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
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
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