by Diana Palmer
He was better when she was in his arms, but he’d take what he could get. “Then how about we take this roadshow inside and out of the rain?”
She stepped inside, then turned to block his entrance. “Depends. You got a warrant?”
“Do I need one?”
“Answering a question with a question.” She rolled her eyes all the way to the peak of the house. “You’re such a cop.”
“Is this the part of the night where we throw out our role-play fantasies?”
She snorted. “In your dreams. And yes, you need a warrant.”
“What if I don’t want to search for anything? What if I come bearing presents in the form of power?”
Her fathomless eyes met his and she smiled. “You’d still need a warrant.”
“You’re strict, angel. Is that how you earned your wings? Following all the rules?”
“And you’re a sweet talker.” She opened the door and stood back. “You can come in. This once. I’m guessing you need access to my breaker box?”
“Now who’s sweet-talking who?” And with a wink, Noah took off his hat and walked past her into the house, catching a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. The woman smelled like Christmas and looked like heaven, even when she was scowling at him.
With only the faint light of the moon, he could see the house was clean and well cared for, a surprise since the exterior was in some serious need of love. He kicked off his boots, chuckling over her shocked expression at his thoughtfulness, and left them and his hat by the door as he made his way farther into the room, clicking on his flashlight when she closed the door.
“Is your box in your bedroom?” he asked hopefully.
“You wish. It’s in the kitchen.”
He followed her lead, watching the sway of her hips. And tight didn’t even begin to describe those pajama bottoms. With no visible panty lines, he had to wonder if she was wearing a thong, a G-string, or nothing at all. And while he was more of a thong than G-string kind of guy, he was rooting for commando.
“You can stop shining the light on my butt now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Up the beam went, to land on—would you look at that—the breaker box.
“And it isn’t that I don’t know what to do in a blackout. I do. But this is our first year in this house, so I’m not familiar with how things work. And if it wasn’t for the bake sale, I’d have pushed through until the lights came back on.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t want you thinking that I’m one of those women who runs around like a chicken with her head cut off when the lights go out. I know how to flip a breaker. I have a flashlight. Normally this would be no big deal.”
She talked the entire way to the kitchen, only stopping when they reached the panel in the back of the pantry, where she explained everything. She knew about her house’s electrical system—which was pretty impressive.
She was still talking when he handed her the flashlight so he could familiarize himself with the setup. Faith couldn’t stand not being active. Every time he’d seen her, she’d been in constant motion. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when she knocked his shoulder with the flashlight because she was trying to peer around him to see what he was doing. And he didn’t laugh when she placed her hands on his arm for balance as she went up on her toes, only to huff when she couldn’t get a good enough view. In fact, Noah was enjoying her curiosity so much, he didn’t even bother to mention that her house was already set up for a generator and there was no need for him to stand there any longer.
But her front was pressed against his back and he was in no rush to move. Then the beam of light passed over the bags of ingredients on the counter and he reluctantly stepped back.
“So?” she asked, shining the beam directly into his eyes.
“So.” He placed his hand on hers and lowered the light. At the simple contact, acute sexual awareness flowed between them. “Point me in the direction of where the power comes into your house and we should be good to go.”
“You didn’t need to check out my box, did you?”
“I’d never pass up the opportunity to check out your box, angel.” He took the flashlight before she could blind him again. “Now, what direction am I heading?”
Chapter Seven
Ten wet and blustery minutes later, Noah had the generator hooked up and running. It took nine minutes longer than usual because his beautifully independent electrician-in-training insisted on going with him. Not just going with him but taking notes on everything he was doing so she could replicate it in the event of a next time.
Noah almost told her that, night or day, he was simply a swipe on the phone away. But then he took in the crayon drawings and family calendar on the fridge, the handwritten menu on a brightly colored WHAT’S COOKIN’ chalkboard, and his body started feeling twitchy.
Every detail, from the twinkling lights strung throughout the house to the holiday cards neatly lining the fridge, was a conscious choice in creating a safe and warm family environment. From the outside, the house hadn’t seemed like much. But now that the lights were on, he noted how cozy she’d made her little nest. Everything was freshly painted, including the shutters and cabinets. There was a vase of garden-cut flowers on the counter, several well-kept plants on the windowsill, and every surface was covered in some phase of cookies.
The only thing out of place was Noah. Had Cody not guilted him into coming back to Sweet, Noah wouldn’t be here getting to know the most fascinating woman he’d ever encountered. He’d be back in Austin, disappearing for weeks on end into the seedy underbelly of society, tempting danger at every turn.
