“Good news for you.” Dixie gestured at one of Faith’s wishbones. “When you lose and I get the truth out of you.”
Great. Here went nothing.
“One, two, three,” Faith counted and Dixie pulled, and won, her half the bigger one.
She held it up in triumph. “I don’t want sex details about my brother, but I want to know what you two have done. Kiss? Sex? Do you have a casual affair going? Have you talked about marriage? Children? You know, that kind of thing.”
Dixie Finlay did not beat around the bush, as it turned out. Faith shook her head. “That sounds like more than one question to me.”
“Smarter than Maya,” Kendra stated.
Dixie chuckled. “Not a compliment.”
Connor had mentioned Maya, but only briefly. Now Faith’s interest was newly piqued. “Who is this Maya I’ve heard about?”
“What have you heard?” Kendra narrowed her eyes.
“Connor mentioned her, but didn’t say much,” Faith answered.
“He mentioned her?” Dixie exchanged glances with her sister. “That’s impressive.”
“Guess you’ll have to win our break to find out,” Kendra said with a quick lift of her eyebrows.
“But I didn’t get my answer yet,” Dixie interrupted, and Faith got the idea she was never one to be deterred. She tapped her chin. “Hmm. Now to narrow down to one question.”
Faith fiddled with the broken wishbone, half worried Dixie might ask what base Connor had gotten to, or if either of them had done anything below the waist. Hard telling with her. But, Faith could rest in the knowledge that other than a few incredibly hot kisses, she and Connor hadn’t done anything.
Dixie’s eyes popped wide. She’d decided on a question. “Has Connor spent the night at your house and/or have you spent the night at his house?”
Oh no, the one question she had to answer honestly would make them sound like they had done way more together than they had. She bit her lip, deciding how much to say.
“Interestingly enough, he has spent a few nights at my house, and I have spent one night at his.” Faith held up a finger when Dixie’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead. “But we have not had sex.”
“You got a bonus answer anyway,” Kendra pointed out.
“Maybe I should reiterate you have to tell the truth in this place,” Dixie said, gesturing around the dimly lit space. “We do not take kindly to liars around here, Faith Garrett.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “If that is your real name…”
“It’s the truth.” Briefly, she filled in his sisters about how long she and Connor had known each other, about her ex-fiancé trying to break into her apartment, about Connor’s insistence to stay at her house, about her holing up at his apartment for a night while he ran a mysterious Friday errand.
“That sounds like him,” Kendra remarked. “So protective.”
“He likes you,” Dixie stated in the same sure tone she used with everyone—like Connor liking Faith was the simplest, most obvious of truths.
Kendra held up her hand. “My turn.”
Faith counted off and broke the plastic bone, thrilled when she ended up with the bigger half.
“Oh boy, I bet I can guess what’s coming.” Kendra smirked, but didn’t seem the least bit upset by ratting out her brother. “Ask me anything; Connor is an open book.”
Dixie’s cackle suggested this might only be true in Wishbone Attic.
Now for Faith’s question. Did she want to know more about Maya? Or about where Connor disappeared to on Friday nights?
Since he’d promised to tell her about Maya in his own time, she went with, “Where does Connor go on Fridays? I know he has some sort of mission, an appointment he will not miss.”
Dixie went uncharacteristically quiet. Kendra pressed her lips together as if deciding how much to say.
“You have to tell the truth,” Faith reminded gently.
“Easy answer, but not a very easy explanation.” Dixie tipped her chin. “Might want to refill your glass.”
“Oh, I didn’t—” Faith started, but Kendra produced a bottle of red wine from behind her back. She refilled Faith’s glass, and hers, then Dixie’s. Wow. Equip the girl with a Devil Dog and she and the middle McClain could be new best friends.
They sipped in silence for a few moments. Kendra elbowed Dixie and, taking on the challenge of answering Faith, it was Dixie who spoke. “What I am about to tell you has come from two years of infiltrating my brother’s force field. I don’t think it’s any betrayal of trust that I’m telling you; it’s just not something he talks about. And after I tell you you’re going to understand why.”
