Always Mickie (Cruz Brothers Book 3)

by Melanie Munton

  Oh, be still my heart.

  A date. He was asking me out on a date.

  “Yeah,” I said, the word sounding hoarse, so I tried again. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

  He took a deep breath and slowly smiled. “Good. I’ll pick you up at the house. Is seven okay?”

  My pulse was hammering in my throat. “Seven’s good. Where are we going?”

  His smile stayed in place. “You’ll find out.”

  I bit my lip, controlling my goofy grin. “I was just wondering about the dress code.”

  His eyes traveled down my body, heating as they went. I had no idea what he was seeing. I was in my scrubs, my hair was a mess, and I hardly had any makeup on.

  “Wear something nice,” he replied in a raspy voice. “Not that you ever don’t look nice. But wear something that’s not too…constricting.”

  Interesting. A million dirty images flashed through my mind at that word.

  He certainly had me intrigued.

  “Does that mean we’re doing something after dinner?” I asked curiously.

  His expression gave nothing away. “You’ll find that out, too.”

  My heart was now thumping with excitement. “Okay,” I said, nodding. “I’ll be ready at seven.”

  He slowly walked over to me and pulled his hand out of his pants pocket. When our bodies were inches away, he grasped the back of my neck, his touch light. We were so close, I knew he could hear how my breathing had quickened with his proximity. Hell, he could feel it blow across his neck.

  Our eyes remained locked. His gaze was intense as he searched my eyes before he lowered his focus to my mouth. His tongue snaked out, licking along the seam of his lips. Wow. The urge to kiss him plowed through me like a bulldozer.

  Do it.

  Kiss me.

  He leaned forward, bringing our mouths closer together.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  I closed my eyes, waiting to feel his lips mold to mine.

  His warm breath skated across my skin.

  He kissed my cheek.

  He pressed his firm lips against my flushed cheek—open mouthed—and kept them there for almost five seconds. And in that five seconds, my limbs turned to jelly, my knees went weak, my breath got caught in my throat, and a fire sparked to life in my belly that I wasn’t going to be able to put out anytime soon.

  It had only been a kiss on the cheek, but my body was acting like he’d just ravaged me in the hallway.

  That’s how much I’d been craving his touch.

  He pulled back, and I fought to get myself under control. The glazed look in his eyes indicated that I wasn’t the only one shaken up by the kiss. I was a little relieved at that.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered, his hand still holding my neck.

  “Okay,” I whispered back. “Yeah. Tonight.”

  His face darkened, and he looked like he wanted to say more. But after a few seconds, he let go and walked away, giving me a great view of his ass. Oh, I loved him in a suit.

  Whew.

  So…he was apparently stepping up his game. I guess he’d been listening the other night.

  Hell, yes.

  I couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for us.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dawson

  I was nervous as hell.

  My forehead was sweating, my hands were shaking, my pulse was quickening.

  Either I was going into cardiac arrest, or this whole plan of reinvigorating our relationship was already working for me. Because this was exactly how I’d felt when I first met Mickie. When I saw her dancing by herself to reggae music. And all the days afterward, when I was so anxious for my first glimpse of her stunning face, my whole body trembled with anticipation.

  Like right now.

  As I stood at the front door of our house, waiting for her to come out for our date, as if we were kids again.

  The door swung open, bringing with it the scent of Mickie’s sweet, flowery fragrance I’d always loved.

  And there she was.

  A fucking vision in a pink, flowy dress that showed off her legs and wild hair that fell around her shoulders. Hot damn, I loved those curls. They always smelled like springtime.

  And she had an honest to God, excited-as-hell smile on her face.

  Just for me.

  Christ, I ached for her.

  “Hey,” I said, refusing to fight my own smile.

  “Hi.”

  “Ready to go?”

  Although, now I wasn’t ready to go anywhere. I wanted to shove her back inside the house and fuck her against the door in that dress. Though I wouldn’t complain if she wanted to get totally naked, either.

  It had been far too long since I’d had her in my arms. Naked or otherwise.

  “Yeah,” she said and locked the door. My hand lightly grazed her back as I walked her to the car. “You look nice,” she commented.

  You fucking idiot.

  Why hadn’t those been my first words to her? Man, I had some work to do.

  “Thanks,” I said, opening her door.

  I stopped her before she could get in. She looked at me expectantly. I ran my eyes down the length of her body, making it blatantly obvious I was doing so.

  “You look amazing, Mick.” Her eyes softened, a smile creeping onto her face. “In ten years, you haven’t changed a single bit.”

  When she bit her lip and blushed a little, I wanted to scream in victory.

  “Mason and Sage were okay with babysitting tonight?” she asked as I drove to the restaurant.

  I snorted sarcastically. “Are you kidding? They were so happy to get me out of the apartment, they practically kicked me out the door. Plus, the kids were thrilled. Leo wants to “paint cars with Uncle Mason”, and I think Gabby mentioned something about coloring her hair purple like Sage.”

  Mickie chuckled. “At least she’s not talking about pole dancing anymore.”

  I swerved into the other lane. “What? Pole dancing?”

