Hot For You (2 page)

Mick had felt like a prisoner the entire time. By the time graduation rolled around, he was so miserable and exhausted and plain sick of being held hostage that he’d left the ceremony early, loaded his stuff into his truck, and hit the road with his graduation gown still on over his jeans and T-shirt.

Ten hours later he was pulling into Summerville with a new cell phone number and a new lease on life, determined never to look back, and never to be sucked into that kind of destructive relationship ever again.

So even though it would be easier to tell Nina “sure” he’d be her date, and pick her up on the way to the party, all while keeping his emotional distance until she got the hint, Mick shook his head. “I think I’ll go solo,” he said gently. “You’re gorgeous and fun, Nina, but I think we’d be better off as friends. If that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, yeah, totally.” Nina laughed and rolled her eyes even as she scrambled in her purse for her keys, obviously ready to make a quick getaway now that Mick had given her the “just friends” talk.

“So, I’ll see you New Year’s Eve.” She threw the words over her shoulder as she slid into her car, already fitting the key in the ignition before Mick could close the driver’s side door.

“See you then.” He slammed the door and stood back on the sidewalk, waiting to make sure she got off safely. When she peeled out into the street without bothering to check her rearview mirror, Mick silently reaffirmed his decision to forgo more than friendship with the redhead. If the beat-up white pickup truck coming down Main hadn’t braked, it would have hit her.

Poor driving was fairly low on his list of deal-breakers, but it was on there. Along with girls who spoke in a baby voice, girls who talked trash about other girls, girls who couldn’t say they were sorry, and girls who communicated solely in text emoticons.

Bet Faith’s never used an emoticon in her life,
he thought with a wistful sigh as he turned back toward the bakery to see the white truck pulling to a stop in front of the fire station. A moment later, a blonde in a camouflage jacket and bright orange hunting pants hopped out of the passenger’s side.

Even before she jogged around the front of the truck, giving him a clear view of her gorgeous face, Mick knew it was Faith.

She really was gorgeous—wholesome, All-American girl from her turned-up nose, to her big brown eyes, to that silky hair that fell in long, soft waves to the center of her back—but with an edge. Her plush lips leant her face an inherent sensuality and the sharp intelligence in her eyes had made a dormant part of Mick sit up and take notice. For the first time in over a year, he felt a spark of something more than attraction. He was curious to know what Faith was thinking, what she was feeling, and if she felt as drawn to him as he did to her.

Considering that at this point in his life, Mick wanted no part of a relationship, those feelings should have made him turn tail and head up to his room without another glance in Faith’s direction.

Instead, he grinned like a kid who had gotten everything he wanted for Christmas as he started down the sidewalk.

“Bye, Buddy. Love you. Thanks for everything,” Faith said in her husky drawl, the one that made Mick think of venison stew, old whiskey, and other things you wanted to savor.

Right now it also made his smile transform to a scowl as he sized up the man driving the truck, a guy with blond hair the same shade as Faith’s and a scraggly goatee.

“Anytime, scrapper.” Buddy reached out the window to ruffle Faith’s hair. “You’re always welcome. Hope we get to see more of you this year.”

“Count on it,” Faith said, snagging a backpack from the back of the truck. “Are you sure you can’t stay? I know Jake and Jamison would love to see you.”

“Nah, I’ve got to get back. I’ve missed too much work this week,” Buddy said, already easing off the brake. “But tell Aunt Pressie and the boys hi for me.”

“Will do,” Faith said, a big smile on her face as she waved good-bye to the man Mick assumed must be her cousin—or at least he hoped so.

A moment later she turned back toward the fire station only to freeze halfway around, the smile dropping from her face the moment her eyes met his.

“You,” she said with a disgusted shake of her head, her tone inferring that finding Mick starting across the street toward her was only slightly less disgusting than discovering she’d stepped in a steaming pile of dog doo. “What are you doing here?”

“I live above the bakery now.” Mick forced a smile, refusing to take Faith’s scowl at face value. She’d acted irritated with him at the Fireman’s Ball, too, but she’d also kissed him like his mouth contained the last gasp of air in a burning building.