He’d watched as better men than he tried and failed at the family thing, leaving behind a world of hurt and disappointment. Not that he was thinking that far ahead. But if he did ever want to give the whole white-picket-fence thing a try, it would be with a woman like Faith.
Only she’d had more than her fair share of disappointment, and he didn’t want to be one more guy to add to her list. So when she waltzed back into the kitchen and tossed him a dry towel, he said, “Let me grab my things and I’ll leave you to your gingerbread men.”
“Bears,” she corrected, her face flushed from their adventure in the elements. “They’re ginger bears. And you don’t have to go just yet. I mean, if you don’t want to. It’s still coming down pretty heavy out there.”
Noah wasn’t interested in “out there” as much as he was in what was happening in here. Where Faith was not only asking him to stay but asking him while standing in those ever-so-sculpting pajama bottoms. Then there was the still rain-dampened hair and bare feet adding an adorable sweetness to that sexy coed vibe she had going on. Noah knew that staying would only lead to trouble.
But hot damn, trouble had never been so tempting.
“As long as I’m not in the way.”
“Honestly, I could use the company.” Her gaze fell, as if embarrassed to have asked. “Unless you have somewhere to be?”
He couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be than in this kitchen with the woman who’d consumed his every waking hour. Some of his sleeping ones too, but he didn’t think she’d want to hear about that, so he said, “Why don’t I make something to warm us up while you start on your cookies?”
Noticing the way her limbs sagged with exhaustion, he grabbed two mugs off the drying rack and placed the kettle on the stove. She didn’t seem to mind him rummaging around her kitchen. In fact, his presence seemed to put her at ease.
Head in her cupboard, he asked, “So I assume you don’t want to talk about what upset you tonight.”
“Not ever.”
Finding what he needed, he went to the fridge. “Okay, then, how about we start with the basics? How long have you lived here?”
“Pax and I lived in the top unit of the cute yellow Victorian across the street for about six years and loved it, but it was a one-bedroom.”
Which meant, at some point Faith started sleeping on the couch so
her brother could have the bed.
“Mr. Adams owned this place forever, never married, never had kids, and he loved having Pax around. Used to pay him to help with odd chores around the house. But the winters were hard on his arthritis, so last year he decided to retire to Boca Raton with his brother and sold me this house. Dated furniture included,” she said. “He was a bachelor here for over fifty years, so it’s definitely a fixer-upper, and there’s a lot of fixing up still to be done, but we’re getting there.”
Faith patted the table, old and beautiful with hand-carved legs and an oval top, which he’d bet the ranch she’d refurbished herself.
“What?” she asked. “What’s that look for?”
“I’m impressed is all,” he said honestly. Not only had she managed to buy her own home before turning thirty, but she’d done an incredible amount of work on the place. By herself, from the sound of it, and all while raising her kid brother.
A collage of photos on the far wall caught his attention. There must have been twenty pictures of her and Pax—hiking, at the beach, in front of the Alamo. In every snapshot, the two were smiling or laughing, their love for each other contagious.
Noah enjoyed the idea of her making fun memories with her brother. Seeing her riding in some of the photos, he also liked the idea of her on his horse. He found himself smiling.
“Was this taken at the Crossing?” he asked, and when she didn’t answer, he turned to face her. She was frozen in place, her eyes wide and uncertain. “Faith?”
“Where’s your gun?”
“Left it in the car.”
“I thought you alpha types always carry a gun with you.”
He stepped around the table to stand in front of her. “Not when it makes you uncomfortable.”
“You noticed that?” She rubbed the hem of her sweatshirt between her fingers, her gaze everywhere but on his.
Her unease had been hard to miss. There was a distinct difference between gun-shy and petrified, and he didn’t have to look in some file to guess at the kind of history she must have survived to have that reaction to a loaded weapon.
“I seem to notice everything about you,” he admitted.
The way she always put others first, the way she could look sexy even after standing in a downpour, and the way she fidgeted when she was nervous—like now.
He placed a hand over her fingers and intertwined them with his and, oh holy night was right. One touch was like adding a spark to a brick of C-4. Those lush lips formed the perfect O of surprise, and her eyes were equally round as she looked to him for an explanation.
Yeah, angel. It really is that powerful.
And she really was that nervous. Oh, her eyes didn’t stray far from his, down to his lips and back up, making the rounds every couple seconds, but he could feel the uncertainty rolling off her. She tightened her grip on his fingers and their arms swayed just enough to make him school-boy crazy.
