Sofie’s smile erased from her face. She sat up, fluffed her mahogany hair, and cleared her throat. “We were talking about Connor’s past. What did you want to know?”
She would have to get that story out of her bestie eventually.
“What’s his damage?” Faith leaned her elbows on her own desk and waited for a story. She didn’t get much of one.
“Well…to be honest, I don’t know a ton.” Serious now, Sofie raised her eyebrows and looked to the ceiling in thought. “I know that he was deployed for about four years, that he finished his tour of duty before returning to the Cove for good. Donny said he first went overseas after a split from his girlfriend. But he didn’t say much else about her. I guess it was pretty painful for him.”
Hmm. Faith considered this. A painful split from a girlfriend. She wondered if he was engaged as well, or maybe if he was cheated on. That would explain his reaction to Michael, the dirty, rotten, cheating bastard.
“I get that.” Faith reached for a pen and drew squiggles on her planner. “After catching Michael and Cookie together I felt like leaving the country.” Which brought her to her next confession. She blew it out on a breath, hoping the speed with which she announced it might cut through the pain. “They’re engaged.”
Nope. Still hurt. She forced herself to hold her chin up.
“No!” Mouth dropped open, Sofie resembled a gaping carp.
“Yes.” It also occurred to Faith that she had gone to Connor first, not Sofie. What did that mean? She decided to float down her river of denial on that topic as well. “Guess why he wanted the ring back?”
“What! He most certainly did not propose using the very same wedding ring!”
“He most certainly did.” Faith filled Sofie in about her trip to Abundance Market, the way the oranges rolled off the display, and the way she had found Cookie wearing Michael’s grandmother’s wedding band. “She has a blue streak in her hair.”
Clapping her hand over her mouth, Sofie’s eyes crinkled at the corners in a concerted effort not to laugh.
“Brave,” Faith kept her expression deadpan. “If my name was Cookie and I was a monster, I would not dye my hair blue.”
Sofie lost the battle and threw her head back and laughed. Faith joined her. It felt good to laugh. Even if it was over a blue-haired Cookie monster. They sobered a minute later.
“I needed that.” Faith swiped a finger under her eye to catch a stray tear. “So. Now that’s done. Like, done done. There’s no going back after he tried to commit a burglary and then got engaged to The Other Woman.”
Not that she had seriously considered taking him back last year, but for a second, she had begun to believe they could exist as friends. He’d proven to be as bad, maybe worse, than he was back then. The friendship door? Officially closed. Closed, locked, armed with a security system.
And guarded by an ex-military landscaper with deliciously large biceps.
She smiled to herself. Hey, it was her fantasy. May as well make it worth fantasizing about.
“Anyway,” Faith said, done talking about the topic. “When do you and Donny leave?”
“Two days.” Sofie studied the piles on her desk. “I’m going to have to take some of these things with me.”
“No, you are going to have to leave me really good notes. I will take care of whatever needs taken care of here so you can enjoy your vacation.”
“It’s your holiday, too.” Sofie rolled her eyes. “I mean…as much as your mother does holidays.”
“I forgot you knew all my secrets.” Faith should have thought to exclude Sofie from the people she had “never told” about her Thanksgiving past. Sofie was her best friend, had been since they worked together at the Wharf. Her best friend knew her better than she knew herself at this point.
“Like you could’ve kept them hidden from me for long.”
She was right. And Sofie had Faith’s back. Which also meant Faith had hers. “Leave good notes. And tell me everything you need for the toy drive. I’m not going to let you go to New York to spend the holiday relaxing and have work hanging over your head while you’re there.”
“Thank you.” She could see Sofie meant it, and trusted her, which was just as important.
“Besides, Thanksgiving is only one day, it’s not like I’m missing out on much.”