Things weren’t always what they seemed with Faith, which was part of the reason he found her so damned interesting.

“Great,” she said with a sigh, swinging her backpack over one shoulder. “When did that happen?”

“Last week, right after the store opened.” Mick stepped onto the sidewalk beside her. “And not long after Jake and Naomi got engaged. A lot of things have changed while you’ve been gone.”

Faith snorted in a way that Mick found inexplicably sexy. “Duh. I knew that was going to happen. I knew before anyone. I have a phantom limb that tingles when people are getting ready to get hitched, and it was tingling big time for those two.”

Mick grinned. “A phantom limb?”

“Yes,” she said, standing up straighter, her posture making it clear she wasn’t in the mood to be teased, which of course only made Mick want to tease her more.

“So, where was this limb before it became a phantom, marriage-foretelling limb?” he asked, letting his eyes roam up and down Faith’s body, disturbed to realize that he found her sexier in orange pants and an oversized jacket than he’d found Nina in her skimpy dress. “Was it a third arm, or a third leg?”

“It was a vestigial tail,” she said with a straight face. “And I know you don’t want to come on to a girl who used to have a tail, so take a step back, Whitehouse.”

“I wouldn’t care if you
still
had a tail, Miller,” he said, ambling closer, until their frosty breath mingled between their faces. “I’d still want to take you out.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed. “Stop it,” she said in a softer voice. “We talked about this.”

“We did not,” Mick said, deliberately playing dumb. “I don’t remember any talk about your tail. If I had, I would have asked Maddie to knit you a tail warmer instead of that horrible vest she made me for Christmas.”

Faith’s lips quirked up at the edges. It was a flicker of a smile, but enough to give Mick hope.

“Come on,” he said. “Give me a chance. Let me take you and your tail out to dinner.”

“I never had a tail, and I certainly don’t have one now,” she said, then added after a beat, “As for the other…I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.”

“Liar,” Mick said, knowing he was right when Faith’s eyes widened and a spark flickered in their warm brown depths.

“I think you’re interested,” he continued. “And I think if I kissed you right now, you’d kiss me back the way you did at the ball.”

“If you try, I’ll pound your face.” Faith’s voice was so breathy Mick wouldn’t have heard her if he weren’t close enough to feel her warmth caressing the front of his body, close enough to smell the campfire and soap and Faith smell of her, the one that made every hormone in his body sit up and take notice.

“I thought we’d gotten past that stage,” Mick said, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her softly parted lips, lips that begged for a kiss no matter what words they’d just spoken. “I thought you apologized for pounding on me when we were kids.”

“I did, but we’re not kids anymore.” Her gaze lingered on his mouth long enough to make things low in Mick’s body ache before she lifted her eyes to his. “And I seriously can’t do this. I won’t. I told you, I don’t date, especially guys like you.”

Mick frowned, the teasing expression abandoning his face. “Faith, I don’t know what kind of guy you think I am, but I’m not one of the bad ones. I don’t want to hurt you. I only want to get to know you better.”

And hopefully get you out of my system before I get any more obsessed.

But Mick didn’t tell her that part. She was skittish enough already.

“I mean, seriously,” he pressed when she didn’t respond. “I’m an okay person. I love my family and would do anything for a friend. I go to mass every Saturday, even when my mama isn’t around to make me. I don’t lie, cheat, steal, or pick my nose while I’m driving.”

Faith huffed and rolled her eyes, but the sound was close enough to a laugh for Mick to keep going.

“And I don’t make a habit out of begging girls for dates,” he said, brushing Faith’s hair over her shoulder, wishing he could let his hand linger in the silky strands. “But I’m having a hard time getting you out of my head. Just give me a chance. If we go out, and you still can’t stand me, I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”

Faith looked up, a shadow passing behind her eyes. “And what if I don’t want you to back off?” she asked, the husky question one of the sexiest things Mick had ever heard.

“Then I guess I’ll have to get closer.” Mick leaned in, already imagining how she would taste, how her body would fit against his like they were made to be a matching set. But before his lips could meet hers, her hand slipped between them, covering his mouth with her cold fingers.

