“For digestion.” Faith nudged him in the side with her elbow. “I thought you said you had a college degree.”
“I do,” he said. “But it’s in computer programming. I could hack into your medical records, but my understanding of human anatomy is pretty remedial.”
Faith glanced up at him, brows furrowing. “So how do you go from getting a degree in computer programming to working as a carpenter and handy man?”
He shrugged, his gaze falling to the cracked sidewalk beneath their feet. “I don’t know. By the time I finished school, I was feeling pretty burned out. I needed some time to relax, work with my hands—get back to basics, you know?”
Faith nodded. “Yeah. I get it. I think I’d stab myself in the eye if I had to sit in front of a computer all day.”
Mick laughed. “Exactly. Wish I’d figured that out in time to change my major, but… Whatever. A degree is a degree, and something to fall back on if I need to down the road.”
“So, do you think you’re going to stay in Summerville long-term?” she asked, telling herself she didn’t care one way or the other.
“I think so,” Mick said. “It’s home, and my family is here. That’s started to seem more important. When Maddie and Naomi were going through their hard times this year, I was glad I could be there for them.”
“It’s good to be there when people need you,” Faith agreed. “Though sometimes I wish my family was a little less needy, but it could be worse, I could still have to live under the same roof with them.”
Mick nodded. “Relatives—a blessing and a curse.”
“It’s mostly my mom,” Faith said, slowing as they reached the restaurant. “She’s always mid-crisis. But she’s been in New Orleans with her latest loser since the week before Christmas so… I don’t know. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually starting to miss her.”
“Nothing wrong with missing your mama.” Mick opened the door for her, letting his arm slip around her waist as they moved toward the hostess station. “I’m missing mine too. She and Dad have been in Florida since November.”
Mick turned to give his name to the hostess, and Faith allowed herself a brief moment to relish how nice it felt to have his arm around her. They’d said no holding hands in public, but they hadn’t said anything about arms around waists. This was probably acceptable, and at the very least, not a violation of their agreement.
Even if it were, you wouldn’t say a word. You’re weak, Miller. At this rate you’ll be stripping that sweater off of him with your teeth by ten o’clock tonight.
Faith bit her lip and willed herself to put some distance between her and Mick, but then the hostess motioned for them to follow her through the restaurant and it seemed easier to let Mick’s arm stay where it was until they sat down.
Once they were seated—at a candlelit table in a cozy corner of the darkened restaurant that Faith refused to acknowledge was incredibly romantic—their easy conversation resumed without a hitch. They talked about his parents, her mom, his latest remodel job, and Faith’s rather odd work schedule.
“So you don’t go back to work until…Monday?” Mick asked.
“Monday at noon,” Faith said, moaning with appreciation as she set her fork down and gazed sadly at her empty plate. “Oh my god, that really was the best rib-eye I’ve ever had. I hate to see it end. I think I’m going to tear up a little.”
Mick laughed. “Don’t tear up. We’ll come back again before too long.”
Faith looked up, meeting his gaze across the table, confusion and contentment warring within her. On one hand, she was so pleasantly full and enjoying herself so much it seemed a shame to go poking at things, but on the other hand, it wasn’t low-key to hint that they’d be dining out at fancy restaurants together for the foreseeable future.
In the end, confusion won out. She was about to ask Mick what was going on, and if this was really what he considered a casual date, when her phone blared like a fog horn inside her wallet.
“Sorry, let me check who it is.” She fumbled to grab the phone before the other diners banded together and threw her out for destroying the mood.
It was an unfamiliar number, but she answered the call anyway, thinking it might be one of her cousins. They were always getting a hair up their butt to take a trip and calling her in the middle of the night from Memphis, Biloxi, or some bar down in Panama City to make sure she knew all the fun she was missing.
“Hello?” Faith moved her napkin from her lap to the table, in case she needed to step outside.
“Faith?” The second the voice on the other end of the line sobbed her name, Faith knew her night was ruined.
“Hold on, Mama. I’m somewhere I can’t talk, give me a second,” Faith said softly, before covering the bottom of her phone with her hands. “I have to take this,” she said to Mick, rising from her chair. “And I’ll probably have to leave when I’m done. It’s my mom, and from the sound of it she’s in trouble again.”
“I’ll pay the check and meet you outside,” Mick said, not missing a beat. “No worries. Go take your call.”
Faith nodded, relieved that he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of her needing to bail. Her first, and only, long-term boyfriend, Eli, had been laid back most of the time—which Faith had appreciated after her drama-filled childhood—but he had hated sudden changes in plans. Every time Faith had backed out of something last minute, whether it was because of her mom, or because somebody at the firehouse needed help, or simply because she didn’t feel well, Eli had gone into a sulk that would last for days.
His final sulk, which started at a Halloween party when Faith asked to go home early because she’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours and was afraid she was going to fall asleep in the punch bowl, had been the last straw. She’d dumped him that night and only occasionally thought of him since.
Sure, there were nights when she was so lonely she would curl up in a ball on the couch and cuddle Mr. Snugglepants like a pathetic old cat lady, but most of the time she was fine. In her mind, it was better to be alone than weighed down by a man who brought more misery to her life than joy.
