Stirring Up Trouble (6 page)

The door opened and Maddie's brothers Grant and Blake slipped inside. Emmett waved, expecting the brothers to find a table in front of the television, but they came to sit at the bar instead.

“Not here for the game?” Emmett asked. Blake was a retired quarterback in the NFL. He typically came to watch a game every Sunday evening with his brothers.

“Not today,” Blake said.

“Although we'll still take a cold beer,” Grant added with a smile.

“Will do.” Emmett pulled out two frosted mugs from the case and poured each of the brothers their favorite brews. “So, if not football, why are you here? Are you going to give me a good talking-to for harassing your sister?”

Blake laughed. “Lord, no. Trust us, we know exactly how she can be. We lived with her for years. Hell, poor Mitchell had to share a uterus with her.”

Emmett's brows went up in surprise as he passed them their drinks. “She's a twin?”

“Yep, the illustrious Chamberlain twins. Never have two people so different come out of the same person at one time.”

“I've never met Mitchell,” Emmett admitted. “What's he like?”

“He's the smart one in the family,” Grant said. “More serious than the rest of us. He was always great in school, the valedictorian of his class. He studied while the rest of us played football and chased girls. And now, years later, Blake's a cripple, I've settled down into monogamy, and he's about to graduate from Vanderbilt as a doctor. Time better spent, I'd wager.”

“I'm not a cripple,” Blake complained.

Emmett knew about Blake's old football injury—anyone who watched ESPN or lived in Rosewood did. It'd taken him out of the NFL and brought him home to coach the high school team. It didn't hold him back, though. He'd managed to make it to the state championships and get rock star Ivy Hudson to agree to marry him, so it wasn't all bad. He could tell Grant just liked to rag on his brother.

And he was right. The two brothers started bickering, as they usually did, so Emmett took a moment to check on the rest of the patrons. Another bowl of pretzels and a second pitcher of beer took care of things. By the time he settled back behind the bar, the two brothers were once again quietly drinking their beers.

“The point of all that,” Grant continued, “is that he's very different from Maddie. They're each perfectionists in their own way, but he's a lot more fun to be around. He's serious, but at least he's got a sense of humor. I guess you've got to have one to spend all your formative years with Maddie.”

“Poor bastard,” Emmett noted. At the very least, Emmett got to admire her beauty while she railed at him. A brother just had to tolerate her with no recourse. “No wonder your brother moved to Tennessee.”

Blake shrugged and sipped his beer. “He'll be back. He's in his last year of med school. I'm not sure where he'll do his residency, but I'm certain he'll come back to Rosewood before too long. Someone has to take over Doc Owen's clinic. That man has been practicing for forty years. He's almost seventy, I think.”

“Just as long as there's someone in town to treat my wounds when the judge throws the book at me tomorrow.”

“You don't think it'll be that bad, do you?” Blake asked.

“I don't know,” Emmett admitted. “I've never had to go in front of a judge before. I don't even know who Judge Griffin is. If he comes in here, he doesn't do it in his robe.”

“I doubt he's been here,” Grant said with a chuckle. “He's more likely to be hanging out with my grandmother's set at the country club than this crowd.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better, man.” Emmett knew he was in trouble. He wasn't only going up against the judge, he was doing it over a dispute with the daughter of the most powerful family in town. Chances were, she would get a little hand slap and he would take the brunt of it, with her grandmother and her father sitting in the front row of the courtroom eyeing Judge Griffin. While Emmett had made some influential friends in town, they'd likely all side with poor, sweet Maddie in this case.

“Would you feel better with a lawyer?” Grant asked.

Emmett couldn't suppress a chuckle at that suggestion. “Who am I going to hire? Your father?”

“No, of course not. What about Logan Anthony?”

Blake's brow went up at that suggestion. “Do you really think going into the courtroom with Logan will make it better? You know Dad'll be there. That stupid business rivalry they've got going is getting pretty ridiculous. I don't think Emmett wants to draw that kind of attention.”

Blake was probably right. When Pepper's older brother, Logan, moved back to Rosewood and opened up his own law firm, it had been a big to-do in town. The Chamberlain firm had never faced any kind of competition before. Most people assumed that Logan would go out of business pretty quickly, but he'd actually been fairly successful from what Emmett had heard. The rivalry between the two firms had gotten pretty heated over the summer, but Logan refused to back down. Emmett got the feeling that Norman wasn't used to not getting his way. Obviously, Maddie had gotten that trait from her father.

