“In your dreams, Whitehouse.” Faith rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny she enjoyed chatting and joking with Mick almost as much as she enjoyed kissing him.
“But seriously, I’m glad we’re going to go out,” Mick said, the teasing note vanishing from his voice. “Do you think you’ll be up for something Thursday night, or will you need to head home to crash?”
“I should be fine,” Faith said. “Assuming we don’t have any middle-of-the-night calls the night before. But even if we do, I don’t need a lot of sleep to function.”
“Then I’ll pick you up Thursday night at six?” Mick reached up to tug a lock of her hair. “We can get dinner and then go bowling or something.”
“Six is perfect, but I’m terrible at bowling,” Faith said, finding it hard to resist the urge to touch Mick, to let her fingers explore the way his were exploring her hair. “Let’s go to the shooting range instead, and I’ll kick your ass at target practice.”
Mick laughed. “You’re on. But I wouldn’t be so sure about kicking my ass. I know my way around a gun, Miller. I haven’t missed a deer season since I was in diapers.”
Faith grinned. “Well good, that should make beating you more fun.”
“You talk a lot of smack for a girl who couldn’t brush her own teeth last night,” Mick said. “I think you need to be taught some manners.”
A second later he tackled her, making Faith giggle with unusual girlishness as he trapped her body between his powerful legs and gave her a noogie on the top of her head.
“Stop it,” she said, batting at his fist. “You’ll give me split ends.”
“Oh no, not split ends,” Mick said, moving his fingers to her ribs where he proceeded to tickle her until she was dying with laughter, so out of breath that when Melody threw open the door with a spatula in hand and demanded to know—
“What’s going on in here? Do I need to defend this woman’s honor, Mick?”
—Faith couldn’t say a word.
“We’re just goofing off.” Mick grinned as he released Faith from his vice grip. “Sorry, did we wake you?”
“No way.” Melody waved her spatula. “I’ve been up for an hour and almost have hangover breakfast ready. You two hungry?”
“Starving,” Mick said, springing up from the futon.
“Me too,” Faith said, her cheeks heating. “If you’ll trust me to eat in your house. I am so sorry I got sick last night. I am ten different shades of embarrassed.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” Melody said with a smile that looked sincere. “We used the garden hose. Yours was the easiest clean-up of the night.”
“You hear that?” Mick grinned over his shoulder as he shoved his feet in a pair of enormous black shoes. “You won the Best Barfer Award.”
“You did,” Melody said. “We’re so proud.”
Faith laughed, finally trusting that it was okay to put her shame behind her. “Well, thanks. Next time I’ll win the Best Designated Driver Award.”
“Now those are always our favorite people,” Melody said, pointing at Faith approvingly with the spatula. “Breakfast is almost ready. Y’all come get yourselves some coffee.”
Faith slid her sock feet to the floor and stood, brushing her hair from her face as Melody bustled back into the main part of the apartment.
“See?” Mick said softly. “I told you no one would think you were the Mayor of Loserville.”
Faith shrugged, tugging her glittery shirt down around her hips. “Melody’s really nice.”
“You’re really nice,” Mick said.
“I am not,” Faith said, narrowing her eyes in his direction. “I’m mean as spit, and don’t you forget it.”
“Cute as a button is more like it,” he said capturing her hand in his, sending a sizzle of awareness skittering across Faith’s skin as she glanced down, surprised to see that Mick’s hand engulfed hers.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you being so big,” she said, curling her fingers tentatively around his. She hadn’t held hands with Eli until they’d been dating for months and then rarely in public, but she couldn’t deny how good it felt to hold Mick’s hand. Just nice and warm and…good.
“Nostalgic for the days when you could crush me beneath your little pink sneaker?” Mick asked, tugging her closer.
“I never wore pink sneakers, Mick Whitehouse,” she said, her voice breathy as she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “You take that back or I won’t ever kiss you again.”