“If he asks,” Kendra interjected, her brown eyes going wide, “and you expect the relationship with him to go anywhere, you’re going to have to rat us out and tell him that we told you.”
Dixie nodded sagely. “It’s true. He wouldn’t like it if you lied to him and pretended to know less than you do. So it’s best to come clean. Are you still sure you would like to know?”
Oh boy. If that wasn’t the proverbial can of earthworms. But she’d come this far…“Tell me.”
After another quick glance at one another, Kendra nodded and again, Dixie spoke. “I’m better with facts. I’ll unload the facts on you, and then Kendra can hit you with the feelings stuff.”
Hands gripping her wineglass so tightly she feared she might crack it, Faith felt herself lean imperceptibly closer.
Dixie crossed her legs and sipped her wine. “Connor and Jonas were stationed in Afghanistan, in a small village, when an IED meant for the troops went off. Insurgents swarmed the area, but most of them were taken down. Three men in the unit were severely injured; two died in the blast. While the rest of the men were tending to medical care, Connor noticed, hunkered under rubble about to collapse, an Afghan woman with a toddler clinging to her leg. Both were bleeding, both injured.”
Faith felt her stomach turn as she pictured the terrifying scenario. And she could tell Dixie had only paused. The story wasn’t done.
“Before he thought of his own safety,” Kendra chimed in, “Connor ran across the street to pull them out from under the unstable building.”
“That was when Jonas grabbed his arm and pulled him behind their vehicle.” Dixie’s pallor went from pink to gray. “An insurgent was running down the street, machine gun at the ready. When Jonas pulled Connor out of the way, the bad guy shot the woman and her child.”
Faith lifted a fist to her mouth. The scene Dixie painted was not a pretty one. In fact, it was a nightmare.
“He would’ve died.” Kendra toyed with the stem of her wineglass. “Jonas killed the terrorist after he saved our brother’s life. You can guess how Connor feels about this. And why he goes to hang with Jonas every Friday. Connor feels almost responsible for that mother and child losing their lives. He wanted to protect them.”
“He’s been in a similar, first-world situation. Here in the Cove, when he was young and confused,” Dixie put in. “Oddly, it mirrored what happened overseas.”
“Another time he tried to protect a woman and her child,” Kendra said. “But failed.”
Faith knew they meant Maya, and her stomach lurched.
Dixie lifted a dark eyebrow. “But we are out of wishbones, deary. So that’s going to have to be a question for him.”
CHAPTER 12
Connor joined his mother on the piano bench, where she sat strumming the keys. She wasn’t playing anything intentionally, just a soft melody in the background of the melee of the family room. He’d seen Kendra and Dixie disappear with Faith in tow and figured they were upstairs doing their wishbone thing. Every year, they did it. Every year, they extracted secrets from one another.
He wondered what secrets Faith got out of them, if she’d won at all.
Now she was on the floor, playing with his two nephews, a cup of coffee on the table next to her. It was getting late, the boys were tired, Dixie was yawning, and Tad was broodin
g since his team lost. Connor halfheartedly cheered alongside him, but by halftime, they both knew it was over.
Roger was asleep in the recliner, his snoring buried under the melody of his mother’s song.
Connor kissed her on the cheek and stood. “I think we’re going to get out of here. Thanks for having us.”
Abruptly, she stopped playing and stood. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
“Cupcake, you ready to go?”
Kendra snapped a glance from Faith to Connor and chuckled. “Cupcake? Oh, I bet there’s a story behind that one.”
Faith didn’t miss a beat, rising to her feet and saying, “Better luck next year on the wishbone break.”
At her words, he felt a pleasant pressure in the middle of his chest. Faith here next year sounded pretty damn good to him. As she said her round of good-byes and hugged his sisters, and mother, that pressure in his chest increased—and not in a bad way.
He took her hand as Evelyn walked them to the door.