Grant shrugged dismissively. “Who cares what Dad thinks? Logan is going to be a part of my family one day. I have to support him or I'll hear about it at home.”

Emmett put the information about Logan in his back pocket. He didn't think he needed a lawyer. At least not yet. But if he did, his only choice was Logan. Either way, he didn't really want to talk about this anymore. He was anxious enough about tomorrow. “I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of home, how's the work coming on Pepper's house, Grant?”

Last March, an electrical fire had wiped out half the home Pepper and Grant had worked so hard to renovate. They'd been working on it all summer while they both lived in Grant's loft.

“It's coming,” Grant said with a touch of weariness on his face at the mention of their project. “What's slowing us down is that we're not just rebuilding what burned down, we're having to update the whole place, really. We changed the footprint of the old house and added a new master suite to the back. It's framed and sided, the roof is on, but the inside . . . We're redoing all the plumbing throughout. All the electrical work, too. We're replacing all the windows with the super-insulated kind. New appliances, new fixtures, new insulation. We had a lot of smoke and water damage to deal with on top of everything else, so it's just a slow process.”

“It sounds like you'll have a brand-new house before too long.” Emmett understood the headaches of renovation. When he moved to Rosewood, it had taken him months and a lot of money to get Woody's and the apartment upstairs just the way he wanted it. But in the end, it was worth the hassle.

“It darn near will be. We're close to being finished, though. We're hoping to be in by Halloween. Maybe we'll throw a party at Christmas after we get settled.”

“And maybe I'll be out of jail and can come,” Emmett said, only half joking. Disturbing the peace was hardly a long-term offense, but if going in front of the judge didn't put an end to his battle with Madelyn, they might end up back there again before long.

Blake shook his head. “Don't worry about it, man. That's not going to happen. I know Maddie, and as stubborn as she is, she likes to win more than anything. If she can't find a way to beat you, she'll find a new battle to fight. Eventually, she'll come up with something else to outrage her and she'll leave you and your bar alone.”

Emmett couldn't help the momentary feeling of disappointment at Blake's observation. As much grief as she caused him, he didn't want Maddie to leave him alone. He just wanted to stifle the flow of cutting words from her mouth by kissing her until she forgot why she was mad. He wanted to breathe in the warm scent of the lavender soap on her skin, and not just because they'd been handcuffed together most of the night.

He certainly wasn't going to mention that to her overprotective brothers, though. They might be on his side of the noise battle, but when it came to someone dating their sister, it was a brother's prerogative not to trust the guy in question.

“I'll try to keep that in mind as I'm led off by the bailiff in handcuffs.”

“At the very least,” Grant added, “if you do go to jail and have to close the bar, I promise to come over to Woody's every night and crank up the jukebox while you're locked up.”

Logan Anthony hung up
the phone, sat back in his leather executive chair, and smiled the grin of a very satisfied man. His sister, Pepper, had been right. It'd taken a few months to find his niche, but his newly established law firm in Rosewood was doing excellent business. The best part was that he was stealing those clients away from Norman Chamberlain.

His windfall had come over the summer, when someone tripped and fell inside the local women's clothing boutique, Dressin' Up. The woman who fell threatened to sue the owner, Beverly Perkins, and Beverly came running to Logan for help. He'd gotten the customer to settle for far less than a judge probably would've awarded her. When it was all over, Beverly asked what she could ever possibly do to thank Logan. At first he dismissed it, knowing good service was its own best advertising. Then he realized that Beverly's shop was directly across the street from the Chamberlain Law Firm. She let him put up a huge sign on the side of the store facing Second Avenue, so everyone who walked in or out of the firm would see it. The banner declared that he offered free legal consults and second opinions and he could help them for less than
other
firms charged.

It was absolutely true. He charged a fraction of what the prestigious and stuck-up Chamberlain firm billed their clients. Since he put that sign up, he'd had a steady stream of people in his office. Not all of them opted to go with him, but enough did to make him seem like a credible threat. The Sunday after the sign went up, there was a full-page color ad in the
Rosewood Times
advertising the Chamberlain Law Firm and all the services they offered. They touted their years of experience and dedication to the community. That was nice and all, but every client that ad brought to Norman's front door would see Logan's sign, too.

