by Mara Leigh
Bad Habit
Mara Leigh
Half Dome Press
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Author
Sneak Peek of Bad Boy Next Door
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
A Note to Readers
Also By Mara Leigh
One
Mac
The afternoon sun penetrated the thick blanket of fog hugging the South San Francisco hills, and I tossed my sweaty shirt to the side of the court to soak in some early summer rays. Nothing could spoil a day like today.
Manny threw me the ball, and I lined up my foul shot. I bounced the ball three times, spun it between my palms, bounced it one final time… and then I took my shot. Nothing but net.
Manny and I high-fived as Isaiah and Justin took possession, the latter moving to the top of the key. I guarded Justin, trusting that Manny would cover Isaiah under the net.
“Your shoe’s untied.” I lunged for the ball.
Justin deked to the side. “Nice try, Mac.”
“No, seriously. You’ll trip.”
Justin looked down, and I slapped the ball from his hands and went in for the layup.
“Fantastico!” Manny said as he gave me another high five.
Isaiah took the ball, and I stuck with Justin while Isaiah and Manny jockeyed for position.
Several times, my teammate nearly got the ball from Isaiah. Isaiah faked passing to Justin, then plowed toward the basket himself. Guarding him, Manny tripped and fell on his ass. “Foul!”
Isaiah dunked the ball, then passed it to me. “Tied at fourteen.”
“No fucking way.” Manny charged Isaiah. “I called a foul!”
Isaiah widened his stance. “Nice try, asshole.”
“Chinga tu madre!” Manny got up in the much taller Isaiah’s face.
“What did you say about my mother?” Isaiah glowered, fists at his sides.
My teammate clearly had a death wish. “Hey, guys. Let’s just play, okay?” I try to calm them down.
“Fine with me.” Manny grabbed the ball from my hands. “My free throw.”
“No way, pussy.” Isaiah stepped toward Manny, but I sidled in front of him.
“What did you call me?” Manuel raised his chin.
I shook my head at my teammate. Based on our loose rules, the foul was Manny’s call to make, but Isaiah rarely backed down. Manny knew that. Why not give the other team the point? Wasn’t like we were playing for money.
I had to take a side, but which one would avoid an all-out brawl? I glanced past the men to the chain-link fence and spotted Alessia, Manny’s new girl.
Now it made sense.
“Isaiah. Buddy.” I gestured with my head, and the big man followed me to center court. “Did you see who’s watching us play?”
Sweat glistened on Isaiah’s dark brown skin as he glanced toward the fence. “Who? You mean that hot chick?”
“Manny’s new girlfriend.”
Isaiah nodded in appreciation, then frowned. “You saying I should let him call a fake foul, just because he wants to get laid?”
“Pretty good motivation, no?” I grinned. “Can’t you give him one? Let the dude look good in front of his girl?”
Isaiah’s eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because you’re a decent guy.”
“Where’d you get that idea?” Isaiah said, but his position was softening. His shoulders relaxed, and the vein over his temple stopped pulsing. Using the bottom of his shirt, he wiped sweat from his brow.
“Do this for me?” I asked, then added, “Hey!” as if I’d just thought of something. “You and Angie need a new TV?”
“What?”
“New TV. Top of the line. Latest model straight from Korea. I meant to say something earlier. Me and my brothers, we imported some, and the supplier shipped extras. Want one?”
Isaiah frowned, but his eyes showed interest. “How much?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, really. We’ve got extras. Consider it a housewarming gift. How’s the new place working out, anyway?” I clapped him on the arm. “You ever going to have me over?”
Isaiah shifted his weight. “New place is great. Angie fixed it up nice. A decent TV would be… Does it connect to Wi-Fi?”
“You bet.”
“Stolen?”
“What?”
He raised his hands. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Just tell me when to drop it off.” I glanced around.
Manny was talking to Alessia, and Justin was taking shots.
“How about tonight?” Isaiah said. “Angie’s working the late shift at the hospital. I could thaw a couple of steaks.”
“I’ll take the steak.” I smiled. “But the TVs don’t arrive for a couple of weeks.”
Isaiah shook his head.
“No bullshit,” I assured him. “As soon as I get notice they’ve cleared customs, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Customs. Right. Sure, Mac. Whatever. Again… I do not want to know.” Isaiah’s smart watch lit up with a notification. “Shit. Gotta go.” He strode toward the gate, then turned back toward the other men. “Let’s settle this on Sunday?”
“Sunday works.” Justin took a jump shot, missing the basket by a foot.
“Manny?” Isaiah called out.
“Que?” Manny turned from his girl.
“Sunday? Four o’clock?”
“Sure.” Manny nodded. “Sounds good.”
More than a little pleased with myself, I raced toward the net to snag Justin’s next rebound.
Our game of two-on-two might be over, but I was glad I’d stopped my friends’ fight. Just like I always did with my brothers. Most of the time. Okay, at least when I wasn’t part of the fight.
