Mick didn’t want to be a hero anymore; he’d had enough rescuing damsels in distress to last a lifetime. And he wasn’t ready to fall in love again, either, not by a long shot.
He let out a ragged sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stand here on the sidewalk like a freak, torn between heading into the fire station, and making a run for it. He had to make a call and get moving.
But before he could make the decision between fight or flight, Faith flung open the fire station’s creaky front door and waved an urgent arm his way.
“Come on!” she whisper-shouted. “The coast is clear. The rest of them just hit the showers.”
As soon as Mick’s eyes landed on her, taking in her black spandex pants, red, short-sleeved shirt, and swishy blond ponytail, his angst faded away. When in Faith’s presence, it was impossible to feel anything but drawn to her.
He was a fighter ship, and she was the Death Star…the cutest Death Star ever.
She grinned as she watched him move up the paving stones toward her, setting Mick’s heart to beating faster even before she took his hand and pulled him into the station. They jogged down the long hallway, footsteps squeaking lightly on the tile as they passed the men’s locker room and slipped into the firehouse’s weight room.
Inside the gym, the space smelled of feet, decades of dried sweat, and the metallic scent of weights starting to rust, but Mick was so happy to be spending the hour with Faith he hardly noticed.
“Okay, what do you want to do first?” she asked, turning back to him with her hands on her hips. “I usually start with jumping jacks and a few stretches, then do legs, then arms, and finish up with a run. We can run outside as long as we stay close enough to the station for me to be back in thirty seconds if my pager goes off. I usually circle the impound lot behind the station a few dozen times.”
“Sounds good,” Mick said. “You lead. I’ll follow and work in.”
Faith crossed to an open space on the carpet and started her warm-up. Mick fell in beside her, silently approving of the pace she set with the jumping jacks. From the first minutes of the workout, it was obvious that Faith wasn’t here to play—a fact that become even clearer as they moved into a grueling circuit targeting calves, inner and outer thighs, and quadriceps. They moved between the machines crowded into the small space with companionable ease, their conversation limited to discussion of reps and the occasional words of encouragement.
But when silence fell between them, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, Mick found working out with Faith relaxing…except for those moments when he couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering, or his blood pressure from spiking. Faith’s body was a thing of beauty under any circumstance, but Faith in action, with her strength and flexibility and raw determination on display was so damned sexy Mick considered it a miracle he was able to keep his own body under control.
“Okay, what do you think?” Faith asked, breath coming faster as they finished their last set of bicep curls and set their dumbbells back on the stand. “Want to do triceps and then head out?”
“Yeah.” Mick dried his sweat-slicked hands on his towel. “I think another ten minutes in here will be all I can take before my nose falls off.”
Faith laughed as she swiped an arm across her forehead. “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? It’s the carpet. Too many years of sweat soaked into it. Even cleaning it doesn’t help.”
“I’ve smelled better things,” Mick agreed.
“But a part of me kind of likes it. Is that wrong?” Faith’s nose wrinkled as she grabbed a pair of eight-pound weights and started a set of tricep kick-backs, bending deep into a squat that made it extremely difficult for Mick to keep his eyes off her back side.
“No, I don’t think that’s wrong.” Mick claimed a set of fifteen-pound dumbbells and joined her. “There’s something primal about a good sweat stink.”
“And it reminds me of good times growing up,” Faith said. “My cousins and I used to come here and work out with Uncle Tip after school. It was a family thing.”
“That’s cool,” Mick said. “My family was never into exercise. They’re more into cooking and eating and talking about cooking and eating and…” Mick trailed off as he glanced into the mirror in time to catch Faith’s eyes roaming. “Are you checking out my ass?” he asked with a laugh.
“No!” She blushed as her eyes flew back to the mirror.
As their gazes connected, the blush became an eye roll.
“Okay, maybe I was.” She straightened up, setting her weights back on the rack. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Can I let it go to my ass?” Mick set his weights down and looped an arm around her waist, unable to believe he’d resisted the urge to touch her until now.
Even with sweat seeping through her clothes, she felt amazing—strong, but soft in all the right places, places that made Mick’s already pounding heart beat faster as they pressed up against him.
“You’re a mess, you know that?” Faith said.
“Takes one to know one.” Mick pulled her closer.
“I’m not a mess.” She tipped her head back, bringing her lips within inches of his own. “And I don’t kiss while I’m on duty, so don’t even think about it.”
“Too late,” Mick said, fingers digging into the gentle curve of her hip.
“Well stop thinking about it, and let’s get going,” Faith said, spinning out of his arms and jogging toward the door at the back of the room. “This workout isn’t over. Only slackers skip the run, Whitehouse.”
“There are other ways to get your heart rate up, Miller,” Mick said, following her out into the sunny winter afternoon. “Things a lot more fun than running.”
It was cool outside—probably no more than fifty degrees—but after their time in the weight room the air felt good against his skin. Mick was grinning, already looking forward to the run when Faith turned to him, an unamused expression on her face.
“Yeah, well, I don’t do those sorts of things casually,” she said, a brittle note entering her voice. “I’m not that kind of girl, so if that’s what you’re looking for, we can end this right now.”