Logan might not get business from the fanciest of Rosewood families, who dined and golfed with the Chamberlains, but he was getting everyone else. Logan would damn near work for free to underbid the Chamberlains. This wasn't just about business. It was about revenge against the father who refused to acknowledge him.

Glancing down at his phone, Logan noticed he had another text from Pepper. She had been adamant about having him over for dinner one night. That wasn't his idea of a good time, so he'd carefully dodged her requests. He had been busy at work, no doubt, but considering she lived across the street with Norman's legitimate son Grant, he could probably make the time if he wanted to.

Learning the truth about his father was a hard adjustment, especially with his sister and Grant engaged. His mother had raised Logan and Pepper to despise and avoid the Chamberlains. While the whole family wasn't to blame for Norman's actions, Logan wasn't about to give them all a pass. He tolerated his half brother Grant only because he had to. That didn't mean he wanted to have dinner with them and act like everything was hunky-dory.

His office phone rang then, surprising him. It was pretty late—and a Sunday at that—for a client to call, but people got into trouble at all hours, he supposed. “Anthony Law Firm, this is Logan speaking,” he answered.

“Hey, Logan. This is Emmett Sawyer over at Woody's. I was wondering if you had time to come by the bar and talk to me about a legal issue I've run into with Madelyn Chamberlain. I could use some lawyerly advice. Beer's on me.”

Logan perked up in his seat. If this involved his snotty half sister, he had all night. “Sure thing. I'll be right over.”

Logan hung up the phone, a smug smile curling his lips. Stealing his father's clients and battling him in court was just the first step in chipping away at Norman Chamberlain's empire. In time, he hoped to expose the truth to Norman's family and watch his own children, Maddie included, turn on him. And then, when Norman was at his lowest point, Logan would find a way to deliver a fatal blow to the man's reputation and let the whole town realize the truth about the man and the family they'd practically worshipped.

It would take time, but as they say, revenge was a dish best served cold.

Chapter Six

Maddie put on
her most professional outfit—a pale gray pantsuit with a gray-and-pink-striped blouse—and headed to the courthouse early on Monday morning. She walked there in a practical pair of pink ballet flats since it was after Labor Day and her white sandals were packed away for the winter. Her parents and her grandmother were going to meet her out front at eight forty-five, fifteen minutes before her case was scheduled.

As she walked down First Avenue toward the square, past her store, she felt a flare of irritation lick at her cheeks. Madelyn's Bakery was closed today, by necessity. She hated posting the sign in the window telling customers they'd have to come back tomorrow. They shouldn't have to. They should be able to get their tasty treats today just like always. It was lemon tart day.

Perhaps she needed to look into getting an assistant. She was avoiding it, the cost would eat into her ability to pay back her father, but she didn't really have a choice. It wouldn't be that expensive to hire a teenager to work after school. They'd work for minimum wage and she'd get her afternoons back. A small price to pay in the scheme of things. Today, she made zero money because no one was there to run the bakery.

And it was all Emmett's fault.

Maddie could only hope that the judge saw her side in all this. She hadn't had the chance to ask her grandmother if she'd spoken to Judge Griffin after church yesterday. She'd sworn she would, so Maddie just had to hope for the best.

When she arrived, she saw her father's black Mercedes parked out front. Her parents stepped out of the car when they saw her, gathering on the sidewalk to each scoop her into their arms in a supportive hug.

“I'm so sorry you're having to go through all this, baby,” Norman Chamberlain said. “Sheriff Todd is running a mockery of a police station if a sweet, law-abiding girl such as yourself finds herself in handcuffs.”

“Norman,” her mother, Helen, warned, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Please remember to hold your tongue in the courtroom today. You're not at trial and it won't help matters for Madelyn. And remember, your son is an officer. You don't want to put Simon in an awkward position by starting a war with Sheriff Todd.”

“Simon is just as guilty,” Norman snapped bitterly. “I didn't raise my son to do something as callous as arresting his own sister.”

“He had to do his job.” Helen opened her arms wide to usher everyone up the stairs and silence her husband's tirade. “I'm sure this will be just a little thing. If we have to, we'll pay the fine and move on. The bigger the stink we make about this, the more people find out about it.”