I went up for a jump shot, but Justin slapped the ball from my hands, and then the two of us continued a loose pickup game until we were both drenched in sweat and Manny and Alessia had taken off.
“Wanna keep score?” I asked Justin. “A game of horse?”
Shouts rose from the next court, where a group of kids were playing. A couple of boys who looked about ten or eleven were shouting and shoving each other. Every instinct inside me wanted to prevent this fight, too. But it was none of my business.
The tallest girl, the whitest white girl I had ever seen, stepped between the fighting boys. Girl was either brave or stupid. She looked older than the boys, maybe sixteen or seventeen, but still… Those kids would crush her. I walked over to the fence dividing the two courts.
The girl’s hair was so blond it was nearly white, and her skin wasn’t much darker. It was a wonder she hadn’t turned beet red in the unexpected sunshine. She must be drowning in sunscreen, and I figured her pale complexion also explained her long-sleeved shirt, buttoned all the way to the neck. Didn’t explain her too-baggy pants, though, which looked five sizes too big for her small frame.
One of the boys shoved the other, and the girl caught an elbow in the cross fire. She staggered back a few feet.
“What’s going on?” I sped toward the gate between the two courts. “Don’t you know there’s no pushing in basketball?”
“Mac!” A kid who lived in Shady Oaks, my apartment complex, ran toward me. I hadn’t noticed him in the group before.
“Hey, Jeremy.” I draped my arm over his shoulder when he reached me, and we walked toward the top of the key.
The girl turned, her bright blue eyes wide and her mouth open. Her cheeks pinked in a fast, hard blush, and when our eyes almost met for a split second, she cast hers down like she’d been caught watching porn.
“Who’s winning?” I asked when I reached the two boys who were fighting.
“We are!” both kids said at the same time.
“A tie, then.” I planted myself between to them. “You guys need a referee?”
“Thank you very much for the offer.” The girl raised her chin. “But I’ll kindly ask you to return to your own playing field.”
“Playing field?” I chuckled.
Now I was closer and I’d heard her voice, I realized she wasn’t a kid. She was young, but not that young, and clearly considered herself in charge of this group.
“It’s called a court, Sister!” Jeremy said.
I leaned down toward the kid. “She’s your sister?”
Jeremy laughed. “No, she’s a sister. You know…” He shook his head.
“Oh!” The realization struck me fast. “Sorry, Sister.” That explained the modest clothes. “I haven’t seen you at St. Iggy’s. You new there?” As if I knew all the nuns. Ha!
She startled at my question, but her expression shifted one notch from hostile toward friendly. Still pretty far on the hostile side, though. At least wary. Maybe fearful? Time to turn on the Downey charm.
I crouched down to Jeremy’s height. “How about you vouch for me with the sister,” I said. “Tell her I’m a stand-up guy?”
“Like a comedian?” Jeremy asked.
“Stand-up guy means that you know me. That there’s no stranger danger, or anything like that.”
“Oh!” Jeremy’s face lit up and he turned toward the nun. “Sister, it’s okay. I know this dude. He’s Mac Downey. He’s not a molester or nothing.”
“Or anything,” the sister quickly corrected, and Jeremy shrugged.
I straightened to my full height, and she stepped back like the movement had pushed her. Her blush deepened.
“How about it, Sister?” I smiled my warmest smile, but it was wasted—she kept staring at the ground. “How about I go grab my gym bag and shirt, and I’ll be the kids’ ref for a while. Give you a break.”
“I don’t need a break.” Her chin lifted, and for a split second I wished she wasn’t a nun. She was kind of cute, and there was something appealing about the mix of apprehension and defiance in her eyes—at least for the instant she’d let me look into her eyes.
“Come on, Sister…” one of the boys said. “Let Mac be our ref. You don’t even know the rules.”
“Yeah!” some of the other kids chimed in. “Please, Sister, please?”
“You suck,” a tall Asian kid said from behind her.
She spun but couldn’t spot the culprit, and I was no rat. As she turned back toward me, I could tell I’d climbed another notch on her hostile-to-friendly meter. Progress.
“I’m sure Mr. Downey is busy,” she said.
“It’s no trouble, Sister. Really.” I grinned. “I’ll go grab my shirt.”
Faith
No matter what I said or did, the man would not go away.
After the basketball match, the children had scattered to the wind, leaving me fully exposed to this devil who stuck to me like the leeches from Emma Lake.
I did not like how the children’s parents allowed them to run wild in the streets of this dangerous city, but at least the poor lambs were safe for the hours they attended the mission’s church youth programs, and I was eternally grateful that the sisters and I could provide this small bit of shelter for their young souls.
Right now, I was the one needing shelter.