  She giggled. “Apparently, she heard you and Mason talking one night about Sage taking lessons.”

  I winced. Dammit, Mason. “Sorry about that. She was supposed to be asleep.”

  She waved me off. “It happens. I didn’t tell you, but a few weeks ago I was watching a movie before bed one night, and she must have been creeping around the hallway outside the bedroom. I guess she heard some cuss words because she went to school the next day, and called a boy who’d been pulling her hair an asshole.”

  A laugh burst from me, and I tried to choke it back. I saw her doing the same. Seconds later, we both broke into uncontrolled guffaws. “Well, that’s a new one.”

  “I had a talk with her,” she said. “I think being grounded from playing dress-up was enough to teach her a lesson.”

  Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a new hibachi place close to downtown. She looked over at me in surprise. “What?” I asked.

  “Why’d you choose this place?”

  Shit, was I not supposed to?

  “I thought you’d said a while back you wanted to try it,” I said cautiously. “Have you already eaten here?” And if she had, who the fuck had she gone with?

  She shook her head, as if lost in a trance. “No. Not yet.”

  I nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  When we stepped inside, I gave the hostess my name for the reservation and she showed us to our table. With the crammed dining area, the place definitely seemed to be popular. The smell of grilled foods assaulted my nostrils, but that wasn’t what was making my mouth water. That honor belonged to the gorgeous woman sitting beside me.

  I had no doubt I was the envy of every man in the place.

  “I’ve heard the onion soup here is to die for,” she said as she scoured the menu.

  I didn’t really care much about the soup. I could have just sat there and watched her all night.

  “How is your mom doing in rehab, by the way?” she asked.

  My mood de
flated a little. I didn’t want to talk about something so depressing. “All right, I guess.” I gave the waitress my drink order. “The nurses tell us her health is better, but she still needs to gain more weight.”

  She took a sip of her water, her gaze trained on me. “Is she still not eating much?”

  I gave a curt shake of my head. “I guess not. When I’ve asked her about it, she claims she never has a big appetite, and that food just doesn’t taste very good anymore.”

  Her eyes softened in understanding. “Sounds like she’s lost her motivation.”

  It pissed me off that my throat constricted at the thought of my mother having given up. “One of the nurses told me she thinks she’s depressed. Said they’re going to put her on anti-depressants if nothing changes soon.”

  Mickie’s eyebrows drew together. “You know, it might help seeing some familiar faces. Have you been up to visit her lately?”

  “I’ll probably go up there next weekend.” I needed to be done with this conversation. “Let’s not talk about Mom anymore.”

  Just then our attention shifted to our chef who approached the table with a smile and a bow. He pulled his cart in front of the grill, and started to coat the surface with his cooking oils.

  “Oh, before I forget to tell you, the twins have dentist appointments next Thursday right after school.” She pulled out her phone and started to scroll through her daily schedule. “At least, I think it’s Thursday.”

  I covered her hand with mine, and made her look at me. “Look, I know we have kids, and I love those little monsters as much as you do. But tonight, let’s not talk about family, or dentist appointments, or groundings, or the next school activity. Let’s just be us here. That’s what this is about, after all. Right?”

  With her gaze still focused on me, her face slowly relaxed and she put her phone away. “Right. We’re just us tonight.”

  And we were.

  We talked about what had been going on at work for both of us, things we’d read in the news, interesting people we’d met, new music we’d heard. I wouldn’t say it was a “getting to know each other again” kind of talk. More like a “reminding each other of who we were” conversation. It was so easy to fall back into the comfortable friendship that had always been the foundation of our relationship. We had lost sight of that, apparently.

  A young couple at the other end of our table caught my eye. “Okay, what do you think the story is with those two?” I tipped my chin in their direction.

  They were both young, probably in their early twenties. The guy wore a polo shirt and a shy smile. The girl had long blond hair and kept blushing at things her date said.

  Mickie subtly turned her head and watched the young couple for a few seconds. “Hm, let’s see.” She took a sip of her cocktail. “They met in Biology 101.”

  I grinned. “College students, huh?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. Their eyes met across the room, and they just connected.” Her eyes gleamed as she used her hands to make her points. “But see, she’s the youngest of seven children, and he’s an exchange student from Tasmania. So, they were both too shy to ask the other one out.”

  I laughed and held out my plate to the chef, who gave me a healthy portion of teriyaki chicken. “How’d they wind up here together then?” I asked, amused.

  “Ah, an interesting story.” She held up a finger. “It was dissection day in biology class—”

  “Sounds romantic.”

  She put her hand in my face. “Hush. So, they were dissecting cats and well, Tallulah over there is such a cat lover, she just couldn’t cut the poor thing open.”

  My eyebrow went up. “Tallulah?”

  “Her parents were hippies.”

  “That explains the seven kids,” I deadpanned.

  “And being the child of hippies,” she continued, “Tallulah has become a seasoned activist-slash-protestor.”

  “Oh, no.” My eyes were glued to her, my interest riveted on this fictional story. But more than that, I was just entranced by her. By her expressions, her enthusiasm, her passion.