“Retracted,” Mick said, a rough edge to the word that made Faith think she wasn’t the only one feeling the air thicken between them.
“Good, now let’s go get some grits,” she said, stepping past him.
“Only if they have cheese on them. Grits without cheese are an abomination.” Mick followed her into the kitchen where Melody, her fiancé, Nick, Kitty, and a handful of other people were already gathered around the table.
The others welcomed Mick and Faith with easy smiles and warm Happy New Year wishes, as if it wasn’t strange at all to see the two of them acting like a couple. And maybe it wasn’t, Faith thought as she pulled up a chair next to Mick’s and spent the next hour and a half having the best breakfast she’d had in years. Melody was a professional chef so the food was amazing, but it was more than that.
Faith felt free to be herself in a way she usually didn’t. She was sitting next to a guy who thought she was cute despite the fact that she had vomited in his presence hours before, a guy who laughed at her jokes, passed her the salt and pepper without her having to ask, and really listened when she talked. It was hard not to feel relaxed when in the company of someone who seemed to like her for who she was, no modifications required.
And if she were honest, that was the number one item on her list of things she wanted in a boyfriend. Growing up, she had always sworn she would never be like her mom, that she wouldn’t change to please someone who would take her for granted, or do anything else to risk becoming a serial victim like Pressie Miller.
Her mother had been used up and tossed out so many times her skin had started to look thin, like a dress washed too often until the flesh shows through underneath. But what showed through on Faith’s mom was pain, hopelessness, and the growing certainty that she would always be alone. And alone would never be enough. Pressie Miller had been waiting her whole life for a man to love her enough to make her love herself, but her fiftieth birthday had come and gone and still, not one in her long line of frogs had turned into Prince Charming.
Before Faith was old enough to read fairy tales on her own, she’d known she had no interest in Prince Charming—she didn’t need anyone to save her, and she refused to put the power to decide her happily ever after in anyone else’s hands.
But she could use a new friend, especially a friend who kissed the way Mick did, and whose hand felt so perfectly right in her own.
“I don’t like the idea of not seeing you for three days,” Mick said later, as they wandered through the cool winter air toward the fire station.
“You’ll see me,” she said. “I’ll be right across the street.”
Mick shrugged, a hint of shyness in the gesture that was undeniably cute. “You know what I mean.”
“Well there’s no reason we can’t hang out,” she said after a moment. “I’m allowed to have visitors. A lot of the guys have their families come for dinner when they’re on duty.”
“Are you asking me to come to family dinner?” Mick asked, sending a shiver of anxiety across Faith’s skin.
Family dinner wasn’t just a phrase to her. The guys at the station and their wives and significant others were as good as Faith’s family—better really, because none of them ever made her feel like she was only worth talking to when they needed to be bailed out of a bad situation.
She was open to dating Mick, but she wasn’t ready to introduce him to her family.
“How about we have lunch,” she said, backtracking. “Or you could come work out
with me. I usually start around two if we don’t have training or maintenance that needs to be done.”
Mick nodded. “Sounds like fun. I’ve been lifting in the garage at my parents’ house, but it’s freezing in there.”
Faith stopped next to him on the sidewalk, across the street from where her truck was parked. “Cool. I’ll text you tomorrow when it’s safe. I have to make sure Jamison isn’t around, or he’ll tease the shit out of me for having a boy over.”
Mick smiled down at her. “Am I the first boy you’ve had over?”
“Don’t make too much out of it,” Faith said, as she backed away. “I don’t date, remember?”
“You do now,” Mick said with a wink so disarming she couldn’t think of a snappy comeback, so she simply rolled her eyes and said—
“Whatever, Whitehouse. Smell you later.”
“Not if I smell you first,” he called after her, making her mouth quirk up into a goofy grin that felt strange on her face.
Strange, but…good. So far the New Year wasn’t going the way she had expected, but she couldn’t deny she’d had more fun this morning than in the last month of mornings combined.