Mick blinked, but didn’t grant himself the luxury of a hasty apology. He didn’t like having Faith annoyed with him, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for and now was as good a time as any to let her know that. He had promised her he would be honest, and he wasn’t the sort to go back on his word.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” Mick said, holding her gaze. “At first I just wanted to date you long enough to get you out of my system, but—”
“Well that’s great,” Faith said, rolling her eyes.
She started to back away, but Mick reached out and caught her hand, stopping her. “But it’s not like that now,” he said, knowing it was the truth. “I really like you, but I spent my last year of college in a really difficult relationship, and I’m not ready for something serious. Not even with someone I like as much as you.”
Faith cocked her head, studying him for a moment before she said. “So…you just want to be friends with benefits, or something like that?”
Mick shook his head. “No, it’s not like that… I…I don’t know.” He shrugged, feeling like a fool for starting this conversation. He ought to know better than to jump into the “defining the relationship” talk without advance preparation. “I haven’t really thought about it. I just like spending time with you. You’re interesting and funny, and I feel like I can be myself when we’re together, and I… I kind of want to relax and see where that goes.”
Faith frowned. “As long as it doesn’t go to a serious place.”
“Yeah? Sort of?” Mick braced himself for her to tell him to hit the road, but she surprised him by saying—
“All right.” She crossed her arms at her chest, nodding seriously. “This was moving too fast for me, anyway. I like the idea of taking a step back.”
“Oh. Well…good,” Mick said, wondering why her words st
ung. This was exactly what he wanted. Wasn’t it?
“As long as we lay down some ground rules,” Faith continued. “First, no hand holding in public. That gives everyone the wrong idea. Second, no sleeping together.” Her cheeks flushed as she glanced up at the building behind Mick. “Because like I said, I don’t do that casually.”
“I respect that,” Mick said. And he did, though he couldn’t honestly say he was thrilled about eliminating the possibility of having sex with Faith.
“And third, no hard feelings when it ends.” She met his gaze again, a hard look in her brown eyes that made him wish he’d never started this conversation. “I’m all for having fun together, but when it’s over—for whatever reason—there’s no drama.”
Mick nodded. “All right.”
“Good, then let’s stop talking and start running,” Faith said, starting toward the impound lot. “I’ve only got thirty minutes before I have to be back upstairs, and I still need to shower. Want to do four warm up laps, four sprints, and then four somewhere in the middle?”
“Sounds perfect,” Mick said, falling in beside her.
It did sound perfect, both the course for the run, and the course she’d set for their future. It was exactly what he wanted—a fun, no-strings-attached relationship custom designed to make sure no one got in too deep, and no one got hurt.
So why did he feel like he’d lost out on something special, something he hadn’t even realized he wanted until Faith’s soft brown eyes hardened around the edges?
Chapter Five
By Thursday afternoon, Faith had almost cancelled her date with Mick ten times.
But every time she started to text him, she hesitated. And then hesitation turned to indecision and sooner or later she ended up calling herself a wimp for even thinking about chickening out and shoved the entire Mick situation from her mind.
He was just a guy, and Faith didn’t get stressed out about guys, especially guys who weren’t boyfriend material. It didn’t matter that Mick’s touch made her insides melt; she’d laid down ground rules and she and Mick were both going to abide by them. They would hang out, have fun until something or someone better came along, and part ways without either of them having to step foot out of their comfort zone.
It was going to be fine. Just fine.
Still, by the time six o’clock Thursday night rolled around, Faith was pacing the floor in front of her apartment door, wondering what the hell she was getting herself into.
“It’s not a big deal,” she muttered to her cat, Captain Snugglepants. “I mean, I’m all about self control. Just because a guy gets under my skin doesn’t mean I’m turning into Mom. And even if I were, I would check myself into rehab before I’d hand my life over to some loser. I have nothing to worry about. At all.”
Captain Snugglepants watched her pace from his perch atop the couch, a judgmental look in his green eyes that seemed to accuse her of protesting too much.
“Whatever.” Faith wrinkled her nose in the cat’s direction. It wasn’t a big deal. She would go out with Mick, enjoy herself, and then head for home. Alone. The way she liked it.
She wasn’t lying when she’d told Mick things were moving too fast. She should be grateful he wanted a casual relationship and was willing to be honest with her about it. Most guys would have tried to get in her pants first and let her know they didn’t want to get emotionally involved after they’d rounded as many bases as she was willing to allow.
With most of the guys she’d dated, that wouldn’t have been many. Faith had never had any trouble calling a stop to things in the bedroom. She’d assumed she simply had more self-control than most women, but ever since Mick’s lips had touched hers in the gazebo at the Fireman’s Ball, she had begun to suspect she simply hadn’t met the right guy.
The kind of guy who made her body hunger for his touch, who made her dream of his hands sliding over her skin and his mouth trailing hot kisses down her neck while his—
The dong of the doorbell made Faith jump, jarring her from her heated thoughts and sending Captain Snugglepants leaping from the back of the couch in a flurry of white fur.