“Pie, sweetheart,” his mother said, large plastic container in hand. “For both of you.” Her eyes flicked from Connor to Faith. “For later.”
“Shopping tonight?” he queried, taking the container. His mother never missed Black Friday for as long as he could remember.
“Yes. Dixie and Ken are dragging me out at one a.m. One!” Her gaze went to Faith as if considering inviting her, then back to Connor. She pressed her lips into a smile. It was a good call. Black Friday was time she reserved with her daughters. Dix and Ken taking Faith up to the attic was one thing, having her interlope on their girls’ day another. Besides, he was looking forward to having Faith to himself.
“G’night, Mom.” Another kiss to her cheek, then he was out the door, calling, “Tell Dad in the morning I said ‘bye.’” Roger would sleep in that recliner through the night. Not for the first time, he considered he was a lot like his old man. Sleeping in a chair.
God.
On the silent drive home, Faith mostly looked out the window. There was no snow, but the night was brutally cold. He guessed she had a good time—didn’t seem to be the kind of girl who’d fake something like that.
In her parking lot, he left his Mustang idling. She’d been surprised to see him show up in the burnished gold vintage automobile, but he explained there was no way he’d cart her around in his work truck for a night out. She was flattered. She should be; he’d meant it that way.
“Want to come up?” she asked, eyes lowering into a slow blink. Sexy, those navy-blue eyes. In a house full of browns and hazels, Faith’s eyes were the most stunning.
“Have to. You have half my pie.” His face split into a wicked grin, making sure she knew he’d meant that in the filthiest way possible.
With a laugh, she reached for the door handle and he stayed her movements with one hand.
“Just once, Faith,” he said in the quiet confines of the car, “let me treat you the way you should be treated.”
Her movements paused and she folded her hands into her lap. He came around, pulling open the Mustang’s door and bracing himself from the wind. She stepped out and shuddered.
They hustled to the stairs, his arm nestled around her back as he led her up to her apartment. At the door, he pulled his key from his pocket and made short work of letting them inside.
Inside, her place was quiet, a small nightlight glowing in the hallway, the alarm silently blinking. He keyed in the code and shut the door, locking it behind him.
Faith slipped out of her coat, making a point to walk to the hallway to hang it before disappearing into the bedroom. In her kitchen, he put the pie on the counter and opened the cabinet to find a bottle of wine.
“Drink?” he called.
“Ugh, I’m too full,” she called back.
“Me too,” he lied. He’d be chowing down the leftovers Mom packed in a grocery sack at three in the morning. He’d left them in the car. Since the temperature was roughly the same as a refrigerator, he figured they were safe out there.
Sighing, he shut the pantry, feeling restless and wondering what he was doing here. It’d been a long time since he’d brought a woman around his family. What possessed him to take Faith was a mixture of things. One, she’d never had Thanksgiving and he was not lying when he told her missing out wasn’t right. It wasn’t. And he knew his family and their tradition of stuffed turkey and Nan’s cranberry sauce, and Dix and Kendra’s harebrained wishbone thing they did in secret would not only give Faith a sample of tradition she longed for, but maybe cure her of ever wanting it again.
“Okay, don’t laugh,” her soft voice floated in from behind him.
He turned around and every thought of his mother, sisters, family, and dinner promptly exited stage left. If there was one thing Faith could take to the bank, it was that he wouldn’t laugh. She wore a strapless, tiny rectangle of clothing that could only be described as a dress. There was a slit high on her right thigh, and those legs kept going and going and going down to a pair of shoes with tall heels being held together by two thin straps apiece.
“Not laughing, Cupcake,” he croaked out of a very dry throat.
She quit wringing her hands and smiled. “I bought it the other day and I was so excited and loved it so much, part of me was dying to wear it to your parents’ house. Luckily for you, I do have some sense of decorum.” Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. “And it is not a warm dress. I just wanted you to know I can look really nice if I want to.”