And the reason for that was watching her unlock her truck and swing up into the driver’s seat, a smile on his handsome face.
Chapter Four
Mick hadn’t been this excited for a work out in weeks. He jogged down the stairs leading from his apartment the next afternoon with a spring in his step and a smile on his face.
A smile that vanished as his eldest sister, Naomi, dashed across the bakery to block his way out the front door.
“You’re not going anywhere!” She threw out her arms in a dramatic “none shall pass” gesture. With her honey-streaked brown curls pulled into a ponytail and a bright pink “Show Me Some Sugar” apron on over her clothes, Naomi looked sweet enough to be hosting a children’s baking show, but the expression on her face was all business.
“What? Why?” Mick asked, wondering what he’d done this time.
He was glad Naomi and Maddie were coming out of their respective funks, but since their spirits had improved, his sisters had reverted to picking on him like they had when he was a kid. Mick was trying to be a good sport about it, but he was nearly twenty-four years old. He wasn’t a little boy, and he could be trusted to live by himself and cook his own meals without setting his apartment on fire.
“You’re staying right here,” Naomi said, pointing a threatening finger in his direction. “And that’s final.”
Mick backed away, holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, the workout towel in his hand hanging from his fist like a white flag. Apparently it was going to take him longer to get across the street to the fire station than the five minutes he’d texted Faith.
“What?” Mick asked again. “I swear I didn’t touch anything in the bakery kitchen, not even when I really needed milk for my cereal.”
“Liar!” Maddie, Mick’s middle sister, popped up from behind the glass display case, her cheeks flushed and her brown ponytail frizzy from spending the morning in the kitchen. “I caught you on the Nanny cam I hid in between the flour sacks. You are a milk thief, Mick Whitehouse.”
Mick shot Maddie an incredulous look. “You were spying on me?”
“I was checking up on you,” she said, with a grin that made it clear she felt no remorse for setting up video surveillance on a family member. “And my checking reveals that you are a big, hairy liar.”
“It was three tablespoons,” Mick mumbled, rolling his eyes. “Seriously. I don’t know why you two are so stingy with the milk. You have eight gallons in there.”
“We have health codes to think about,” Naomi said with a judgmental sniff.
“Well, I didn’t rub my hands in feces first,” Mick said in an exaggeratedly patient tone. “I just went in with my clean hands, poured some milk into my clean cereal bowl, and walked back out, keeping all my nasty man germs to myself.”
“Speaking of nasty man germs…” Naomi said, crossing her arms at her chest, “This is about more than milk, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t! I have no idea what’s going on.” Mick linked his hands behind his neck and lifted a tortured gaze to the ceiling.
Figuring out what made women tick was hard; figuring out what made sisters tick was damned near impossible.
“Maddie told me all about your plans.” Naomi crossed to him, poking him in the stomach with her finger hard enough to make him grunt. “And it’s not happening. You are not going to make Faith another name on your hit list.”
“I don’t have a hit list,” Mick said, jumping back when Naomi went for him with her finger again.
“Yes, you do,” Naomi said, lunging forward to jab Mick below the ribs before he could escape.
“Ow!” He crossed his hands over his stomach, doing his best to look pitiful, the way he would when Naomi was seventeen and he was seven and getting in trouble for sneaking into her room to play hobbits-trapped-in-the-dragon’s-cave under her bed.
Unfortunately, his pitiful face didn’t work nearly as well now that he was a good six inches taller than his sister.
“Since you moved back home, you’ve dated half the single women in Summerville.” Naomi stalked him across the tile as he backed away. “You’re making a name for yourself as a man-whore, Mick, which is fine if that’s what you want to do. Lord knows, I’m not here to judge anyone. I’m just here to make sure you stay away from Faith.”
“Yeah! I really like Faith.” Maddie popped up from behind the display case again, like a meddling whack-a-mole determined to ruin Mick’s chance at the one girl who had captured his attention in what felt like forever.