While Sofie went on about how true that was and the types of foods she was better off not eating if she did miss a Thanksgiving dinner, Faith smiled politely. Because she did not believe what she had just said—not really. Thanksgiving wasn’t only one day to Faith. Thanksgiving was the culmination of all the days that came before it, all the days that came after it, and led up to the holiday of ultimate togetherness: Christmas.
She’d missed out on so much. A dart of pain stabbed her in the chest. With effort, she brought her mind back to present, and paid attention to the notes she was taking on her planner. Writing down everything Sofie said, she vowed again to make her best friend’s holiday as stress-free as possible.
If Faith wasn’t able to have a Thanksgiving for herself, she may as well gift her friend with one.
CHAPTER 10
With Donovan and Sofie out of town, the house felt big and lonely. Yes, Connor was there on occasion, but since he had stopped dogging her every step, she hadn’t seen as much of him. Which meant he hadn’t collected on the kiss she promised him the day in the greenhouse.
Which bothered her.
And it shouldn’t.
Faith left the office and headed through the house in the direction of the kitchen. She’d been personally e-mailing invitees to the toy drive and it had taken all of her brainpower to remember to change the name at the top each time she copied/pasted the body of the message, as well as remembering to include a personal note about why the person was being invited.
Eyes blurry, the only thing she could think about was the Sugar Hi box with two frosted carrot cake cupcakes inside. A stray from her traditional Devil Dog, but it was autumn and autumn called for carrot cake.
She came to a halt at the threshold of the kitchen, her breath clogging in her throat.
Part of it was shock over the fact that Connor was leaning over the countertop inhaling one of her cupcakes. The other part, and the part she was having trouble reconciling, was the fact that there was a tear beneath one of the pockets of his jeans, and the slash of skin she was currently staring at was his bare ass.
He stood, chewing and smiling with his lips closed. She knew because she hastily redirected her gaze to his face. The way he licked the frosting off the corner of his mouth and lifted his brow suggested he may have caught her eyeballing something she shouldn’t.
“Tore them on a nail on the fence this morning.” He turned to look over his shoulder, splitting the tear with his fingers to show her a faint red scratch on one chiseled butt cheek. “Hurt like a bitch.” His eyes found hers and he gave her a sly smile. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to patch me up.”
She choked on her laughter, shaking her head for effect. “I don’t think so,” she said, trying to sound disgusted and not turned on.
His smile erased as his brow went down like she’d hurt his feelings. “You would deny me medical care in my moment of need?”
Flustered, she stepped past him and snatched the small white box off the counter, determined to change the subject. “I hope you know you owe me a cupcake.”
“Cupcake, I took that in payment for the kiss you never gave me.”
So he didn’t forget.
“You’d rather have a carrot cupcake than a kiss?” Her pulse pounded against her neck. She knew which one she would prefer, and hoped she was doing a good job hiding it.
“Hmm…” He made a show of craning his neck to look at the remaining cupcake in the bottom of the box. “It was a pretty good cupcake.”
Her mouth opened in argument, but the argument never came. And the reason it never came was because Connor covered her lips with his, launching his tongue into her
mouth. She tasted sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg from the frosting, and his mouth, which tasted wonderful because it tasted like him. The smell of lavender filled her senses, that earthy, spicy smell mingling in her nostrils and making her lean into him. Cupping the back of his neck, she tilted her chin, continuing their sparring session with fervor.
Noses bumped, his unshaven chin scraped her jaw, and his hands—his big, manly, rough hands—grasped her at the waist and pulled her flush against him.
This went on until finally, she had to pull back to inhale or suffocate. Not a bad way to go, she’d admit. Now she was panting and trying to recalibrate her brain cells, which had apparently oozed right out of her ears since Connor put his mouth on hers.
He looked as dazed as she did for a second before his smile snapped into place. “Nope. That was much better than the cupcake.”
Since she was warmed by his compliment as well as that toe-curling kiss, she laughed. Light and effervescent, the giggle rolled around her chest for a few seconds. She hadn’t stepped away from him yet, so she rested her arms on his big shoulders and looked him in the eye, which was not hard to do considering she had on high heels today.
