Now, she felt curdled, like milk that had gone bad at the back of the fridge and was sitting around festering, waiting to ruin someone’s morning cereal.
As she and Mick waved good-bye to her mom and swung back into Faith’s truck, Faith slouched in the passenger’s seat, glaring out at the unreasonably sunny day, wishing she knew where her sunglasses had gotten off to. She would like something to hide behind, a shield to protect her from Mick’s curious glances until she managed to purge the sour from her system.
“You want to talk about it?” Mick asked as he eased out into the airport traffic, heading back toward downtown and the hotel Naomi had booked for them.
“Talk about what?” Faith sniffed and turned to look out the window, watching the people dragging luggage and children into the terminal, on their way to destinations unknown. She’d never been on a plane before and couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to fly when she was a kid. Back then, she and Pressie had barely had money for groceries, let alone plane flights or vacations.
“The fact that you’ve been scowling since we left your mom’s hotel,” Mick said. “Did you two get into a fight while I was grabbing breakfast?”
“No,” Faith said, not intending to say anything else on the matter. Unfortunately, it seemed her lips didn’t get the memo. “She just drives me crazy,” she added with a sigh. “She wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing you are, and what a good job I’d done snagging you, and on and on, even when I told her I didn’t want to talk about it.”
Mick grinned. “Well, I am pretty amazing.”
“No, seriously,” Faith said, not in the mood to joke around. “To hear my mom talk, this morning was the first time I’ve ever done anything interesting. Apparently, getting a good-looking guy to drive me to New Orleans is the most impressive thing I’ve achieved in twenty-three years of life on this earth.”
Mick was quiet for a moment before he put a warm hand on her thigh and gave a gentle squeeze. “I think it’s obvious your mom’s priorities are a little out of order.”
Faith snorted. “You think?”
“Have I told you that I like it when you snort?” Mick asked, making Faith snort again, this time with laughter.
“Because I do,” he continued. “I think it’s sexy.”
“As my Aunt Helen would say, you ain’t right, Whitehouse.” Faith shook her head as she smiled over at Mick, admiring the way the morning sun lit up his strong profile.
He grinned back at her, his blue eyes sparkling though the shadows beneath betrayed the fact that he’d been up all night. “You feel better?”
“Yes,” she said in a grudging tone, smile still firmly in place.
“Then are you ready to help me find this hotel?”
“Sure.” Faith picked up his phone. A few moments later she had the info. “You need to head right out of the airport and get back on the highway,” she said, reading out loud from the screen. “According to this, we’re only twenty minutes away.”
“Thank God,” Mick said with a sigh. “I’m so tired I’m starting to hallucinate. I swear I saw a clown waiting at that last crosswalk.”
Faith twisted to look through the truck’s back glass and laughed. “You’re not hallucinating. There’s a guy in a clown suit, wearing a ball cap, and carrying a guitar case.” She turned back around and propped her feet up on the dash. “Looks like New Orleans is a pretty entertaining place.”
“Too bad all we have time to do is sleep,” Mick said with a yawn. “But I’m too beat to even think about seeing the sights.”
“Me, too,” Faith said. “A cold, dark room with some heavy blankets and a fan going sounds like heaven right now.”
Mick moaned. “Oh man, that does sound good. I love a cold room when I’m sleeping. And lots of blankets.”
“Guess we’re going to be compatible bed partners, then.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” Mick asked, a husky note in his voice that made Faith blush.
“I’m going to be too tired for that too,” Faith warned. “So don’t get any ideas.”
“I know,” Mick said, laughing as he patted her leg with an affection that made Faith’s chest feel tight. “Just messing with you, Miller.”
“You are a mess,” she said before turning her attention back to their directions, ignoring the flutters trying to get started in her belly.