That was Helen Chamberlain for you. Maddie's mother was never one to make a fuss about anything. Daddy had a temper, but Mama was the one who could reason with him and cool him down. She was soft-spoken but firm, and always chose whatever path would lead to a peaceful resolution the fastest. She wasn't much for drama, so this situation with Maddie and Simon was probably giving their mother a tension headache.

Maddie let herself be herded into the courthouse, following the long, narrow hallway to the only courtroom in Rosewood. Outside the large double doors was a bench where Emmett sat with Logan Anthony by his side.

She stiffened immediately, reaching out to grasp her father's sleeve and hold him back before he noticed and charged at them. Her daddy was furious with Emmett, but it didn't hold a candle to how he felt about Logan.

“What the hell is
he
doing here?” her father barked, the sound echoing down the hall. Fortunately, her mother had grabbed his other sleeve and, together, they held him in place.

Emmett stood calmly, tugging down his suit jacket and adjusting his green silk tie. If Maddie was correct, and she was certain she was, she'd say that was a designer suit. Armani, maybe. And his watch was, at the very least, a convincing Rolex knockoff.

Not exactly the kind of clothes she'd expected him to own after seeing his usual uniform of jeans and T-shirts. She figured he'd show up today in a pair of poorly ironed khakis and his best polo shirt, maybe combing his unruly blond hair if they were lucky. Instead, she'd been caught off guard by his professional polish. He cleaned up very well.

“He's my attorney,” Emmett said, meeting Norman's cold gaze without flinching.

There was a different aura about him that Maddie immediately noticed. It wasn't just about the clothes or the neatly combed hair. The laid-back surfer dude had stayed at the bar today. The man in front of her looked more like a lawyer than Logan did. He radiated a dangerous feeling of power, like some sort of courtroom barracuda or a corporate hotshot who was cocked and ready to fire.

Something deep inside Maddie was ready to fire, too. There were few things she liked better than a man in a well-tailored suit. To see Emmett's tall, well-built frame clad in designer clothes was more than she could take. She'd been attracted to him when he was the bad boy she shouldn't want. Knowing the bad boy could look like this made her suppressed libido nearly explode.

She sucked in a ragged breath, determined to ignore the feelings churning inside. There wasn't a more inappropriate time for this, except maybe a funeral. Anyway, the attraction would be pointless if her daddy punched Emmett in his handsome, smug face.

Norman didn't seem impressed by any of Emmett's attire, but he probably didn't know how the bartender normally looked. “Good luck with that, Sawyer. With Mr. Anthony by your side, you'll probably end up in the electric chair.”

Logan made a lunging movement, but Emmett's quick reflexes held him back.

“Daddy?” Maddie asked, tugging at her father's coat to distract him and diffuse the situation. The last thing she needed was a brawl outside the courtroom before they went in. “I thought you said I didn't need an attorney for this.”

“You shouldn't,” he said with a brisk shake of his head. “Some people just have guilty consciences. You'll be fine.”

Maddie took a deep breath and hoped he was right.

Either way, time was up. The doors opened and the court reporter stepped out. “Chamberlain and Sawyer,” she announced, turning to go back inside.

They all filed in, taking their seats in the small courtroom. The space was a hundred years old, fashioned of polished wood railings and benches. There were two small tables up front, then the large, raised platform where Judge Griffin sat. The court reporter took her seat to the side and cued up her paperwork to begin the transcript.

The bailiff stepped out from a door behind the bench and asked them to rise. “The honorable Judge Hugo Griffin presiding.”

The door opened again, and the other man stepped out in his robe. He was bald except for the white tufts of hair over his ears that wrapped in a narrow band around the back of his head. He had bushy white eyebrows and a drawn, wrinkly forehead. He was frowning as he climbed the stairs to take his seat, making Maddie more nervous with every step.

She'd never seen Judge Griffin at work before. She'd seen him only at social events. He'd always been pleasant and friendly when they ran into him at church or chatted with her family at the Fourth of July picnic. The man even sang in the choir at church and played Santa a time or two in the Rosewood Christmas parade. He was, by all accounts, a pleasant man.

But that didn't mean anything once he sat down at the bench.

“Please be seated,” Judge Griffin said. As everyone sat down he settled in, opening a file and silently flipping through the pages for a few moments.

“Mr. Sawyer, Miss Chamberlain,” he said at last, pinning both of them in turn with his dark gaze. “You're here today to face charges of disorderly conduct, which is a class C misdemeanor in the state of Alabama, punishable by up to a five-hundred-dollar fine and three months in jail.”

