room bright purple when I was ten. Purple was my favorite color. Every time I moved to a new place, I'd always have to paint my room. It helped keep some things the same throughout my mom's rather colorful marital life. What about your parents?"
"My father passed away when I was nine."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Here I am complaining about my parents."
"Don't worry. It's fine. I'm lucky to have the family I have. My mom worked hard to make sure we didn't miss out on much."
"Is your sister younger or older?"
"Younger. I was the man of the house."
The light tone Nick adopted couldn't hide his sense of duty.
"You feel responsible for your sister," Micky said. She understood that. Pete took his role as the reliable man in her life as seriously as a good father.
"Sure, and for my mom. She's getting older. She had a fall over a year ago and hurt her hip and back. She had to retire. It's time for me to pay her back."
"What did she do?"
Nick hesitated, lifting his chin. "She owned a cleaning business."
"Like a maid service?"
"Not exactly. Her company cleaned commercial properties like office buildings and hotels. She started out as a housekeeper; then she went out on her own with some friends. It's never been a big moneymaker, but she supported us after my dad died."
Micky's mother, Lillian Burrows, never had an occupation. Her work was staying in shape and keeping her husbands happy, but being the fun, trophy wife isn't something you put on a resume. Micky had every advantage growing up but sometimes felt like that was a side note to her parents' getting what they wanted. Her stepfathers paid the bills. Her dad gave her presents, but was never present.
"You adore her. I can tell." Micky grinned, and Nick returned the smile.
"I do. She drives me crazy, but I wouldn't trade her for anything. The fall scared me. I have to make sure that she's has what she needs."
"Do they still live here in Dallas?"
"Sure. My sister is here with her family. She has a husband and two daughters. I don't have that, so I can focus all my energy on making sure my mother stays out of trouble."
"Who keeps you out of trouble?"
"They split duty on that, I think. What about you?"
"Hmm. I don't know that Pete's too good about keeping me in line, but he looks out for me. It's funny. I used to wish Pete had been a girl. I'd go visit my dad in the summer and try to make Pete go shopping with me and help me pick out makeup. He was pretty good about taking me, although I think it became an excuse for him to go to the mall and flirt with older girls at the food court. There was one at the Orange Julius he was particularly fond of."
Nick laughed. "Mall girls were hot. Cute uniforms and ponytails. Plus, they wore name tags so you could walk right up and start talking."
"Uniforms and ponytails, huh? Must be hard to find your ideal lady now that you're over twenty."
"My tastes have evolved," Nick countered, the heat from his brilliant green eyes creeping into her cheeks.
"What's your type now?" she asked.
"I don't know that I have one. There are lots of women in the world. Each has her unique charm."
"That doesn't bode well."
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds like you can be swayed by whatever charming woman crosses your path," Micky explained.
Nick frowned. "I just don't think there are physical characteristics—blonde hair or brown eyes, tall, short, whatever—that can tell you how you're going to feel about someone. I've dated all kinds of women, and they all have something unique to appreciate."
"Must be hard to narrow the field," Micky replied, unreasonably peeved.
"Not necessarily. When you know, you know."
"I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic."
"Really? I thought I was pretty charming." Nick crinkled his brow and smiled.
Micky pondered what Nick said as their conversation continued, and she ordered another drink. As dinner progressed, he started looking better and better. Micky liked him despite her sense that something else was going on
"My father passed away when I was nine."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Here I am complaining about my parents."
"Don't worry. It's fine. I'm lucky to have the family I have. My mom worked hard to make sure we didn't miss out on much."
"Is your sister younger or older?"
"Younger. I was the man of the house."
The light tone Nick adopted couldn't hide his sense of duty.
"You feel responsible for your sister," Micky said. She understood that. Pete took his role as the reliable man in her life as seriously as a good father.
"Sure, and for my mom. She's getting older. She had a fall over a year ago and hurt her hip and back. She had to retire. It's time for me to pay her back."
"What did she do?"
Nick hesitated, lifting his chin. "She owned a cleaning business."
"Like a maid service?"
"Not exactly. Her company cleaned commercial properties like office buildings and hotels. She started out as a housekeeper; then she went out on her own with some friends. It's never been a big moneymaker, but she supported us after my dad died."
Micky's mother, Lillian Burrows, never had an occupation. Her work was staying in shape and keeping her husbands happy, but being the fun, trophy wife isn't something you put on a resume. Micky had every advantage growing up but sometimes felt like that was a side note to her parents' getting what they wanted. Her stepfathers paid the bills. Her dad gave her presents, but was never present.
"You adore her. I can tell." Micky grinned, and Nick returned the smile.
"I do. She drives me crazy, but I wouldn't trade her for anything. The fall scared me. I have to make sure that she's has what she needs."
"Do they still live here in Dallas?"
"Sure. My sister is here with her family. She has a husband and two daughters. I don't have that, so I can focus all my energy on making sure my mother stays out of trouble."
"Who keeps you out of trouble?"
"They split duty on that, I think. What about you?"
"Hmm. I don't know that Pete's too good about keeping me in line, but he looks out for me. It's funny. I used to wish Pete had been a girl. I'd go visit my dad in the summer and try to make Pete go shopping with me and help me pick out makeup. He was pretty good about taking me, although I think it became an excuse for him to go to the mall and flirt with older girls at the food court. There was one at the Orange Julius he was particularly fond of."
Nick laughed. "Mall girls were hot. Cute uniforms and ponytails. Plus, they wore name tags so you could walk right up and start talking."
"Uniforms and ponytails, huh? Must be hard to find your ideal lady now that you're over twenty."
"My tastes have evolved," Nick countered, the heat from his brilliant green eyes creeping into her cheeks.
"What's your type now?" she asked.
"I don't know that I have one. There are lots of women in the world. Each has her unique charm."
"That doesn't bode well."
"What do you mean?"
"It sounds like you can be swayed by whatever charming woman crosses your path," Micky explained.
Nick frowned. "I just don't think there are physical characteristics—blonde hair or brown eyes, tall, short, whatever—that can tell you how you're going to feel about someone. I've dated all kinds of women, and they all have something unique to appreciate."
"Must be hard to narrow the field," Micky replied, unreasonably peeved.
"Not necessarily. When you know, you know."
"I wouldn't have pegged you as a romantic."
"Really? I thought I was pretty charming." Nick crinkled his brow and smiled.
Micky pondered what Nick said as their conversation continued, and she ordered another drink. As dinner progressed, he started looking better and better. Micky liked him despite her sense that something else was going on
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