Chapter 2

"This had better be an emergency where a bunch of starving puppies and old people are going to freeze to death if I don't drop everything right now and save them," I muttered into the phone.

"Bro, where do you think I hang out? It's a coffee shop. I'll send you the location. And if there were people and animals starving, I'd feed them instead of calling an electrician," Noah said.

"Fine. I'll be right there, but you owe me one. You can work your money boy magic on my farmhouse budget," I quipped.

"It's a deal." Noah didn't argue or try to negotiate. Either he had a fever, or this was one hell of a hot woman he was trying to help out.

I parked illegally outside the door of a coffee shop that occupied the corner unit of an older building. The sign on the door said Muffins on Maple and a bell jingled when I walked in.

"Thank you for coming on short notice. Your brother was in line at the counter when the lights went out and insisted on calling you," she said.

Yep, she was hot alright.

"Noah can be pushy. Baby of the family," I said. "Leo Foster," I introduced myself.

"I'm Madison," she said and shook my hand. She smelled like lemon blossom cake and everything from the curve of her cheek to the dark hair trying to escape from her ponytail seemed to hit me with the impact of a boulder. The kind that rolls right over the cartoon characters and leave them pancake-flat on the ground.

"Let me show you the scene of the crime," she said, "My assistant told me something was wrong with the oven, and I got the idea to see if a breaker was tripped or something. Nothing looked wrong, so I started flipping the switches, and the lights went out. Even when I flipped it back, I couldn't undo the damage. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing you could have done with a breaker that would have caused this," I said, following her back to a storage area. I turned on my Mag-lite and looked at it.

"How old is this box? 1960s?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I know the place was up to code when I signed the lease. I saw the documentation. "

"Okay, I'll see what I can do back here and then I'll take a look at that oven," I said.

She went back to the kitchen, and I surveyed the situation. I replaced a couple fuses and did a workaround to get the lights back on. After a few minutes, I went to find her.

"Hey, I looked it over. I thought maybe you just needed a fuse replaced, which I did, but you aren't pulling enough voltage to run commercial appliances here."

"What does that mean?" she asked. "In terms of the extent of the problem and how much it would take to fix."

"Your electrical system is overloaded. The building isn't up to code, and someone's paid off an inspector for starters. Rewiring will take weeks, and it's not cheap. Let me look at the oven and see if I can get it going."

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate how quickly you came here. I'll be glad to pay the emergency call fee. I just want to get my lights on and the oven up and running so I can reopen in the morning." She said it matter-of-factly as if that were the logical conclusion.

"I'm not trying to predict the future here, but it doesn't look to me like you'll be able to open those doors tomorrow. Bottom line is, it's unsafe."

"Oh," she said. "I see. Well, I'll leave you to inspect the oven."

She was absolutely going to grab her phone and google ‘electrician near me' for another opinion and I knew it. She didn't know me and certainly didn't get the answer she wanted from me. But I wasn't going to risk anyone's life or property, much less my professional reputation, and let a coffee joint burn down because the owner was too stubborn to close for the necessary upgrades.

"I wouldn't bother with a second opinion, although it's your money if you want one. No licensed and bonded electrician would tell you different about this setup," I said.

I heard her make an inarticulate noise that could have been a sigh and put down her phone.

"There has to be something I can do. What size generator should I rent to run the oven and the coffee machines until the wiring's redone?" She said, her jaw set with determination.

This woman did not want to shut down her shop for repairs. To tell the truth, I was impressed by her determination, her search for creative solutions.

After examining the oven, I knew I'd have to tell her how bad the situation was, how expensive it would be. For the first time in my adult life, I didn't want to tell a customer the truth about their wiring trouble. She didn't seem fragile or helpless—she seemed stalwart and tenacious, like she'd stand, stoic as if she were carved from marble when I broke it to her that it would take more than this shop could make in a year to make the electrical circuits safe and to buy a new oven. That thing was on its last legs. ‘Shot to hell' is the term I would have chosen if I were delivering the news to any other customer.

"Can I offer you some cold coffee? A leftover muffin?" She asked with a halfhearted attempt at levity.