“I like Faith too,” Mick said, glancing over Naomi’s head at the front door to the shop, willing someone to walk into the bakery and save him from the third degree.
“Liking someone and wanting to get into their pants isn’t the same thing,” Naomi said in a condescending voice. “And I won’t allow you to—”
“Now hold on,” Mick said, a wave of real anger filling his chest. “I love y’all, and I respect your opinions, but you are not my keepers. You don’t decide what I do, or who I date. And you don’t get to comment on my sex life. Ever.”
“Oh, come on,” Maddie said, her tone softening. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled, baby brother, we’re only—”
“You’re only sticking your noses where they don’t belong,” Mick said, letting his hard gaze shift from Naomi, to Maddie, and back again, hoping they got the message that this wasn’t a situation where he’d be rolling over and letting his bossy older sisters tell him what to do. “I really like Faith. I’m going to go work out with her today, and on Thursday night we’re going out.”
Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but Mick cut her off before she could say a word.
“This isn’t up for debate,” Mick said. “I have nothing but honest intentions, but even if I didn’t, this intervention would be insulting. To me and to Faith, who would be royally pissed if she knew you two were talking about her like she was some helpless idiot.”
Naomi and Maddie exchanged a look that made it clear they knew he was right.
“There now, aren’t you sorry?” Mick asked after a long, quiet moment. “Don’t you feel shame?”
Maddie nodded, and after a moment, so did Naomi.
“You’re right…sorry,” Naomi mumbled. “Have fun. Say hi to Jake for me.”
“I will.” Mick moved toward the door. “You two be good while I’m gone. And in the future, try to remember that not only am I a grown man and a nice person, I’m also your tenant, and probably the only person in town who will pay rent to live above a place where people start banging pans at four a.m.”
“All right, we get it,” Maddie said. “I’ll take the nanny cam home today.”
“Good.” Mick grinned as he backed out the door, but his victory was a hollow one. He’d talked a good game, but deep down he wondered if Naomi and Maddi
e might have a point.
He wasn’t up for a serious relationship, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he’d acted on New Year’s. He’d thrown himself into looking after Faith, kissing Faith, teasing Faith, holding Faith’s hand as they walked down the street with the enthusiasm of a guy who’d been trolling Cobb County Cupid looking for a girlfriend. And not the casual kind, the kind of girlfriend you took care of when she was sick, visited at work, texted multiple times a day, and made plans with a week in advance because you were so eager to be with her.
It would be easy for Faith to get the wrong idea, but it didn’t feel right to hold her at a distance. He felt relaxed around her, free to be himself in a way he hadn’t been in…
In a way he might have never been, he realized with a start, the thought stopping him dead on the sidewalk outside the fire station.
Until Bridget, he’d been too nervous around girls to be himself. He’d gotten a late start at the dating game and been busy playing catch-up the first year of college, struggling to learn rules everyone else seemed to have down pat. And even in the beginning with Bridget, when things were good and Mick had been happy and comfortable, he’d still never been able to completely let down his guard. Bridget was always in the midst of some crisis—big or small—and needed Mick to be the strongest, most serious, most responsible version of himself.
Even before she became dangerously fragile, Mick’s ex had been the kind who was in perpetual need of saving. Whether it was needing strong arms to carry her groceries up to her apartment, or a last-minute study partner to finish the homework she’d neglected all semester, Bridget didn’t hold up her end of anything. Not even a serious conversation. Every time Mick had tried to talk to her about something he would like to see change in their relationship, Bridget had fallen to pieces.
At first, being her hero had made him feel important. Special. Mick knew he had a touch of knight-in-shining-armor syndrome. He liked to help people; he liked being needed. But in the end, he’d only wished Bridget was strong enough to survive without him. By then he’d learned it was impossible to rescue someone who had no interest in saving themselves, and Bridget had made it clear she didn’t even want to try.
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