Miss Matchmaker: A Small Town Romance Page 10

  “Goddamnit,” I say. “Why do you city people have to wear sandals?” I ask, looking at Mila’s feet.

  “Because I hate socks?” she tries.

  “Bet you wish you had some right now, don’t you?”

  “We could try your shirt,” she suggests.

  “Not a bad idea…” I strip my shirt, trying the same technique as before. This time it lands just in front of a man, who only stops long enough to step around it. The white shirt is trampled by the crowds moments later.

  “Jesus. Are city people really this oblivious?” I ask. “What now?”

  “Your pants?”

  I turn to her with a look of disbelief. “I’m starting to think you planned this.”

  She throws her hands up innocently. “This was your idea, in case you forgot.”

  “You’re lucky I’m a gentleman,” I say with a grin as I stand and start to strip out of my pants. “But we’re using your shirt before I lose my boxers.”

  “Fine, but make sure you hit someone this time.”

  I drop the balled up jeans and watch with fascination as they gain speed. By the time they collide with a poor man below, they are like a denim bullet. They catch him directly on the top of his head and he drops to the ground with a thud I think I can almost hear even from up here.

  Mila claps her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God. You killed him.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” I say with about fifty percent certainty. “I just… stunned him.”

  “You stunned him to death,” she persists.

  “No. Look, he’s alive enough to yell for help. See how people are gathering around him?”

  “That lady is holding your jeans! Damn it! Look up here! Not over there!”

  “Throw your shirt down there,” I say quickly. “They’re all trying to figure out what happened. We need to get their attention while we still can.”

  Mila sighs, but strips off her shirt and throws it down.

  It drifts wide of the crowd, landing uselessly in the street.

  “Pants!” I say.

  “I’m not going to--”

  “Give me those pants!” I say, unzipping her jeans for her and ripping them down. She grudgingly helps me get her jeans and hands them to me.

  I ball them up and drop them again, watching with horror as they take a curving path straight for the man who is lying injured on his back.

  “Oh no!” cries Mila.

  The jeans thud straight into his stomach, making his legs and head kick up like a dying bug. He rolls onto his side and the crowd all finally look straight up this time.

  Mila and I both jump up and down as carefully as we can next to the ledge of the roof, waving our arms, completely oblivious to the fact that we’re both in our underwear.

  It’s not long before the crowd of people looking up at us is huge and I see at least half of the crowd on cell phones.

  “Do you think they’re calling for help, or calling for a S.W.A.T. team to come take out the jean-ball terrorists?” I ask.

  “What?” asks Mila. “You think they’d think we did it on purpose?”

  I can’t help laughing a little. “Maybe. It probably looks like we were trying to assassinate that poor guy with our pants.”

  “Assassinate?” she asks, planting her hands on her hips. “Please tell me that wasn’t an attempt at a pun.”

  I burst out laughing, despite everything. “Damn, I wish it had been. That’s good.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asks.

  “Wait, I guess?”

  “Just wait? We’re both in our underwear and it’s only a matter of time before one of those people calls the news stations. We have to think of something!” Mila runs to the staircase door and starts pounding her fists on it uselessly.

  I’m torn between stopping her and standing to watch the way her ass jiggles every time she takes a shot at the door. I notice the sound of a helicopter getting closer. I squint into the distance and see a helicopter that must have been surveying traffic is banking directly toward us. “Oh shit,” I say.

  “What now?” asks Mila.

  I point.

  “Oh God,” she says, covering her breasts with one hand and her panties with the other. “This is your fault. I never should’ve come out here!”

  I would laugh at the whole situation, but my stomach sinks when I think about what will happen when our faces are blasted over the news stations. “Ronnie’s going to know exactly where to find us. Dammit!”

  “You think he’ll see us on TV?”

  “Sure do. And I don’t think it’ll be long before he’s making his way here.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I’ll think of something…” I say, though right now I really don’t see any options. As far as I can see it, we’re stuck on a roof, in our underwear, while a news helicopter gets closer and closer. It’s only a matter of time before Ronnie zeroes in on us, unless Cynthia was absolutely full of it, and I’m inclined to think she wasn’t. I don’t think the woman is creative enough to even come up with a lie as improbable as all this.

  The helicopter gets so close that the dust and dirt on the roof is kicked up in a violent cloud. I pull Mila to me and shield her body with my own, trying my best to hide our faces against the wall. My brother will probably recognize me eventually, but it won’t hurt to buy time and spare Mila’s dignity as much as I can.

  “It’s so loud!” she shouts, but her voice is barely audible over the roar of the chopper blades.

  A spotlight blares on us, making our shadows stand out starkly against the door as the helicopter endlessly circles us. I can only hope someone has called the hotel and let them know we need to be let in, but I have no way of knowing.

  After what seems like an hour of huddling together and bracing ourselves against the violent gusts of the helicopter blades, the door bursts open beside us. To my amusement, a full S.W.A.T. team emerges onto the roof, rifles drawn.

  The helicopter thankfully pulls back a little, reducing the roar of the wind to a minor annoyance instead of ear-numbing.