"You better sit down," I said as kindly as I could.

Madison indicated one of the little bistro chairs that flanked the four small tables. She poured coffee, grabbed a chocolate muffin from the case and then brought the lantern to the table. I accepted the coffee, which was barely warm and took a drink, nodding my thanks.

"How bad is it?" she said.

"Have you noticed your lights flickering or dimming and coming back on?"

"Yes. It's happened more in the last month. I had it on my list of things to check out, but I didn't get to it before there was a crisis," she said.

"You're working with an overloaded, outdated system, some of the wiring I could get to was mediocre quality to begin with and it's past its lifespan anyway. Did the oven come with the place?"

"It did. It was one of the reasons I decided on this storefront even though it was at the top of my budget. There was another one, better location, but I would've had to put in my own commercial oven, which, as I'm sure you know, is not cheap."

"There used to be a sandwich place here, did toasted subs and stuff. My guess is they had that oven for a long time before you ever got it."

"How long does it have?" She questioned with the gravity of someone asking the prognosis on a beloved relative.

"I'm not sure how to tell you this, ma'am," I replied, hesitating.

"Ma'am? Jesus, it must be really bad," she said.

"You're lucky this place hasn't burned down already. You have some scorching along the wall beside the oven. It's not a black line or anything, but it's following the path of the wire up the wall from the industrial outlet. You need to speak to your landlord about having it fixed. You have renter's insurance, right?" I asked.

"Liability. Like if someone burns themselves on coffee or falls and breaks a tooth."

"I understand," I said. Insurance was expensive and not everyone, especially new business owners, had the extra money for it.

"My landlord isn't easy to get ahold of. Can't I just try to fix it myself?"

"It's legally your landlord's responsibility to make sure the building is safe for his tenants."

She reached over and broke off a piece of the chocolate muffin and ate it. I picked it up and took a bite. "Damn, this is delicious," I said.

She smiled, "Thanks."

"Now I see why Noah called me desperate for a favor. You're his supplier of these."

"He doesn't get the chocolate ones. He eats whatever the special is that week. This week it's pumpkin. They sold out pretty fast."

"I can see why, but I think I'd stick to these. When the chocolate is this good, there's no reason to look any further." I said, sinking my teeth into the luscious muffin again. The chocolate was dark and decadent, with a smoky, cinnamon flavor that tasted mysterious.

"Okay, so how much can I tell my landlord the repairs will cost?"

I gave her an estimate, not willing to lie and lowball her. I saw the muscle in her jaw tighten before she tipped her chin down. "Okay, thank you. What do I owe you for today?" She took out a checkbook, pen poised to write.

"Nothing. My brother called me in as a favor."

"You don't have to do that," she protested, and I could see from the tightening of her mouth that she was uncomfortable.

"You don't owe me anything. I'll work up a specific estimate on the work that has to be done and get it to you in writing. Friends and family rate," I said.

"You deserve to be paid for your time," she said.

"You can give me another muffin."

"How about I bag up the last three of those and you can take them with you," she suggested, getting to her feet. "Thank you for getting the lights back on."

"You're welcome. Listen, I have a couple of contacts in the salvage business. If I hear about any commercial ovens you can get for a good deal, I'll let you know."

"That would be amazing, thank you," she said, her face brightening as if I'd given her the first hope in years.

Why was I volunteering to go out of my way to help a total stranger? Why had my ambitious baby brother done the same? There was something about her that she didn't even seem aware of, something that called out to me and made me want to stay near her, talk with her, get to know her.

"Do you have anyone who can help you out?" I asked, knowing it was none of my business. I was thinking a husband, a boyfriend, her parents.

"Yes," she said staunchly, "Me."

"I'm sorry I asked."

"Because it was sexist?" She said with a raise of her eyebrow.

"No, because it's personal."

"Personally, I've been planning this shop since I was about fifteen. Every penny I saved, every crappy kitchen assistant job I took prepping salads and counting the rolls to put into the basket was working up to this. To getting to open my own place. I have always wanted this and when I thought I had enough money for what I'd figured as startup costs, I worked another whole year to make sure I had a cushion saved up. Because new businesses take money and time you never thought you would need."