“And here I thought you forgot. Since then your mind seems to have been elsewhere.”
His gaze fettered to the side, his face going a little too serious for the light moment. He recovered quickly, flashing her a smile that was a bit disingenuous.
“Been busy.” He straightened, but his hands stayed on her hips, warming her skin through her skirt. “Want to see what I’ve been busy doing?” He tipped his head in the direction of the utility room standing behind him.
She felt her teeth scrape her bottom lip as she looked in the direction of the washer and dryer. He meant the door leading beyond that room. Where he kept his greenhouse and the patented lavender that had soaked into her brain—a smell she would forever associate with Connor McClain.
“I don’t know. The last time we were in there…” she started. He ducked his head and kissed her lips, just a peck, and embarrassingly enough, when he pulled back she found herself leaning into him, lips pursed, wanting more.
“Yeah, I’m not really seeing any argument about what happened in there.”
There was part of her warning she should probably stop kissing him altogether. Granted, he didn’t seem to be throwing her onto the ground and devouring her; it was only kissing. But only kissing would lead to more.
Her eyes traveled the expanse of his sure shoulders. She wanted more. Was it possible to have more without having “all”? Because if more was an option, she was so in. She’d mentioned before to Sofie and Charlie how she had no interest in permanence. That her next relationship would be a one-night stand. She had even joked that the man standing in front of her now might be the one-night standee.
She wasn’t in any position to be in a relationship. He knew that. And he hadn’t argued the fact when she said it before. Sure he told her she was in the “perfect position to be kissed,” but he hadn’t said anything about them being anything to one another. They were friends. They had now kissed three times, give or take a few small smooches. And they were still friends. She didn’t feel an overwhelming urge to put a label on it.
So she wouldn’t.
Tugging her hand, he led her through the utility room, down the hall, and into the indoor greenhouse. Willingly, she followed. He popped open the door, and Faith pressed a hand to her chest, her mouth dropping open in awe of what was before her.
Poinsettias. Poinsettias everywhere. “Oh my gosh, they’re beautiful.”
“I cleaned out several local florists. Takes ten weeks to grow them from scratch. Didn’t have that kind of time since the toy drive is in three weeks. Although”—he dropped her hand and walked over to one of the plants, gingerly stroking the red leaves—“I couldn’t risk waiting until the week before the drive and not being able to find any.”
“How long do they stay in bloom?”
“Typically? Month, month-and-a-half, longer if you baby them. Which I have been.”
She’d bet. He was good at caring for things. People. Her.
“It’s seventy-eight degrees in here, and needs to stay right around that. Basically, if you are comfortable, the poinsettias are comfortable.” He gestured around the room to the grow lights, a fan blowing gently, and a large white square thing she assumed was a heater.
She couldn’t help smiling at the idea of this big, rugged man pampering these delicate red-leaved plants. She’d never kept a plant alive in her life. She didn’t have a green thumb, more like a black one. Assisting plants to their imminent demise…like a horticultural grim reaper.
“How is it that you are a complete badass, who carries a gun, hurdles my balcony, protects me from my ex-fiancé, and yet you have a gentle enough touch to care for dozens of fragile plants?” she asked.
The heat in his eyes intensified as he prowled over to her, his big body moving fluidly. He was a case study in opposites. Hard but gentle, big but agile.
“That sounded like an offer,” he said when he stopped in front of her.
Sputtering, she tried to laugh that off. “Hello? Ego. I was paying you a compliment. I didn’t mean anything more.”
He crossed his arms and tipped his chin up, looking down his nose at her. “Oh yeah? Your ‘compliment’ included the words badass, protects, gentle, and touch. Are you honestly telling me none of those descriptors dampened your panties?”
On the inside, his brash words shocked her, and yeah, okay, did in fact dampen her…well…whatever. On the outside, she gave him a smug look and offered a smooth comeback.