  “Hands up!” Shouts one of the masked men.

  I put my hands up, still shielding Mila with my body.

  “Her too! Step away from the woman!”

  “Not as long as that camera is up there,” I growl.

  One of the men waves off the camera to no effect. Another man gets on his radio and mutters something I can’t hear. There’s a tense pause as we wait with guns pointed at us. Finally, the helicopter swerves away and leaves.

  “A fucking S.W.A.T. team?” I ask. “Does it look like we’re hiding weapons anywhere? Trust me, if I was going to knock you guys out with a pair of jeans, I’d have done it by now. Hell, if I had another pair I’d still be wearing them.”

  “Step away from the woman,” repeats one of the men.

  “Get her a blanket to cover up with and I will.”

  I can see the annoyance in the men’s body language, but someone runs down the stairwell, returning a surprisingly short time later with a big black blanket he tosses to MIla. Once she’s covered, I step away from her and do as they say.

  “Why did you attack the man down on the street?”

  “We didn’t attack anyone,” I sigh.

  “Then why did you target him twice? Witnesses said you made a second attempt on his life when the first failed.”

  I have to stop from rolling my eyes or laughing, I can’t decide which. “I dropped clothes from a thirty story building to get people’s attention. You think I could’ve done that on purpose?”

  The men shift a little uneasily, either because they realize how ridiculous they must look now or because they think I’m some kind of jean tossing assassin. Honestly, I’m okay with either possibility.

  One by one, they lower their guns. “You’re going to have to come down to the station and answer questions,” says one of the men.

  13

  Mila

  The police let us go after questioning us b
oth separately. I find Lucas waiting for me in the lobby of the station. He looks relieved when he sees they gave me some plain clothes to change into. He rushes toward me, cupping my face on either side and leaning his neck to look into my eyes. “You okay?” he asks

  A small smile pulls at my lips. I lean my head forward to rest on his scruffy chin. “When I’m with you.”

  He wraps me up in a hug. I close my eyes, relishing in how it feels to be crushed by his embrace, how easy it is to forget that someone out there might actually want to hurt me, that I could be in danger. It all feels so unreal when I’m with Lucas, like nothing could make it past his protective strength.

  As if reading my mind, he runs a hand through my hair and sighs contentedly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, darlin’. Not a thing.”

  “Not even good things?” I ask with a mischievous smirk. I pull back to look up into his eyes.

  “I said I won’t let anything happen. Good things? You can count on those because I’m going to make them happen.”

  “I’ll take that,” I say, biting my lip. “So… have you thought of a plan?”

  “Sort of,” he says. He lifts up his thumb and forefinger, dangling a set of keys before me.

  “What are those?”

  “Our escape plan.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  He looks around a little suspiciously, then moves me closer to the wall where there are fewer people within earshot. “Think about it. Ronnie and his goons could be waiting outside right now. If they saw the news story, they would’ve seen us get taken away in police cruisers by S.W.A.T. So what’ll they expect?”

  “For us to walk out of here eventually?”

  “Yeah. They’re going to be looking for us on foot. Know where they won’t be looking for us?”

  “Please tell me this isn’t going where I think it is.”

  “Driving a police cruiser,” he says with a wicked grin.

  “Lucas!” I whisper urgently. “You can’t be serious. Stealing a police car is like… They’d probably dig the electric chair out of storage for that.”

  He puffs dismissively. “Probably just a felony or something. But that’s only if we get caught. Don’t worry. We’ll ditch the car way before they can trace it back to us.”

  I cover my face with my hands. “I’m in love with an insane person. It’s official.” My heart clenches and my stomach feels like it just froze over. Did I really just drop the “L” bomb by accident? I peek out at Lucas from between my fingers, afraid of what I’ll see on his face.

  He’s grinning like an idiot. A gorgeous, handsome, idiot. “Hot damn,” he says, sounding far more country in that moment than I’ve heard from him yet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just professed your love for me.”

  “Stop,” I whimper, wanting to curl into a ball and throw myself down a drain somewhere so I can just drift out to sea and forget this ever happened.

  “Oh hell no. Not a goddamn chance in mother-lovin’ hell am I going to stop now. If you wanted to get rid of me, you just made a big mistake, darlin’.”

  I chew on my lip, watching him and loving how the excitement is written so plainly on his face. “Is that right?”

  He hooks his hand around my waist, pulling me into him and making me feel so small and fragile in his powerful grip. He plants a tender kiss on my lips, letting his touch linger as long as he pleases before pulling back and smiling crookedly. “Damn right it is. Now c’mon. We’ve got a cop car to steal.”

  I look to the ceiling and shake my head, because I know I’m about to go along with this insane plan.

  “Now the trick here is we just have to look like we know what we’re doing. Pretend you’re supposed to be here, and no one will question us. Okay?”

  “That doesn’t really work.”

  “Not with that attitude, it won’t. Trust me. Just follow my lead.”

  Sure enough, Lucas has no trouble looking confident, and he starts casually walking toward an elevator that’s definitely in an area of the police station meant for official use only. I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or if he’s really right, but no one so much as gives us a second glance. I have to force myself to step into the elevator because it’s crowded with four men and a woman in police uniforms. Lucas doesn’t even hesitate. He leads me in, turns around, and crosses his hands in front of his waist.