“Or you might back off when I least expect it,” she said, holding his eyes with an intensity that made his pulse speed even as his chest tightened with recognition.

He’d been wrong—Faith was afraid of something, after all.

“I can’t make any promises about how things might work out long-term,” Mick said, murmuring the words against her fingers. “But I’ll be honest with you. If it came time for me to back off, I guarantee you’d see it coming.”

Faith smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile, it was the jaded grin of someone who had lost her faith in happily ever after. Mick knew that smile. There were mornings when it was the first thing to greet him in the mirror.

“You can’t guarantee anything, and
that
is why I don’t date,” she said, dropping her hand from his lips. “I don’t like things with no guarantees, especially things that come waltzing in promising hearts and stars and sparkles and leave broken people behind. I had enough of that growing up.”

Mick nodded, a wave of sympathy for the little girl Faith had been washing through him. He didn’t know a whole lot about her family, but he knew Faith had never had a dad figure, at least not one who stuck around for more than a year at a time.

“All right,” he said. “It makes me sad for you, but I understand.”

Faith laughed, a sharp bark that echoed down the quiet street. “Don’t waste your energy, Whitehouse. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I’m perfectly happy the way I am.”

A part of Mick was tempted to call her a liar again, but the part that wanted to pull her in for a hug and tell her it was okay not to be so tough all the time simply nodded. “All right, then. So… I’ll see you around?”

“Not if I see you first,” she said, backing an awkward step away. “But yeah, see you, Mick. Thanks for being cool.”

“No problem,” he said, watching her turn to go, knowing that he was anything but cool. He was warm all over, filled with a strange mix of longing and empathy and curiosity that made his skin feel too small.

No matter what he’d said to Faith, one thing was certain—he wasn’t about to give up on her. Their conversation had only made him more determined to know her better. He wanted to be her friend, to make her feel safe letting down her guard, and be the man who was by her side when she finally stopped fighting all that bottled-up longing inside of her.

Call him crazy, but Mick had a feeling a night with Faith would be a night he’d never forget.

With one last glance at the firehouse and the backpack-wearing shadow moving across the second floor to greet another firefighter with a punch in the arm, Mick smiled and headed back across the street. Tonight he’d lost a battle, but he was determined to win the war, and another taste of Faith Miller’s incomparable lips.

Chapter Two

A party. Faith was going to a party—willingly, without anyone bashing her over the head and dragging her from her house, without threats or bribes or the lure of massive amounts of birthday cake to get her out the door.

Even more extraordinary, she was wearing a skimpy, silver-sequined camisole under her winter coat, tight black jeans, and boots with stiletto heels that zipped all the way up to her knee. She looked like a girl, a
real
girl, the kind who drank too much pink champagne and giggled with guys in dark corners and made out with a stranger at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

She looked the part, and if she had anything to say about it, she’d be locking lips with someone she barely knew by midnight.

The thought was
way
out of her comfort zone—and vaguely repulsive, to tell the truth—but Faith was committed to the plan. She needed to banish the memory of Mick Whitehouse’s kiss from her thoughts, and if kissing other guys was the only way, then she was ready to pucker up and say “smooch me.”

Still, she was anxious, so anxious that her fingers fluttered at her sides and she was starting to feel dizzy from all the deep breaths she’d taken.

“Don’t be nervous.” Her friend, Kitty, gave Faith a few encouraging thumps on the back as they hurried down Main Street, past restaurants filled with people lingering over their New Year’s Eve dinners. “You’re going to have fun.”

“You swear Melody doesn’t mind you bringing me along?” Faith asked.

“Not at all,” Kitty said, dismissing Faith’s concern with a wave of her arm. “She’s excited to catch up with you. She’s great, I promise. Girlier than my average friend, but fun and sweet, and once you’re her people, she’ll always have your back. You two will get along like peas and carrots. I promise.”

“Cool,” Faith said with a smile, trusting Kitty at her word.

She and Kitty had reconnected last year when Kitty, the only female mechanic in town, had miraculously brought Faith’s one-foot-in-the-junkyard truck back to life. They’d gotten to talking, discovered a mutual love of 5ks and old cars, and gradually become good friends.