"That's very responsible. It must have been hard to put it on hold like that," I said.

"Yes and no. Yes, because I wanted it right that second, of course, but not really because I knew it was the practical thing to do, to have extra money saved in case of emergency. In case my appendix exploded, or my freezer shorted out so all my ingredients had to be replaced all at once, stuff like that. Little things that go wrong."

"An exploding appendix is minor?"

"Compared to this electrical thing, it absolutely is," she said emphatically.

"If you've worked your whole adult life for this, one oven isn't going to stop you now," I assured her.

"I know you're right. It just feels like it could be the end of everything."

Something in her expression made me pause and look at her face more seriously than I wanted to allow myself. She was pretty, I recognized that immediately even before the lights were back on, but it was more than her looks. Madison Stewart had steel in her, determination and stubbornness. More than that was her energy, the passion she had for her shop, her goals, the fact that she was all in.

What arrested my gaze was the tiny, almost invisible curve of the corners of her mouth that betrayed her pride and satisfaction. I wondered how I could make that small admission of pleasure break through her reserve and get her to smile, broad and genuine and bright as the sun. I wanted to delight her, surprise her, take her in my arms and carry her up a long staircase like we were in an old movie. Romantic ideas and erotic ones filled my mind, all the ways I could please her until that single, stingy ‘exactly' was replaced by her crying out at the height of ecstasy.

Stunned by that train of thought, I took a drink of my cold coffee to try to calm my body. Instead, I choked on it because the inappropriate fantasy about the client with the electrical problem had short-circuited my ability to swallow liquids. I coughed, gasped, somehow snorted and felt the burn of the coffee in the back of my nose. It was humiliating. I waved her away when she got to her feet and tried to help me. I coughed into a napkin she offered me, my face going red. I felt like I was trying to breathe underwater. When I was able to rasp out an, ‘I'm fine', she brought me another napkin and took my cup away. Apparently, I couldn't be trusted with coffee now.

"I really appreciate your help, and I'm sorry that my coffee tried to murder you," she said playfully.

Madison was making it difficult to stay professional when she was so likable. I cleared my throat again.

"I'm fine. Thanks for not doing the Heimlich for no reason."

"That doesn't work for choking on liquid. I'm first aid certified. I took that at the same time as my food safety sanitation course."

"I thought it was the Boy Scouts who were always prepared," I said, trying to flirt with her and leave the choking behind us.

"More like a personal philosophy of being prepared for the worst."

"Like electricians choking in your shop?"

"Yeah, and plumbers. Sometimes the people who set up the Wi-Fi," she shrugged. "I'm here to make a tourniquet or do CPR as needed."

"You should put that on the sign instead of Muffins on Maple."

"Maybe I'll consider a rebranding," she laughed.

"I wrote my number on the notepad by the cash register. In case you need to reach me."

"Thank you. I'll hang on to that. I'll put it with Noah's card, which he gave me in case you acted up and I had to call him."

"Oh, yeah? What was he gonna do about it? Make a spreadsheet?" I scoffed, just to make her laugh.

"I dunno, I mean, even though he has a desk job, he looks like he's in pretty good shape and he did say you're his older brother," she teased.

"By one year," I protested. "I turned thirty in March."

"Really?" She said, lifting her eyebrows like she was skeptical and then cracking up laughing.

"Oh, you're feisty. I get it now," I said wryly.

"Nope. Last guy that called me feisty got his ass kicked. Now, I was in middle school at the time and didn't have a lot of impulse control, but don't say I didn't warn you," she said.

"I have to get going, but I'm not sure the rest of my day is going to be as much fun," I said.

As I walked to my truck, I wondered what in hell got into me. It hadn't surprised me that Noah wanted to step in and help someone who needed it—especially when that someone was beautiful. But me? I have a business to run, a farmhouse I'm restoring on weekends. I didn't have time and energy to go around rescuing people or offering to locate discounted commercial ovens for them. It was not my usual vibe at all. I heaved a sigh as I looked at the time. I knew exactly what had gotten into me. She was funny as hell and didn't back down, and I had a feeling I'd be calling in favors to help her in any way I could.

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