Maddie felt her heart stutter in her chest.
Did he say jail?
Maddie swallowed hard. She wouldn't last a day in jail.

“According to the statement I have here from Sheriff Todd and Officer Chamberlain, the incident in question seems to be the culmination of a long-standing feud between the two of you.”

“Judge Griffin, my client was only responding to the constant harassment started by Miss Chamberlain. The—”

“Stuff it, Mr. Anthony,” Judge Griffin interrupted. “This hearing is not to deal with why you two were fighting or who started it. I don't care about any of that. What I do care about is that two grown adults have allowed this battle to reach a point where you'd scream at each other in the streets in the presence of a police officer and think that was an appropriate way to conduct yourselves. You've obviously got issues and we're going to deal with those today.”

Maddie flinched at the judge's sharp tone. He'd shut Logan Anthony down in an instant. She needed to tread carefully today. Just take her lumps, go home, and hope she never ended up back here ever again.

“First,” he began, “if both the accused would stand, please. Miss Chamberlain, did you or did you not get into a loud public argument with Mr. Sawyer in the early morning hours of this past Saturday?”

Maddie stood. “I did, sir.”

“Thank you. Now, Mr. Sawyer, did you or did you not get into a loud public argument with Miss Chamberlain in the early morning hours of this past Saturday?”

Maddie glanced over for the first time to where Emmett was standing. He was looking just as handsome as he had earlier, but he was paying no attention to her. He looked at the judge. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Judge Griffin said. “Thank you for not wasting the court's time by denying it. Now, what to do with you both? Given that Mr. Sawyer has already amassed several thousand dollars in noise citations over the last few weeks, it seems to me as though a five-hundred-dollar fine will not make an impact on either of you.”

Maddie held her breath.

“But jail time seems hardly suitable for something like this. In the end, no one was injured and no property was damaged.”

She finally exhaled. No jail.

“Neither of those options seem to address the issue at hand, which is that the two of you can't seem to get along. This little war of yours is tying up city resources. Considering that neither the house nor the bar is going to pull up their foundations and move anytime soon, something has to be done. And I think I've got an idea.”

Maddie's sense of relief was short-lived. What could the judge possibly do to force them to get along? Her mind flashed back to her childhood and the oversize T-shirt her mother used as a punishment to force two quarreling siblings to play nicely together. It created a two-armed, two-headed, four-legged monster that would immediately stop fighting so they could get away from each other. That's probably where her brother Simon had gotten the idea about the handcuffs. She worried that something like that would be exactly what the judge would call for.

“You will both serve community service. I think twenty-four hours served over the next month ought to do it. Since you both operate your own businesses, we'll spread it out into smaller chunks. Twice a week for four weeks, you'll spend three hours assisting your community. You'll pick up trash at the park, you'll volunteer at the senior center or the library . . . and, as a matter of fact, we've been having some vandalism trouble around town lately. You'll clean that up, too.”

Maddie had expected as much. While picking up trash was not ideal, it could've been much worse. Just another reason for her to hire someone to help at the shop. It sounded like some of her afternoons and evenings would be taken for the next few weeks. There was just one thing she didn't understand—how would this resolve her feud with Emmett?

The judge looked at both of them and a sadistic smile crossed his face. “And one last thing. You'll be serving every single hour of your community service
together
.”

Hell. He was in
absolute hell.

Emmett slipped out of the courtroom quickly with Logan on his heels. They pushed through the crowd waiting to go in next, and made it out onto the steps before he stopped to finally take his first big breath since the sentence was handed down.

“I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, Emmett. I should've known that Judge Griffin wouldn't be interested in anything we had to say. He's known for that.”

“It's not your fault,” Emmett said with a shake of his head. “I called you twelve hours before I was due in court. Even if the judge had let you speak, I didn't exactly give you time to prepare.”

“At least let me treat you to breakfast,” Logan offered.

“Breakfast sounds good, but I should really treat you. You've already insisted that you won't take any of my money for this. If you buy me breakfast, you're actually in the hole.”

Logan chuckled and slapped Emmett on the shoulder as they started down the sidewalk toward Ellen's Diner. “A small price to pay to watch one of the Chamberlains knocked down a peg, I assure you.”