She had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before she and Mick took their sparkling to the next level—she wanted him too much to wait for months to be together—but she wasn’t ready yet. Things still felt too new, too raw. She’d never been as honest with a guy as she’d been with Mick this morning. She didn’t know if it was exhaustion that had made her vulnerable, or the sincerity in Mick’s eyes that had broken through her walls, but she was feeling a little shell-shocked. She needed time to adjust to the fact that she and Mick were a couple before they took things any further.
A couple. They were a couple, and Mick Whitehouse was her boyfriend. It was…surreal, but true.
He’d asked for the privilege on the way into the city, and she’d granted the title with all the seriousness of a nun swearing a novice into the church. But it was a serious thing for her. Mick was only her second boyfriend. Ever.
“Take the next exit,” Faith said, “and then turn right. The Carriage House should be on our left.”
Mick followed her directions, and within a few minutes, Faith’s battered pickup was pulling in front of a stately old mansion, complete with gigantic white pillars, antique lanterns burning on either side of the doors, and a gold plate on the bricks proclaiming the Carriage House a place of historical interest. Two live oak trees twined their gnarled branches together in front of the home-turned-hotel, blocking part of the second floor from view, but Faith could see enough to know Naomi must have paid big bucks for their rooms. Faith had never stayed in a place with pillars before, or with valets who rushed to open her door like she was visiting royalty.
“Welcome to the Carriage House,” the valet said, tipping his shiny black hat. “May I help with your bags, ma’am?”
“Um, thanks.” Faith slid out of the truck and grabbed her camo backpack from the backseat, clinging to the strap when the man reached to take it. “I mean, no thanks. I can carry it. It’s no big deal.”
“Of course, ma’am,” the valet—Thomas, according to his shiny gold nametag—said with a smile. “Do you have any other luggage you’ll need help with today?”
Faith shook her head, grateful when Mick appeared by her side and handed Thomas the keys to the truck and a ten dollar bill, thanking him before taking Faith’s hand and leading her up the wide brick steps to the door.
Faith glanced up at Mick as they walked, but if he felt self-conscious that they weren’t half as well-dressed as the valets, he didn’t show it.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Faith whispered as they stepped into the lobby, an elegant room filled with thick rugs and stately antique furniture.
The check-in desk was made of wood so polished it glowed in the dim light, and across the room floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a courtyard with a pool and over-stuffed cabana chairs that looked fancier than Faith’s couch. And she’d spent good money on that couch, determined to have one thing in her apartment that wasn’t purchased at a garage sale.
“This is it.” Mick squeezed her hand. “Don’t be nervous. Naomi always does this.”
“Spends half my monthly salary on hotel rooms?” Faith muttered, clinging to Mick’s arm as they got in line behind an older couple who reeked of money.
The woman’s wedding ring was as big as the acorns Faith’s Uncle Tip used to hire her to pick up in his backyard. He’d pay her fifty cents per bucket, a salary Faith had considered more than fair at age eight, and the only way she’d ever been able to afford candy at the Quikstop after school, or the occasional trip to the movies.
“Naomi’s been rich too long,” Mick murmured. “She forgets we normal people don’t need thousand
count sheets to get a good night’s sleep.”
Faith sighed. “I’m not going to be able to pay her back, Mick. I mean, this is crazy, I can’t—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mick stepped forward as the older couple moved to speak to the elegant, blond woman manning the desk. “Like I said, she doesn’t expect to be paid back.”
“But—”
“She a billionaire, Faith,” Mick said, making Faith’s eyes open wide. “She could buy Summerville if she wanted. She’s not going to miss a few hundred dollars.”
“You’re kidding me.” Faith’s fingertips dug into his arm as Mick shook his head. “But that’s crazy. She doesn’t seem like a billionaire. I mean she’s so nice. And normal. And she eats burritos from the food truck for lunch.”
Mick chuckled. “I know. She’s grounded, but she’s also loaded, so let’s just relax and enjoy the nice rooms she’s booked. We’ll send her a thank you note when we get home and I’ll get the marble countertop she ordered for Jake’s kitchen installed next week and she’ll be totally happy.”
