To Tame a Wild Firefighter (Red Hot Reunions Book 2) (7 page)

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 stung. 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 NINE

Faith

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 good 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.”

“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.