A last look in the mirror had her feeling mighty pleased with herself. Maybe because on the outside, she looked comfortable and casual, but beneath she was a sexy siren. Linda Shelby was right.
Yet again.
She thought of the curse, but only for one fleeting second. Didn’t matter how cursed she was, her choice not to get married was an easy one to make after Michael had added his nuts to Cookie’s dough.
She snorted at her lame joke, then her smile faded as it often did when she thought of the way things had happened. Once, Faith told Sofie she wondered if she said yes to Michael’s proposal because she was curious to see if the curse was real—a sort of test. When she considered it now, it seemed true. But in her gut, in the pit of her heart, she knew it wasn’t. She’d been overtaken by the notion of someone wanting her. Wanting her forever.
No man had wanted her mother forever. Faith had a hazy recollection of her father, and her mother claimed not to know his whereabouts. He could be in Tahiti for all Faith knew. Albuquerque. Mars. He was, according to Linda, “a man who couldn’t take the pressure of being with a woman who was so independent.” And in that moment, standing looking at her peacoat and her carefully selected outfit, Faith wondered if that mantra hadn’t been pounded into her brain from birth.
In an effort to not be left behind by a man, had she tried to be less independent than her mother? Had that kept her from becoming a lawyer, or a doctor, or a CEO? Was the reason she’d frittered away her twenties as a waitress, bartender, and clerk in countless retail stores in the Cove to appear more approachable?
No, she decided, getting angry at the direction of her thoughts. Not everyone was born knowing what they wanted to be when they grew up. She learned a lot as the beer and wine buyer for Abundance Market, things that had helped her immensely as Sofie’s assistant. (Partner, Sofie would argue.) Faith enjoyed what she did, loved where she worked, and was glad her best friend could count on her when she was away.
The sound of a key in her door made her smile at her reflection as chills chased down her arms. Of course he’d let himself in. She liked the sound of him letting himself in.
She strode to the door and keyed in her alarm code to unarm the system. Connor was dressed in his signature style of jeans and a tight, dark-colored henley. He wore a jacket, old bomber-style brown leather, and a pair of laced boots in brown as well. He looked…wow. Incredible. Sure and strong and casual and damned sexy.
He pulled the key from the lock, and the smile that found his face was like the rest of him: warm and genuine.
“I went with jeans,” she explained needlessly. And maybe because this suddenly felt like a date. A very intimate, meeting-the-parents kind of date.
“Nice.” Given the way his eyes traveled the expanse of the denim to the boots and back up again, she guessed he approved. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, unfolded her hands, and reached for her purse dangling on the back of her kitchen chair. The bag was a wide-strapped leather, rust-orange with gold metal accents. Matched her fall outfit perfectly.
As she went to slip it onto her shoulder, he took it from her hand and dropped it onto the back of the chair. Then his hands were on her jaw, tilting her face up to meet his.
“’Bout to ruin your lipstick,” he announced before he smashed his lips into hers. She put her hand over his, her other clutching the cold leather of his coat, and kissed him. He smelled of lavender, and a faint but noticeable cologne, one fragrance complementing the other.
When he pulled back, there was a slight pink sparkle to his lips. She wiped the glitter away with her thumb.
“Sprinkles,” she said, her voice choked with lust.
“Sprinkles.” He brushed the side of her lips as well, holding her eyes in heated challenge. She wondered how this would go tonight, him and her, his family…
As if he read her mind, he said, “Everyone knows I’m bringing you. They assume we’re dating. I never bring women home.”
“Never?” She gulped.
“Not since Maya. Haven’t told you about her yet.”
She flinched, even though she didn’t mean to.
“You know?” His eyebrows raised in interest.
“I asked Sofie…about you. She didn’t know much.” Her lips stabbed her teeth, worried she had invaded his privacy.
His chin dipped in simple agreement. “It’s not a secret, Cupcake. I’ll tell you about her sometime.”
Fair enough. But there was a question she had for him. “How do you want me to behave tonight? I mean, around you. If they think we’re dating, or have been.”