Folding her arms much in the same way he had folded his, she said, “Well, I would ask you if I had the same effect on you, but you don’t wear underpants.”
The zinger didn’t make him laugh or argue. He came closer. Arms still crossed, he leaned down and got in her face. “That sounds like an offer, too.”
She thought she might get a kiss again, but he straightened away from her, his lips twitching. “Need you to do something for me.”
“Ohh-kay.” She had no idea if he was going to stick to the topic or veer from it. There were plenty of things she could think of to do “for” him, and none of them would require underpants.
“Come to Thanksgiving dinner at my family’s house.”
Her eyebrows rose. Last thing in the world she’d expected him to say to her.
“I may not be into the holidays like I used to be, Cupcake, but everyone should experience a traditional turkey day. You’ve missed out for a while now. That’s not right. My mom would love the company. She makes enough to feed twice as many people as are there anyway.”
“I couldn’t…” What she couldn’t do was finish her sentence. Already, her mind was whirring with images she’d seen on television and movies, paintings, and advertisements. Dressed turkey. Beautiful side dishes. Family and friends gathering to pray, laugh, and share stories of holidays past.
“Not only can you, you will.”
“Oh, I will, will I?” She narrowed her eyes at him, hoping to convey defiance, but in reality downplaying a deep, dark longing left over from her childhood.
“Thursday, six sharp.” His eyes cut down her shirt and skirt combo and back up. When he reached her face, his eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. “It’s pretty casual around there, but I gotta tell you, I like you in a dress.”
Now she was grinning. “You do, do you?”
“Legs, Cupcake.” Then he winked and left her standing among many, many potted poinsettias. As she approached one of them to check the dirt as Connor had done, she felt a small smile curl her lips. Finally, she would get to experience a real family dinner. The idea made the pit of her stomach ache, and her heart beat extra fast. Her first real Thanksgiving.
And she would be spending it with Connor McClain.
* * *
Downright assaulting cold air kicked off the lake in the winter. This being the end of November, Thanksgiving ev
ening was no exception.
Connor offered to pick her up at her place since she hadn’t worked at the mansion today. The day off was at Sofie’s insistence. When Faith called to ask a quick question about a forthcoming event, she’d also mentioned going to Connor’s family’s house for dinner. Sofie had insisted—well, first she’d shrieked “squee!” then she’d insisted—on the day off.
So far Faith spent most of her day planning what to wear. Shallow, maybe, but if Linda Shelby taught her one thing, it was she only had one chance to make a first impression. Connor had said to dress casually but he liked her in a skirt. Since it was about fifty degrees outside, she was not excited to wear her new charcoal gray skirt…unless she paired it with the thick pair of plum-colored tights she’d dragged out of her drawer.
Her shower had been an ordeal and a half. She applied a hair mask to get her extra fine locks to lay smooth and soft, and then spent an hour blowing out her hair with a dryer set on low to ensure smooth and soft lasted the entire evening.
Undergarments were easy. She’d invested quite a lot of money in her underthings over the years. Pretty panty sets with matching bras were her staple. Another lesson from Mom: no matter what, if a girl looks good under her clothes, she feels good.
She pulled on a pair of pink lace panties and matching bra before consulting her closet one final time. She had laid out the skirt, cream-colored sweater, and tights, but now, in spite of shaving her legs to smooth perfection, she was not feeling this particular ensemble.
She hung the outfit back in her closet and debated on dress pants next. But this wasn’t a family meeting. A pair of distressed denim draped over a hanger and she tugged those off, choosing an olive green button-down shirt with a faint floral print on it. Once she had that on, she looped a leopard print scarf around her neck and chose gold hoops for her ears and one ring, also gold, made to resemble a belt, complete with buckle. Her waist-length green-brown peacoat with large brass buttons and knee-high brown flat-heeled boots capped off her wardrobe.
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