He didn’t know if it was her dress or the tender lilt of her voice in the quiet confines of her apartment, but she drew him in. Looked like she was making her move. He’d always known he only needed a crack to infiltrate her defenses. And this was way more than a crack.
She’d kicked the damn door open.
He went to her, hands out, and slipped them around her waist. “I think you look beautiful no matter what, Cupcake, but you seriously rock this dress.”
She smiled up at him, proud. He could see her pride in the deep breath lifting her chest. Her hair was curled tonight and spilled down her back, tickling his forearms.
“I managed not to kiss you tonight,” she said.
“Tonight’s not over,” he said, lowering his lips.
Against them, she whispered something he’d never forget. “I want you.”
Simple. To the point. And yeah, he could relate.
Closing his lips over hers, he didn’t let her say more, but let his kiss answer. He tucked her lithe body against his, tilting his hips into hers when she pressed into him. He hardened in a second, doing his level best not to grind his cock into her thigh, and doing a damned fine job of resisting, in his opinion. Her sexy, lean body plastered against his was not an easy thing for any member of his anatomy to resist.
She tugged her head back to smile at him, looking relaxed and happy, and like a woman he wanted in bed. Now.
“That feels like a yes.” She winked at him.
Winked.
Right fucking now.
“Lead the way.”
She did. Taking his hand and drawing him down the hallway, they made the short walk to her bedroom. A lit candle stood on the dresser. Her room was spotless, the bed made, closet door boasting a full-length mirror. He made mental note of where that mirror lined up on the bed and where he’d have to line her up on the bed to see them doing what they were about to do.
Smoothing his hands up her arms and over her bare shoulders, he traced his fingers along the bodice of her dress over the small swells of her breasts. This was the first time, the only time, Faith had ever flinched under his touch.
He tipped his head. “Cupcake. Talk to me.”
“I should warn you…I—there’s not a lot of, um…” She scrunched her eyes closed and said, “My boobs are really small.”
* * *
Oh, Lord. Had she seriously blurted that?
There had to be a better way to tell him that every man’s favorite part of a woman—boobs, obvy—was not her strongest suit.
Connor was still looking at her like she’d lost her mind, and maybe she had. She was bringing baggage to her bedroom, from Michael, the bastard, and much as she didn’t want him in her bedroom, he was there.
Licking her lips, she continued digging a hole. “This dress makes me look like I have more than I do. But I don’t. And the pushup bra I’m wearing isn’t helping matters, either.” She squeezed her eyes shut again. “I mean, it is helping, but…well, I’m just saying there is some false advertising going on about what is beneath the material of this dress.”
She opened her eyes to find Connor subtly shaking his head. Then he grinned, his shallow dimples making a rare appearance. Rather than tell her it was okay and strip her of her clothes anyway, he took her hand and walked her out of her bedroom.
Out. Of the bedroom.
Right about then, her heart dropped to the soles of her very sexy shoes. She told him what to expect, and he took them sleeping together off the table. Guess he was more of a boob man than she’d suspected.
Not that she could fault him. She understood. She did. But it didn’t mean his rejection hurt any less.
In the living room, she stopped following and their arms stretched out between them. “I could use that wine, now.”
He faced her, hand still in hers, looking amused as he paced to where she’d stopped advancing. “Cupcake, I need you to hear me.”
Oh no. This seemed bad. Like, bad bad.
“I’m a guy.”
She couldn’t argue that fact. Every line of his body from broad shoulders to wide chest to sturdy thighs to the sexy way he rocked worn jeans, henleys, and the leather jacket he’d tossed over her kitchen chair said that he was a guy. No, a man. Which made her feel worse. Because yes, she was a girl, but she wasn’t a voluptuous girl, and most men wanted voluptuous.
She’d never achieve voluptuous even if she ate a Devil Dog a day.
“When a guy sees a woman naked, he is rarely evaluating every part of her. Mostly, we’re just fucking stoked to have her naked.”
A Bad Boy for Christmas Page 13