He shrugged big shoulders. “However you like.”
She took her hands from his body to fold them together again. “I didn’t know if I should try not to touch you, or…” Or if his family would expect her to cling to him.
“You feel like touching me, Cupcake, touch me. That rule’s the same wherever we are.” He grinned, and the warm lighting in her living room made the traces of red stand out in the dark blond stubble dotting his jaw.
And what about kissing him? She didn’t ask. Surely, she could get through one dinner—a family holiday dinner—without sucking face. But as his firm lips closed in to steal one last short kiss before they left, she wondered if maybe she couldn’t.
CHAPTER 11
Outside Evelyn and Roger McClain’s two-story clapboard, Faith wrung her hands, gloved fingers laced together in what appeared to be nervousness.
Connor figured nerves were to be expected in this situation. Faith had a tight, close circle of friends from what he’d seen so far. Her family was just her mom and sister, and whatever younger man her mother was courting at the moment.
Eccentric did not describe his family in the least. Traditional, now there was a word. Simple. Well-meaning, but open-minded. His two older sisters were overprotective and fussy, his mother was almost as manly as his father, and Roger was a real man’s man, who drank Budweiser from a can and preferred fish on Fridays.
Faith chewed on her lip and bounced on her toes as Connor lifted a fist to knock. Cute that she was so anxious. He couldn’t resist teasing her more.
Lowering his arm without knocking, he said, “Fair warning. My mom can be cold at first. Takes a while for her to warm up to people. When you meet her, it’s best to shake her hand, and politely thank her for the invite. After dinner, she may engage you in conversation, but at first she’ll watch you like a hawk.”
Her breath was visible in the cool night air when she blew out the word, “Okay.”
He lifted his fist and solemnly knocked. “Here for you, Cupcake.”
Faith nodded, serious, and more nervous than before. He almost felt bad about it. Until his mother appeared in the doorway. Then, he didn’t.
Evelyn McClain threw open the door, apron on, flour in her hair, and a huge smile on her face. Gleaming golden eyes latched on to him, and she leaped onto the porch and hugged him against her, thumping him hard on the back.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Five pies. We have five pies.” She held him at arm’s length. “Have you ever in your life?”
He held out an arm in introduction. “Faith Garrett.”
She turned to Faith and he watched as his date stood taller and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. McClain.”
His mother’s head jerked on her neck. “Nice to meet—” She huffed, then clasped Faith to her bosom. “Nice to meet me! You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen!”
Faith’s eyes were wide, her chin on Evelyn’s shoulder while his mother patted her gruffly and continued to tell her how gorgeous every part of her outfit was. Finally, Faith caught on, and gave him the evil eye. Like he expected, her smile curled into a treacherous warning that said she’d get him back for that.
He looked forward to it.
Evelyn held her at arm’s length as well, admiring her some more. Connor couldn’t blame his mom. Where Faith was concerned, there was a lot to admire. “We are so, so glad to have you
here, Faith. And please, call me Lyn.” She turned and bustled back to her kitchen, stating again there were “five pies.”
Connor took Faith’s hand and led her inside.
“Any other lies you’d like to tell me before I go in?” she asked.
Smiling, he shook his head, glad he brought her. Glad he insisted she come. “No, just that one. My sisters are the same, but they’ll be curious. Like, twenty-questions curious. Only answer what you want. They can be…aggressive.”
“Aggressive?” Her steps faltered in the foyer as he shut the front door.
“In a nice way.”
* * *
Rapid-fire conversation shot around the McClain dinner table at a rate Faith could scarcely follow. First there was the prayer, led by Roger and chimed in by Evelyn. Then Connor’s sisters got the giggles during. Faith sat between Dixie, the oldest—her brown hair like her father’s and golden eyes like her mother’s—and Connor, holding their hands over the table. Her hand was thrust up, then down when Dixie snorted.