“Okay, I guess so,” Faith agreed, but she was still feeling out of place when the older couple stepped away from the registration desk and the blonde with the delicate gold earrings and aggressively white teeth turned her smile their way.
“Welcome to the Carriage House,” she said. “I’m Clarice, how can I help you?”
“We have reservations, the last name’s Whitehouse.” Mick pulled out his wallet and fished out his I.D. “It should be two rooms for one night each.”
“Of course, Mr. Whitehouse. Let me pull up your reservation.” Clarice dropped her attention to her monitor while she typed. After a moment she paused, brows drawing together as her eyes scanned the screen. “Well, I have the reservation, Mr. Whitehouse, but I’m showing that it’s for one room for two nights.”
Mick leaned closer. “Are you sure? I was certain my sister said two rooms.”
Clarice shook her head. “I’m so sorry, but we just have the one, and unfortunately we don’t have another room available at this time. Would you like me to call the Dixie B-and-B down the street? They might have something free later in the day.”
Mick glanced at Faith, but she didn’t wait for him to ask what she thought.
“Let’s take the one room,” she said. “I’m so tired the thought of waiting ten extra minutes to sleep makes me want to fall on the floor and have a big, nasty cry.”
Clarice laughed softly before clucking her tongue. “You poor thing. Let’s get you two settled so you can get some rest.” A moment later she slid a small envelope with key cards inside across the desk. “You’re in room seventeen, end of the hall on the second floor. You can take the staircase to the left of the lobby. Please give me a call if there’s anything you need, or if I can do anything to make your stay more comfortable.”
“Thanks so much,” Faith said, as Mick took the keys and nodded good-bye to Clarice.
He led the way around the desk, twining his fingers through hers as they walked toward the staircase, which was nothing short of grand.
“Wow. I feel like I’m in an old movie,” Faith whispered as they started up the steps.
“I feel like I’m walking through quick sand.” Mick stretched his neck to one side and then the other. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until we got out of the truck. I’m sorry about the mix-up, but I was going to join you on the floor for that nasty cry if we had to wait to book another room.”
Faith chuckled. “That wouldn’t have been very manly of you.”
“My manly takes a hit when I’m this beat.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and Mick put his arm around her shoulders as they weaved their way down a long, eggshell colored hallway with lush oil paintings of the Louisiana bayou hanging on the walls between the rooms.
“Is the carpet moving, or is it just me?” Faith blinked at the paisley pattern beneath her feet, swearing the tails of the paisleys were wiggling like tadpoles.
“It’s not just you,” Mick said. “I see it too. Now both of us are hallucinating for real.” He hugged her closer. “Hold on. Only a few more minutes, angel, and we’ll be snuggled under the covers.”
Faith giggled. “Angel? Are you kidding me?”
“You don’t like being my angel?” Mick kissed her forehead before pulling away to pluck their key card from its envelope.
“I’m nobody’s angel,” Faith said in a low voice.
“Behave, Miller,” Mick said as he opened the door. “Just because I’m so exhausted the carpet is crawling doesn’t mean I won’t take an invitation seriously.”
“Just flirtation, Whitehouse, not an invitation.” Faith smiled, patting his cheek as she slipped past him into their room.
Inside, the space was as grand as the staircase, with a four-poster bed covered in a white duvet so fluffy the mattress looked like a cloud hovering in the center of the room. Faith was dimly aware of vaulted ceilings, a chandelier, impressive furnishings, and a sitting area with an antique claw-foot sofa, but it was the bed that made her sigh with relief at the sight of it.
“Oh, man,” Mick said, stopping next to her. “Race you to see who can get ready for bed first.”
“You’re on.” By the time she reached the bathroom door, Faith already had her toothbrush and toothpaste out of her backpack.
The bathroom was as spectacular as the rest of the space—with marble countertops, double sinks, a shower and tub, mounds of thick, fluffy towels, toiletries in what looked like crystal decanters, and a toilet with a separate door of its own—but Faith hardly noticed the fancy. She was so tired she felt like a zombie fresh out of its grave. She brushed her teeth and washed her face in record time, tag-teamed Mick for the toilet, and was back beside the bed in five minutes flat.