Her mama, of course, was of a different opinion…
“What’s up, Mama?” Faith stepped out onto the darkened street, wandering away from David’s front door to stand in the warm glow of the streetlight.
“Oh, honey,” her mama said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Faith said, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Mama always started off with a good five minutes of apologies, but as far as Faith was concerned they were a waste of time and breath. If her mama was really sorry for inconveniencing her and, occasionally, when it came to helping kick men twice Faith’s size out of Pressie’s house, putting her in danger, then Pressie would have changed her behavior.
But she hadn’t changed, not one damned bit since Faith was a little girl. The only difference now was that Faith was old enough to help bail her mother out of trouble instead of clinging to Pressie’s skirts, feeling powerless to make her mama stop crying.
“It’s bad this time, baby,” Pressie said with a sniff. “So bad. Gary left me.”
“I’m sorry.” Faith stopped fighting the eye roll.
Gary, her mom’s latest, was a creep who worked on an oil rig six months out of the year and had rolled into Summerville looking like a mountain man with six types of critters living in his beard. He was gross, and not even that fat wallet full of oil money her mama was so excited about would have made Faith touch him with a ten-foot pole.
“He took my money and he left me.” Pressie sobbed, her voice going high and thin. “And I’ve only got one more night paid up at the hotel. Come tomorrow morning, I’m going to be kicked out on the street. I’m going to be homeless in New Orleans.”
“You’re not going to be homeless in New Orleans, Mama,” Faith said with a sigh. “I’ll wire you some money, and you can—”
&
nbsp; “But there’s nothing close to the hotel, and I don’t have my car. It’s still in my garage at home,” Pressie cut in, sounding increasingly hysterical. “And it’s already dark out and this isn’t a good part of town, Faith. There are drug dealers out there, and all these sad little girls selling themselves on the street. Gary said we should stay here because we’d get more vacation for our money, but I was scared, even with him here. Now I’m all alone and I don’t have a dime for a cab or even any supper, and I don’t know how I’m going to—”
“All right, Mama.” Faith cursed beneath her breath, lowering her voice as Mick emerged from the restaurant. “Text me the address of the hotel and your room number. I’ll call you in a pizza delivery and be there to pick you up by tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, thank you, baby,” Pressie said, sounding significantly more relaxed now that she’d gotten the answer she obviously wanted. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Faith said. “See you soon.”
She hung up with a weary sigh. It looked like she was going to be making an all night drive to New Orleans—just what she needed after working seventy-two hours straight with only a few five hour naps throw in.
“What’s up?” Mick asked, holding out her wallet, which she’d abandoned on the table in her haste to get some privacy for her call.
“It’s my mom.” Faith took the wallet, shoving her phone back inside as the text with the address to the hotel came through. “I’ve got to go pick her up in New Orleans by tomorrow morning.”
Mick’s eyebrows lifted. “Faith, that’s like a nine hour drive.”
“I know, but she’s afraid to leave the hotel so I can’t wire her money for the bus, so…” She shrugged, trying not to let her embarrassment show. “Sorry I ruined the night.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Mick put a hand on her back, rubbing the spot in between her shoulders in a way that was unexpectedly soothing. “But I don’t think you should drive all that way by yourself, especially after working three days straight. Why don’t I come with you? Help you drive?”
Faith glanced up at him in surprise. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “But I don’t have work until Monday, either, and I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in the dark.”
“Really, I’m fine, Mick,” Faith said as she started down the sidewalk. “I’m used to driving alone.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, falling in beside her. “It’ll be fun. We’ll stop at the Quikstop on the way out of town, stock up on candy, and ride the sugar high south.”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, torn. She wasn’t sure leaning on Mick was a good idea, but she was a little worn down, and Jamison and Jake would probably appreciate a break from being her go-to-guys for Mama-related problems. On occasions when she felt compelled to call in reinforcements to bail her mama out, the Hansen brothers never made her feel guilty, but Jake was probably enjoying a night off with Naomi, and Jamison was at work so…
“All right,” she said, feeling lighter as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
“Good.” Mick put an arm around her shoulders as they crossed the street. “I’m glad. I’m not ready to say good-bye yet.”
“Me either,” Faith said, the words out of her mouth before she could think better of them. But Mick didn’t seem troubled by what she’d said; he only smiled down at her and hugged her closer to his side.
So far they were both doing a crappy job of keeping things casual, but who cared when his arm felt so good around her shoulders.
Chapter Six
Mick couldn’t decide if he was having the best—or simply the craziest—date of his life, but he knew this was a night he’d never forget.
By the time he and Faith reached the Alabama state line, they’d eaten all of their candy stash and moved on to nursing extra-large coffees to stay awake. By the time they saw the sign announcing they were fifty miles from Mobile, they were so exhausted they had to pull over and chase each other around the truck in the cold night air to catch their second wind. And by the time they crossed into Mississippi, they had resorted to blasting nineteen eighties power ballads and singing along at the top of their lungs, having decided the only way not to fall asleep at the wheel was to make sure silence never fell in the truck cab.