Evelyn—Lyn, she’d insisted—shushed her eldest and Dixie pulled it together, but Faith and Connor’s other sister, Kendra, were pressing their lips tight to keep more laughter at bay. Kendra resembled her father, with her dark eyes and pronounced nose, but her hair was a fairer shade of Connor’s, blond hair she wore in an asymmetrical cut at her chin.
Dixie’s style was professional, her dark brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, her expression and manner suggesting she took no shit from nobody.
And the food. Oh-em-gee, the food!
Lyn basted the turkey in what Faith guessed was a bath of butter and heaven. Angels’ tears themselves had to be responsible for the moistest piece of poultry she had ever put on her tongue. The entire table could have been a scene from the Norman Rockwell book she’d kept under her bed. A colorful tablecloth and cloth napkins, fine china and the “good silver” as Dixie kept referring to it as she rounded the table and put down place settings.
Every side dish was as beautifully presented as it was delicious. And there were a lot of them: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole with crunchy onions on top, Nan’s (their grandmother’s) cranberry sauce, and stuffing with loads of sage and thyme, all immaculately plated and, shortly after, efficiently devoured. What wasn’t consumed was packed away in individual containers to be sent home with everyone.
Then there was the matter of the five pies.
Apple, traditional pumpkin, rhubarb, chocolate silk, and even though it didn’t fit the season, tart lemon meringue. Faith soon learned that the lemon pie was for Connor, who preferred it over the others. She had a small slice of the apple and rhubarb, and yes, even the chocolate. Connor fed her a bite of the lemon, which drew curious glances from his sisters. Since the pumpkin wouldn’t fit into her stuffed belly, Lyn promised to send a few slices home with her. Surprisingly, there was enough pumpkin left as everyone else had either skipped dessert (appalling!) or partook in the chocolate silk and lemon meringue.
After dishes Faith was told she wasn’t allowed to do—not by Connor this time but Lyn, wonder where he got that from?—she wandered into the family room where a football game she couldn’t care less about played on the TV, and Dixie’s sons, Drew and Corran played with a toy racetrack Dixie had brought from home. Her husband, Tad, sat watching TV with one eye on his boys.
“You survived. I’m impressed,” he said as she walked in.
She chuckled, bypassing the boys crashing their cars into a set of coasters in a stand they’d pulled from the end table, and sat on the opposite end of the couch with Tad, a glass of wine in hand.
“Well at least they let me drink,” she joked.
He smiled over at her. Tad Finlay was of average height, red hair hinting at an Irish or Scottish heritage (she was afraid to ask which and inadvertently offend him), and he was attractive in a way that was very different from Connor. A lawyer, Tad was less rugged. He and Dixie lived in Pennsylvania and had been married seven years. Drew, their oldest at six, and Corran, their “last” according to Dixie, was four.
“The McClains are incredible.” He lifted an auburn brow at her. “Overwhelming at first, but incredible.”
She let out a breath and realized she’d been anxious most of the evening. “They’re great…”
He lifted his beer can. “But overwhelming.”
She tapped his can with her wineglass, wondering if he was overwhelmed for a similar reason she was. For years, life had been Linda, Skylar, and Faith. Sure, there had been a rotating door of various boyfriends for Mom, and sometimes Skylar, but for the most part their family was small, fairly quiet, and kept to themselves.
After a few hours at the McClain house, Faith determined this was not the case. As evidenced by what happened next.
Dixie blew into the room, a force to be reckoned with like her mother. After a quick check on her redheaded boys, she latched on to Faith and dragged her out of the family room. “Borrowing her,” she announced to Tad.
Tad did not argue. Neither did Faith, hustling out of the room and concentrating on not spilling her wine.
She was led through the house, up the stairs, past the bedrooms, where they met Kendra who was standing in the middle of the hallway, arms stretched overhead. She pulled the string and dropped folding ladder-style stairs leading to the attic.
“Welcome to the McClain sisters’ Thanksgiving tradition.” Kendra smiled, then flicked her eyes over at Dixie. “Even though technically, she is a Finlay.”