It was only then that she paused, realizing all she’d brought with her was a change of underwear and a spare t-shirt.
“What am I going to sleep in?” Faith asked, the problem baffling her exhausted mind. There were fluffy, white robes in the closet, but they would be too hot and bulky to sleep in.
“Underwear,” Mick said, stepping out of his jeans beside her and pulling his sweater over his head. “I won’t look.”
He moved past her, wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a white undershirt, looking so good half-dressed that Faith almost hated to see his body disappear beneath the covers.
She hesitated for a second, nervous about stripping down in front of Mick for the first time. But he had promised he wouldn’t look and she wanted to be in that bed beside him so bad her teeth ached with it. Shoving modesty aside, Faith wriggled out of her thermal shirt, peeled off her jeans and socks, and circled around the bed to crawl in beside Mick wearing nothing but her white tank top with the built in bra and a very sensible pair of pink bikini panties.
“I didn’t think you wore pink,” Mick mumbled as she lay down.
“You said you wouldn’t look.” Faith reached back to slap his shoulder.
“I couldn’t help myself.” Mick laughed as his arm went around her waist. He pulled her back against his front, snuggling her into a spoon position so lovely feeling Faith couldn’t force herself to pull away.
“I like you in nothing but underwear,” Mick said, his breath warm and minty on her neck.
“Oh, hush.” She put her arm over his and scooted closer, fitting herself into his embrace like a key into a lock, relishing the tingles that spread over every inch of her skin as their bodies connected.
Electricity raced from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and back again, filling her with a floaty, giddy feeling even as her eyes drifted closed. She couldn’t remember feeling so relaxed and aware at the same time, but she knew she liked the feeling. She liked it a lot.
“Goodnight, baby,” Mick whispered, his lips moving against the sensitive skin at the back of her neck.
Before Faith could say she liked ‘baby’ way more than ‘angel’ she was asleep, sinking into dreams as d
elicious as being in Mick’s arms.
Chapter Eight
Mick woke up so hard the cramping low in his body made him wince with discomfort, but he made no move to get out of bed. He didn’t want to move, to do anything to disturb the woman asleep in his arms.
They’d shifted sometime during the day and now Faith’s head was on his chest, her arm thrown across his stomach, and her leg hitched up around his thigh. She felt warm and soft and so perfect snuggled against him that Mick didn’t even mind that she’d drooled a little on his shoulder.
In fact, he kind of liked it.
You love her snorts and like her drool. Might as well propose right now, and be done with it.
Mick smiled at the ceiling. He wouldn’t be proposing anytime soon, but he couldn’t deny how right it felt to wake up with Faith. A part of him had worried that sleep deprivation was contributing to how attached he’d been feeling by the time they reached the hotel, but now, rested and refreshed, he knew it was more than exhaustion.
He could feel the barriers he’d erected after escaping Bridget washing away. He felt lighter than he had in months, cleaner and fresher and so happy he couldn’t keep from dropping a grateful kiss to the top of Faith’s head.
“Hmm…” She moaned and shifted, sliding her leg away from his. “What time is it?”
Mick glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Three o’clock.”
“Oh my God, you’re kidding me.” Faith lifted her head, swiping a sleepy hand across her face. “Ew.” She glanced down at his chest. “Dude, I think I drooled on you.”
“You totally drooled on me,” Mick said, arm snaking around her waist.
“I’m so sorry, I—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Mick said, rolling over, pushing her back onto the pillows. “I like it.”
Faith’s eyebrows lifted as her mouth curved at the edges. “You like it?”
“I like it.” Mick dropped his lips to her bare shoulder, pressing kisses along her clavicle until he reached the hollow of her throat.
“You’re a strange man.” Faith sighed and arched her back, granting him access to her neck as her arms wrapped around his chest.
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