“Wow, Miller,” Mick said, reaching over to turn down the radio after a rousing rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’. “You couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket with two hands.”
“What a jerk you are,” Faith said, with an outraged laugh. “And I was just going to tell you what a nice voice you had.”
“I do have a nice voice.” Mick chuckled when Faith’s arm shot across the bench seat to punch his shoulder. “What can I say, I’m a classic Irish tenor.”
“You’re an arrogant son of a gun is what you are.” Faith shook her head in mock disgust. “Is there anything you aren’t good at, Mr. Fabulous?”
Mick took a moment, humming under his breath as he thought. “I can’t cook to save my life, sometimes I steal milk from my sisters’ fridge and lie about it, and I’m not great at tennis.”
“I’ve never played,” Faith said. “I’m not into sports where girls are supposed to wear short skirts.”
“That’s a shame,” Mick said, meeting Faith’s glare with a grin. “What? I can’t help it. I think you’d look great in a tennis skirt.”
“And you’d look great in a kilt, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to wear one.”
Mick shrugged. “Why not?”
“Seriously?” Faith asked with a snort. “You’d really put on a kilt?”
“If you had a thing for guys in skirts…” Mick’s grin stretched wider as Faith laughed. He loved her laugh. It made his chest feel as warm as the first sip of Maddie’s salted-caramel hot chocolate.
“So, yeah,” he continued. “I’d wear a kilt, as long as you didn’t want me to shave my legs, too. I’d probably hack myself to pieces.”
Faith shook her head. “You’re a strange one, Whitehouse.”
“I am, I guess.”
“Good thing I like strange.”
“I like you, too,” he said, reaching out to give her thigh a light squeeze.
At first, Faith stiffened in response, but then her muscles relaxed and her thighs parted the slightest bit, enough to make Mick’s heart skip a beat and things low in his body begin to ache.
God, he wanted to touch her, to touch her everywhere, to pull over to the side of the abandoned highway and let his hand slide down the front of her jeans and wake them both up with something a whole lot more fun than singing along with the radio.
“Mick?” Faith asked after a moment, a hitch in her voice that made him think she felt it too, the energy pulsing between them, filling the truck cab with enough electricity to set off sparks.
“Yeah?” His fingers curled, pressing into her skin as thoughts of Faith’s legs wrapped around his waist danced through his mind, and his jeans began to get decidedly uncomfortable.
“I’m—”
Before she could finish, Mick’s phone honked and his butt began to vibrate.
“Is that your ring tone?” Faith laughed as Mick dug into his back pocket. “What is that? A goose?”
“Yeah, it’s Maddie’s ring tone,” Mick said, pulling out the phone. “It’s an old family joke, tell you in a sec.” He answered the call. “Hey, Maddie, what’s—”
“Where are you?” Maddie asked, her anxiety clear in her pinched tone. “I got to the bakery five minutes ago and the door to your apartment was wide open, and your truck was out front, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I thought you’d been kidnapped!”
“I haven’t been kidnapped,” Mick said, rolling his eyes. “I probably forgot to lock the door when I ran up to grab my toothbrush and stuff. It won’t stay closed unless you lock it with the key.”
“Then you should fix it,” Maddie said, her voice still thin and
half an octave higher than usual. “You’re a handyman for God’s sakes. You almost gave me a heart attack thinking something horrible had happened.”
“I’m sorry. Thanks for calling to make sure I’m still alive.” Mick knew better than to tell Maddie not to worry about him. Worrying was part of Maddie’s genetic code. “I’ll fix it as soon as I get home.”
“And when will that be?” Maddie asked. “And why do you sound so wide awake at four in the morning?”
Mick filled her in on the situation as Faith took the exit to stay on the I-10 West leading down to New Orleans.
“What’s the plan after you get there?” Maddie asked, the clanking of pots and pans in the background signaling that she was starting a batch of something while they talked.
Maddie opened the bakery four out of six days a week, arriving at four in the morning and staying until Naomi relieved her sometime between ten and noon. In four hours she somehow managed to make enough bread, cookies, and cakes to replenish Icing’s shelves for an entire day. Maddie said it was simply a matter of being organized, but Mick suspected there was black magic involved. He couldn’t make a single batch of edible cookies in four hours, let alone a few dozen.
“We’re going to pick up Faith’s mom, and head back home,” Mick said, meeting Faith’s eyes, and mirroring her shrug. They hadn’t discussed the plan in depth, but obviously they were both on the same page.
“Oh, no, you’re not,” Maddie said. “You can’t drive that many hours all in a row. You’re going to have to get some sleep first.”
“Maddie, it’s fine,” Mick said. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe her mom can help drive while we sleep or—”
“No way,” Maddie cut in as Faith gave an exaggerated shake of her head that made it clear having her mom drive would be taking their life into their own hands. “I’m going to book you a hotel room.”
Mick sighed. “Maddie, please, we don’t want to spend a day sleeping off a road trip in New Orleans.”
“Especially not with my mom in the same room,” Faith whispered, with a shudder. “She’ll drive us both insane by supper time.”
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