  She shot me a knowing smile. “Yes. So, Tallulah throws a fit right there in the middle of class, saying it’s cruel to work on animals like this even if they are already dead. Then, she storms out and starts a petition on campus to end all animal dissections. She even starts a picket line outside the biology building.”

  I rested my chin on my hand, falling deeper in love with my wife. If that was even possible. “And where does her date come in?”

  She feigns a dreamy sigh, clutching her chest. “That’s the best part. Shy little Damien can’t stay away from her anymore. He approaches her on the picket line with his own sign and says to her, ‘I did the same thing when they tried to make me cut up frogs in high school.’ And bam,” she snapped her fingers, “just like that. Instant love connection.”

  I threw my head back and burst into laughter.

  I was pretty sure I now had the attention of the entire restaurant, but I didn’t give a shit. I only had eyes and ears for Mickie.

  “That’s the stuff of legendary romances, right there,” I said.

  She looked pleased with herself, and my heart swelled bigger. “I know, right?” She looked back down at the young couple. “Sure hope those two crazy kids make it. They owe it to society and all mankind.”

  I shook my head. “Eat your food, dork. You’re going to need it for where we’re going next.”

  And I’m going to need a hell of a lot more alcohol.

  Her head snapped back to me, and I hid my smile behind my fork. I knew that would get her attention.

  “Where are we going next?”

  I tutted. “It’s a surprise.”

  I could tell she wanted to ask more questions, but she ate the rest of her meal without mentioning it again. I knew she was excited. The vibes coming off her were full of energy. While that pleased me more than I could say, I had to admit I was contemplating being a coward and backing out.

  No, you can’t.

  This will make her happy.

  It had better. Because later, after we’d finished our dinner and I drove to the club, a sense of dread washed over me. Clearly not understanding the significance of our destination, she stared at me, waiting for an explanation as we sat in front of the building.

  I held out my hand to help her from the car, and took a deep breath. “I’m taking you salsa dancing.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mickie

  Had he just said…salsa dancing?

  How many cocktails had I had?

  I looked at Dawson in bewilderment. “But you don’t dance.”

  He took my hand and pulled me in close. “But you do,” he said in a low voice. “And I can’t guarantee you’ll enjoy doing this with me. But I’d at least like to try.”

  My knees almost buckled.

  I wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet.

  I put my hand on his chest. He was as strong and fit as he always had been. “That’s all I’ve ever asked.”

  When we walked inside the club, we were met by pulsing salsa music, colorful strings of lights lighting up the dance floor, and dozens of couples of all ages. I quickly learned there was an area off to the side where beginners learned the steps before making their way to the actual dance floor. I was relieved to see that most of the couples in attendance were seemingly beginners like us.

  Dawson gripped my hand tighter as we found a place on the practice floor. I knew he was probably nervous because he really didn’t dance. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t dance. To be honest, I really didn’t know if he could or not. Because in ten years, I’d never seen him even try to do any form of dancing. He’d slow danced once with me at our wedding, and that was it.

  But despite my eagerness, I didn’t have a flipping clue how to salsa dance, either. So, we were in the same boat.

  The instructor walked onto the floor in a flouncy skirt and a gregarious smile. She introduced herself as Rita
, and bounced around the room, making sure everyone was paired up. She had to be around fifty, but damned if she still didn’t have a ton of energy.

  “Okay,” Rita announced. “First, we’re going to learn the front-back basic and side basic steps, then closed position.”

  Whatever that meant.

  When Dawson’s eyes widened with panic, I gave him a reassuring smile. At least, I hoped it was reassuring. No matter what happened, I wouldn’t let him regret bringing us here. I was already having a blast.

  Music came on over the speakers, and Rita’s partner took her into his arms, demonstrating the correct technique. Dawson and I watched them for a few steps and then looked back at each other. He gave me an Are you sure you want to do this? look. I just stepped into his space, and raised my eyebrow in challenge.

  I mentally patted myself on the back when his jaw set with determination.

  He never could refuse a good challenge.

  After several minutes, we were really getting the hang of it. He was much more coordinated on his feet than he gave himself credit for.

  “You’re not too bad, Detective Cruz,” I said.

  He looked up from watching our feet. He’d apologized profusely for stepping on my foot in the beginning, and had been carefully studying our steps ever since. “Only because I have you as a partner,” he replied. “You make it easy.”

  “Okay, now we’re going to move on to the back basic and cumbia basic step, then open position!” Rita yelled over the music, drawing everyone’s attention to her and her partner.

  Dawson’s horror-stricken eyes once again flew to mine. “There’s more? I thought that was it.”

  I laughed and squeezed his shoulders. “Honey, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more.”

  Not too much, though. Combining all the steps we learned was easy enough once we ran through them a few times. And we only learned basic timing—apparently, there was more than one—which was much easier to apply to different musical selections.

  “You all look fabulous!” Rita cheered, clapping her hands. “Now, get out on that dance floor and salsa your asses off!”

  Dawson didn’t look as enthusiastic. “I’m going to make you look bad,” he said.