I had never been so uncomfortable in my entire life. In the three months since I’d moved to San Francisco, I’d been in more anxiety-inducing situations than I’d even imagined in the twenty-two years prior, but this moment was the absolute worst. Mostly because it wasn’t just about him—it was about me.
The man’s presence had lit a fire under my skin and sent demons to dance in my belly. It was as if the actual flames of hell were licking my body and possessing my tummy.
It was bad enough that this man, Mac, had barreled onto our court uninvited, but he’d done so while naked!
Mostly naked—with a naked chest and back and arms that were bigger and sweatier and more solidly formed than the marble sculpture of Zeus I’d seen at the art museum. And still exposed were similarly sculpted legs, sweaty below his shorts. At least his shorts were somewhat modest, only hinting at the form they concealed. Small mercies.
But even there, the Devil had tested me, forcing my gaze toward the man’s posterior as he bent to pick up the ball from the basketball field or crouched down to talk to the children. As we walked along the sidewalk, my mind was still filled with images of what mysteries might lie under those shorts.
Wicked, wicked, wicked. Everything about this man screamed wicked, designed for sin, and worse, he made me feel wicked.
“You’re new to the city, I take it.” His voice drew me from my lustful thoughts, but relit the heat flaming my skin.
“Excuse me?” My voice was rough, as if my throat and mouth had formed their first words after a yearlong vow of silence. I’d taken such a vow at thirteen.
“Where are you from?” He tossed the basketball between his huge hands as we walked the final block toward the St. Ignatius gymnasium. At least there I’d find sanctuary.
“Did you hear me, Sister? Where’d you grow up?” He was refusing to take my non-responses as evidence that I did not want to converse.
Why was he bothering me? Why would he want my personal information? Since moving to the big city, I’d been duped a few times, and I would not let it happen again.
I remembered a news story Sister Agatha had shown me. “Are you trying to steal my identity?”
He laughed. “Steal your identity?”
I stopped at the gymnasium door and took a deep breath to prepare to confront him. “I may seem naive, but I know what you’re doing.”
He leaned against the stuccoed wall of the church and looked down at me with a smile that was full of the Devil—objectively full of the Devil—there was no other way to describe it.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” he said playfully. “What am I doing?”
The word “bite” sent a shiver racing through me. “Identity theft. You’re trying to find out my information so you can pretend to be me.”
“Me, pretend to be you.” He nodded, still smiling. “I’m not sure how that would work.”
I bit my lower lip. He was right. Even if my identity were worth stealing, which it very much wasn’t, how could this man pretend to be me?
“Hey,” he said. “Sorry if I made you nervous back there. I should have introduced myself properly. Cormac Downey. People call me Mac. I’ve been a parishioner at St. Iggy’s since I was born.” He extended his hand.
Not wanting to be rude, I shook it and looked directly into his eyes for the first time. They were warm, kind—and deep green. And I had to admit that the man had done nothing overtly improper.
“Faith,” I said.
“Yes, faith…” He nodded toward the church, then shook his head. “Oh! That’s your name?”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Minnesota.”
“Faith Minnesota?”
“Faith Magnusson. You asked where I grew up.”
“Ah.” He held open the door of the gymnasium. “How long have you been in the Bay Area?”
“Three months and thirteen days.”
“And how many hours?”
I cocked my head to the side, calculating. Then I noticed his mischievous grin and how it made his eyes sparkle like freshly fallen rain on a grassy field. “S
top teasing me.”
He nodded with an apologetic look and gestured for me to go through the door.
On the threshold, I reached for the basketball, but he stepped up—so close to me that I had to back into the building—and then he followed me into the gym.
A few strides inside, he jumped up and threw the ball toward the basket. It passed through cleanly, bouncing down onto the hard floor, the echoing sound filling the room.
“Oh!” I clapped. “Very good job.”
“Thanks!” He laughed as he dashed past me and started bouncing the ball before it had fully settled. Then he jumped, spun in mid-air as he threw, and landed lightly on his feet as the ball dropped into the basket again, this time bouncing at an angle off the panel that held it to the ceiling.
“Ready?” he asked, holding the ball at his chest.
“For what?”
He thrust the ball forward. It bounced on the floor, then up toward me, stopping between my palms with a satisfying slap that stung my skin and woke my arms.
“Take a shot,” he said.
I shook my head. “Oh, I don’t play. I just supervise the children. Keep them safe.”
“Safe from dangerous men like me?” His grin was infectious. It was definitely a kind smile. And charming.
“Are you dangerous?” I bounced the ball against the floor, loving how it came up to meet my palms again.
“Nah.” He stepped toward me. “Not in the way that you mean, anyway.”
“And what do I mean?” I bounced the ball, this time using just one hand like I’d seen him doing, but I caught it with both.
“Well, I don’t want to rob you, or hurt you,” he said, “and I’d never do anything to harm those kids, any kids. I’m a decent guy.”
He did seem decent, although that was exactly how the Devil would present himself, wasn’t it?