Dixie Finlay led the way into the attic, followed by Faith, and last, Kendra. Then Kendra pulled up the attic stairs, which would’ve ensconced them in darkness if Dixie hadn’t been across the room flicking a switch. Twinkle lights strewn around the room lit the space in pale light with long shadows. It was warm up here, with vents blowing heat into the storage area, telling her this was more of a spare room than an attic. From what Faith could see most of what was up here was from when the girls were young—boxes marked BARBIES and KENDRA’S BOOKS among the others.
“We don’t bring all of Connor’s girlfriends up here, you know,” Kendra said.
“Not that we’ve met many,” Dixie chimed in.
Faith wanted to argue she wasn’t his girlfriend, but she remembered him saying the family had assumed as much, and she didn’t want to cause any trouble. “So I’m lucky?”
“Remains to be seen,” Kendra answered, reaching behind her. She came out with the package, but Faith couldn’t tell what it was. Ken tore apart the cardboard in the plastic covering, and held up four V-shaped…somethings.
“Wishbones.” Dixie took one and handed it to Faith. “Synthetic. Our old tradition included the actual wishbone from the turkey. But there is only one, and you have to dry it out overnight or it won’t snap properly. So I found these about ten years ago, and ever since then, we get more than one snap, and this year we are sharing this tradition with you.”
She examined the piece of breakable plastic in her hand. Shaped like a wishbone. Clever.
“Typically,” Kendra said, tossing the package behind her, “you would wish on a wishbone. We don’t do that.”
“No we do not.” Dixie accepted her wishbone. “We play a game we like to call You Wish You Didn’t Have to Tell the Truth. Because after you split the wishbone, the person with the biggest half gets to make the loser tell the truth about whatever topic is on the table.”
Kendra nodded in unity. “You are probably going to want to win. Because you realize our questions are going to be about Connor when we win.”
Faith looked at the wishbone in her hand, trying to think if she had any secrets about him she couldn’t share.
“To be diplomatic, and because you are new here, we are giving you two wishbones. One to snap with each of us. So you actually get an extra chance to demand the truth from us.” Dixie gestured to herself, then to Kendra.
Kendra handed over the last of the fake turkey bones and Faith accepted it with reluctance. She did
n’t want to play this game at all.
“Ken and I will go first,” Dixie stated. Kendra held up her wishbone and Dixie grabbed the other half. They counted to three, and then snapped it in two.
Dixie won. “Perfect.”
“Crap.”
“You know how lucky I am in this game, Ken, you are just going to have to take your medicine.” Dixie smiled a pretty but evil smile that belonged on a Disney villain. This was the side of her that scared Faith a little bit.
“What really happened between you and that guy, Grady?” Dixie asked, eyes narrowing to intimidating slits.
“Can you be more specific?” But Kendra appeared to be stalling, more than she needed Dixie to expound.
“After you dated him for three weeks, and handed over your virginity without a second thought,” Dixie stated plainly, “did you come to your senses and dump him, or did he leave you?”
Ken’s mouth twisted. “You have been saving this question for a lot of years.”
“I am a patient woman.”
And scary, Faith thought again.
Kendra took a deep breath and slid a glance over at Faith. “Sorry you have to hear this.” Then to Dixie she said, “Grady left me. He said I was too inexperienced, and he liked that red-haired girl who was two years older than him. You know, the one who shared our bus stop in elementary school.”
With a gasp, Dixie said, “Britney Fuller?”
“Yup.”
Dixie shook her head. “Obviously, Grady was an idiot. Britney was nasty.”
And with that they moved to the next wishbone. Dixie and Kendra gripped either side of the V. This win went to Kendra. Kendra asked the truth about a math test from the tenth grade that Dixie always claimed she aced. Dixie accused Kendra of also saving up a good question, and admitted she cheated on the test.
“I knew it! If Mom ever found out…” Kendra paused and looked over at Faith. “Oh, we should tell you, Mom will never find out. And Connor will never find out. They know we are up here and might know what we are doing, but they also know what happens in Wishbone Attic stays in Wishbone Attic.”
A Bad Boy for Christmas Page 12