  “Mind pressing the basement for me?” he asks the woman who stands closest to the buttons.

  I give him an incredulous look, but his only response is the faint flicker of a smile on his mouth. The crazy bastard is enjoying this… I really must be out of my mind to go along with this. My heart is thundering so hard in my chest I’m legitimately afraid I might pass out.

  The woman gives him a smile that makes me want to throat punch her, then pushes the button. Eyes off, a voice inside me growls. He’s mine.

  I would laugh at myself if I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. Listen to me. First I tell a guy I’ve known a little over a week I love him, now I’m getting ready to go postal on a police officer just for smiling at him. Still… She should keep her eyes to herself.

  “You guys hear about the naked jean terrorists?” asks Lucas.

  My back goes rigid and my eyes bulge. Is he fucking serious? I nudge him as subtly as I can, but his grin only widens.

  To my surprise, his question is met with laughter from everyone in the elevator. I have no choice but to join in the laughter, but in my current state I can only manage a wheezing, confused kind of high-pitched whine. Thankfully, one of the officers has such a loud laugh that my own is drowned out in the small space.

  “Yeah, man,” says an officer with a mustache. “Fuckers were picking people off with pairs of fucking jeans from fifty stories up. Absolutely classic.”

  “We should see if they want to sign up to be a sniper for the force,” adds another man. “Could use that kind of guy on our side.”

  “Yeah,” agrees Lucas, and I can tell from the way his grin is growing that he’s about to say something absolutely stupid. “I guess accuracy is in his genes.”

  There’s a collective pause, then another burst of raucous laughter.

  The door dings, and all the officers file out, clapping Lucas on the back as they go. When the doors close again and we’re by ourselves, I raise my eyebrows at him and give him as hard a shove as I can. “In his genes? You almost got me arrested for murdering you in front of an elevator full of police officers.”

  Lucas chuckles, leaning against the back railing of the elevator. “I thought it was jeanius.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “I can’t even…” I say, shaking my head and following him into the parking garage full of police vehicles.

  “How do we know which car the keys are for?”

  “It’s got one of those clickie things,” he says, holding the keys in the air and pressing the button a few times until the tail lights burst into life on a cruiser not far from us. “Jackpot. C’mon. Let’s go.”

  I know I should put a stop to all of this before it gets out of hand, but in so many ways it already has, and the more time I spend around Lucas Tate the more I think he’s closer to a force of nature than a man. He wills it and it becomes truth. If he wants to steal a freaking police cruiser and drive out to the country with it, he’s going to do it. If he doesn’t want to get caught in the process, he won’t. It seems so easy to believe it when I can set my eyes on him, but as soon as I close them, it’s like the spell is broken.

  I don’t want to stop believing in him, though. The complete sense of peace I feel around him is as intoxicating as a drug, and I never want to lose it, so my feet move before my brain even gives the okay, and the next thing I know, I’m hopping into the passenger seat of a stolen police car.

  “This is beyond a bad idea. You know that right?”

  He turns the key in the ignition. “You keep telling me that, but here you are,” he says, flicking his eyebrows up casual
ly.

  I sigh, buckling myself in and bracing myself for what’s to come. “Here I am,” I say to myself.

  “Well, if there’s one positive to this insanity, it’s that I’m now less worried about your brother and his friends trying to kidnap me and more worried about the police coming after us because we’re stealing one of their cars. How did you even get the keys, anyway?”

  “Well,” he says, pulling out of the parking garage, where a group of onlookers are standing with members of the press--I can only assume they are hoping for a chance at the illustrious jean assassins.

  Just as we take the corner, I notice a familiar face in the crowd. Ronnie Tate. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets against the cold of the night, watching the door intently and with so much violence in his eyes that I’m sure everything Cynthia told Lucas was true. Every bit of it.

  “Did you--” I start.

  “Yeah,” says Lucas grimly. “That was him.”

  I shiver, crossing my arms around myself and sinking a little lower in the seat. “So, tell me how you got the keys. I need something to take my mind off that look on his face.”

  “Right,” Lucas says, who looks to be regaining his composure with some effort. “They asked me their questions, and then they told me to head back to the lobby. One of the guys was going to walk me down there, but I told him I had to take a leak. He told me it was down the hall, so I did a little exploring when he left me on my own. Didn’t take long to find a place with a bunch of cubicles and computers. I poked around a bit, made some smalltalk, and found a pair of keys sitting on someone’s desk. Snagged them and left.”

  I shake my head. “Are you sure you’re a cowboy and not a thief?”

  “You’d be surprised how much cows are like people. Walk into a herd of cows like you’re nervous or you don’t belong and you’ll spook them. You might even catch a hoof in the crotch if you’re unlucky. But if you take to it like you belong there? They won’t pay you any mind. It’s natural.”

  “Who would’ve thought being a cowboy prepares you to be a thief.”

  “You know, you never told me what the hell made you get into being a matchmaker.”