit up like a Christmas tree and her hormones were goin’ off like a fireworks show on the 4th of July.

Now, that by itself would’ve been odd enough. Maddie’s about as s****l as a Hallmark card. But then I saw who was followin’ her as she made her way toward the side church doors, and my best Sunday hat almost flew right off my head.

And when I say who, I mean what. In all my life, I’ve only once before seen an aura like his… and it gave me such a start, I screamed.

Yessiree, Mason Spark’s energy field is so powerful it could probably be seen from outer space. You know, the same way a category 5 hurricane can.

Or a nuclear explosion.

“Why, hello, Mr. Spark! How nice to see you again!”

I wriggle my fingers and beam at him as I pretend not to notice Maddie havin’ a nervous breakdown right next to him on the pew.

I know she’s mortified enough as it is, bein’ emotional in public. But bein’ turned on in public— now that’s really tossing her salad.

She’s probably mistakin’ it for indigestion.

It’s fantastic, if I do say so myself.

I’ve been waitin’ for ages for somethin’ to come along that was strong enough to disrupt her rigid routine, and by golly if this good-lookin’ tatted up hunk of man isn’t it.

Yes, I’m oglin’ his forearm tattoos. If Jesus won’t judge me, you don’t get to, either!

“Hey,” says Mason, looking dumbfounded as he stares at Maddie. Then he gazes at me for help. “Uh, I’m not sure how, but I think I’m responsible for this.”

He points at her. All red-faced and squinty-eyed and lips puckered up so tight they look like a cluster of hemorrhoids.

Poor baby. The only other time I’ve seen her get emotional is at her parents’ funeral when she was sixteen. Right after that is when she started dressin’ like she was Amish and smilin’ so hard I thought her face would crack from the strain.

Everybody deals with grief in their own way.

Me? I drank my way through a few barrels of wine and took a lover half my age until the worst of it had passed and I could look at my sister’s picture without wishin’ out loud that it had been me instead of her in the car that rainy night.

Maddie went the other way. She didn’t act out. She held it all in.

In my personal opinion, that’s far more dangerous.

“I told him it was my allergies.” She begs me with her eyes to play along. If she slides any lower in the pew, she’ll be on the floor.

“Ah, the allergies,” I say with a straight face. “Terrible this time of year.”

When she closes her eyes in relief, I send a conspiratorial wink to Mason. He misses my meaning and raises his brows like he thinks I’m makin’ a pass at him, right here in church, for the love of the holy ghost.

So the boy’s not the brightest bulb.

Still pretty, though. And I can tell he likes Maddie, because his crazy hurricane aura is all dreamy purple on the side next to her, so I can deal with him bein’ a trifle dim.

There are much worse things in life than bein’ a few cards short of a full deck, if you know what I mean.

Looking slightly relieved by all the allergy talk but still hesitant, Mason glances at Maddie. He bites his lower lip.

Bites his lip. Land’s end, I’ve never seen anything so sexy.

Resisting the urge to fan myself, I sit down next to Maddie and pretend not to notice her absolute horror when I reach across her, take one of Mason’s big man paws in my hands, and open my mouth.

“Now, tell me, Mr. Spark, how’s the wife search goin’? Because there are several fine young ladies I’d be happy to introduce you to this morning.”

Maddie bolts upright. “No more matches! We’re doing dating coaching now, that’s all!” “Oh, I see.” Instead of smirking, I bat my lashes innocently.

Maddie givin’ dating advice to this stud makes about as much sense as a bird teachin’ a fish how to swim, but her juicy red aura is tellin’ me everything I need to know about why she’s not settin’ him up with any more women.

Even if she’s tellin’ herself otherwise.

Which she most certainly is. The girl wouldn’t recognize desire if it walked right up to her and smacked her in the face.

Then, with suspicious nonchalance, Mason drawls, “Actually, I’d be grateful if you could introduce me around. Church seems like the perfect place to find a good wife.”

When Maddie shoots him a frosty glare and he ignores it and sends me a lazy smile, I think I might have underestimated him.

Maybe this boy isn’t as dim as he seems.

I wrack my brain for the name that will most appall Maddie. Because if I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it right.

When I find it, I nearly giggle.

I give Mason’s hand a squeeze and sit back so I can better take in Maddie’s expression when I lob this grenade into her lap.

“I wholeheartedly agree! And I know just the girl for you, if I do say so myself. Bettina Walters will be so excited to meet you.”

Two bright spots of red appear on Maddie’s cheeks. Through stiff lips, she repeats slowly, “Bettina Walters? Are you crazy?” She’s furious.

Lord forgive me, but this is gonna be so. Much. Fun.