“It’s going to be fine, fine, fine,” Faith chanted softly.
She took a deep breath, blew it out, and reached for the doorknob, determined not to let Mick see how off-kilter she felt.
“Hey.” He grinned as she opened the door.
“Hey,” she said, taking in his black jeans and blue sweater with what she hoped was a neutral expression.
He looked amazing—good enough to go back for seconds and dip the crust in gravy—but he probably already knew that. Knew that sweater made his blue eyes pop like the first stars sparkling in the night sky, and that the black curls falling messily over his forehead only made him more impossibly handsome.
“Wow.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You look…”
“Ready for target practice?” Faith propped a hand on her hip, glad she’d decided not to get dressed up. Jeans, her black shit-kicker boots, and a long-sleeved black thermal were plenty fancy for a low-key dinner and some quality time with a gun. And her outfit would make it clear she intended to keep things casual.
“I was going to say sexy as hell,” Mick said with a nervous-sounding laugh. “But then I thought that might be off-limits.”
Faith shrugged, playing it cooler than she felt. “No need to stress about words. It’s actions that matter.”
Mick nodded. “So…you ready to go?”
“Just let me put out some food and fresh water for the cat.” Faith motioned him inside. “I’ll only be a second.”
Mick stepped inside and closed the door behind him, casting a glance around her place, a smile spreading across his lips—those tempting lips that a part of Faith would love to kiss until neither she, nor Mick could remember the dumb bargains they’d made.
“What’s the smile for?” Faith asked with more heat than she intended, her frustration with her wayward thoughts finding its way into her voice.
“Nothing,” Mick said. “I just didn’t think you’d have so much white fluffy stuff in your apartment.”
“What’s wrong with white fluffy stuff?” Faith propped her hands on her hips, ignoring Captain Snugglepants, who had started to twine in and out between her legs, meowing for his supper. She always fed him before she went out, and he knew to expect his food dish to be filled before she headed for the door.
Mick laughed. “Nothing. I like it. It’s cute.”
“I’ve told you several times, Whitehouse, I am not cute. In any way.”
“I know, I know.” Mick crouched down to hold a hand out to Captain Snugglepants. “So what’s your cat’s name?”
“Captain Snufflmpth,” Faith mumbled, spinning on her heel to stomp through the dining area and into the kitchen.
“What?” Mick called after her.
“Captain Snugglepants,” she shouted over her shoulder as she filled the cat’s bowl, not surprised to hear Mick start laughing again. She braced herself for more cute accusations, but when she returned to the door his shoulders were still shaking.
“What?” She crossed her arms. “He likes to snuggle, okay? He’s the captain of snuggling. It’s a perfectly reasonable name.”
Mick continued to laugh, until Faith was torn between the urge to punch him in the gut and start laughing with him. She went for the punch—deciding it was the more pride-protecting option—but Mick caught her wrist and spun her into him, locking his arms around her chest.
“What’s with women wanting to abuse me lately?” Mick asked, his breath warm on her neck, his strong front glued to her back in a way that made Faith’s cheeks hotter. “First Naomi, and now you.”
“Must be your natural charm and charisma,” Faith said, not caring for the quiver in her voice or the tingles skittering across her skin.
“Must be.” Mick’s arms tightened around her for a moment, before he released her with a suddenness that made her dizzy.
“So are we g
ood to go?” he asked, clearing his throat. “We have reservations at David’s for six-thirty. I figured we could walk there and then come back to pick up my truck before we head out to the firing range.”
Faith frowned. “David’s? That’s awfully fancy.”
“I finished a big remodel job yesterday,” Mick said with a shrug. “I’m feeling flush, and I wanted to take you somewhere nice. You can’t deny they have the best steaks in town.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Faith said. “I’ve never been.”
“Well, then we have to go,” Mick said with an intensity that left no doubt how seriously the man took his steak. “I need to see the look on your face when you have your first bite of the rib eye. It’s going to blow your mind.”
“Should I change?” Faith motioned to her decidedly casual outfit, still uncomfortable with the idea of Mick spending so much money on her.
That didn’t seem low-key, but maybe she was reading something into it she shouldn’t. She knew Mick wasn’t wealthy, but his parents were well-off and his older sister, Naomi, was a gajillionaire. He probably ate out at fancy restaurants all the time and didn’t think a thing of it, unlike Faith, who hadn’t eaten anywhere without a ninety-nine cent menu until her first fire station holiday party.
Mick shook his head. “Some people dress up, but you don’t have to. I’ve seen families there in t-shirts and jeans.”
“Okay.” Faith forced a smile, determined to stop reading too much into things. The whole point of a casual relationship, after all, was to enjoy herself without having to stress and she was going to have a good time, by God, or die trying.
“Then let’s hit it,” she said. “I’m starving. I ran nine miles today, and I think my stomach is about to start digesting my pancreas.”
Mick laughed, holding the door open for her as they passed out into the cool night and headed down the stairs to the street.
“We wouldn’t want that,” Mick said as they turned onto the sidewalk and headed toward Main. “I hear you need your pancreas for…reasons I can’t remember.”
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