Oh yeah, she was trouble. And he was neck-deep in it.
“What else have you observed?” she asked. “About me?”
“You look at obstacles like challenges, you like to be capable, you’re actually better at electrical stuff than me. And . . .” He glanced at the scene from Santa’s workshop—if Santa employed stuffed penguins—that sat on her windowsill and chuckled. “You have a bigger Christmas problem than drive-by decorating of public trees. It looks like a Christmas bomb exploded in here, but I didn’t see a tree by the fireplace.”
Or stockings. Or presents.
“Pax and I get up early on Christmas Eve and go get a tree, then spend the whole day decorating, wrapping presents, stringing popcorn.”
“That sounds fun.”
A fond smile washed over her face. “Yeah. It’s kind of our tradition now. The first Christmas it was just the two of us and we were broke. I was paying tuition for a school I wasn’t attending and was dealing with the cost of moving.” She waved a dismissive hand as though the details of sacrificing her future for her brother were insignificant. “I’d only started waiting tables and payday was the fifteenth. I didn’t want to buy a tree when I couldn’t afford to put anything under it. No kid wants to stare at an empty tree. So we waited until Christmas Eve, and somehow it all ended up working out. When the next year rolled around, I asked Pax if he wanted to get a tree, and he said he wanted to wait until Christmas Eve. So now it’s our thing.”
She stopped talking. “What?”
“You’re a pretty amazing sister,” he said, loving the shy expression that stole over her face.
“You already said that once.” Her voice was husky, and sexy.
“I guess I did. How about, you love baking.”
“How do you know?” She feigned shock, and he laughed.
“My stellar observation skills,” he joked But it was more than just the army of bears. In her kitchen she moved fluidly, calmly, as if all her worry and second-guessing and what-ifs melted away and Faith could be Faith. “They also tell me that you have a stubborn streak deeper than the Grand Canyon, especially when it comes to your independence.” He looked at her over his shoulder and caught her checking out his backside. “Even more so when it comes to me.”
“Because your I’m a Big Bad Ranger act annoys me.”
“This Big Bad Ranger does something to you, angel.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “But I think you’re confusing your verbs.”
She tossed a raw dough bear at his head and he caught it, then popped it into his mouth. “You also have great aim. Softball?”
She floured her hands and the cookie cutter. “Skee-Ball at the arcade on Coney Island. Grand champ two summers straight.”
“You lived in Coney Island?”
“I lived a bunch of places. Why?”
“Lord help me, you are more suspicious than Matlock when he’s on a case,” he said.
“Not suspicious, cautious,” she said.
“Cautious isn’t a bad thing.”
She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t counteract the way she’d been blushing the entire time he was talking. “How about the crazy lady part? I can’t believe that you’d even want to help me tonight, especially after the way I came at you at the diner.”
“Angel, you can come at me however you want, and I’d still show up on your doorstep with flowers in hand,” he said as if he were the kind of guy to bring flowers. But for her, he might give it a shot. “You were protecting your brother. I can’t fault you for that.”
Noah peeked in the fridge, found what he was looking for. On his way back to the table, he passed by her and whispered, “Besides, you’re cute as all get-out when you’re crazy.”
“Who told you he’s my brother?” Her voice was uncertain.
Noah blinked. “What?”
She gave him a small shove back, which was cute considering he was twice her size and could bench her with one arm tied behind his back. But the hurt-filled expression gutted him.
“Uh, you said, ‘You and your brother,’ when talking about getting a Christmas tree.” He quickly thought back, trying to remember exactly how she’d phrased it. His recall was near-perfect, had to be in order to do his job well. But he was uncharacteristically nervous around her—lucky if he remembered his own name.
“No, I didn’t.” Her face drained of color. “Did you investigate me, Texas Ranger Noah Tucker? Do you have a file in your ‘not-a-patrol car’ listing my family’s criminal history and every mistake I’ve ever made?”
“I did not. And I do not.” And thank Christ for that. He’d been tempted, oh how he’d been tempted, but his instincts had been spot-on when it came to Faith and her privacy. And here Cody had thought himself to be the reigning expert on all things female in Sweet.
She opened her mouth and closed it, looking surprised by his answer. Her arms hugged her middle, a textbook sign of uncertainty. Silently, she studied him for a long, pressure-filled moment. Noah—to his shame—softened the muscles around his eyes and relaxed his body with his palms open by his side
s. All tricks he’d learned at the academy to appear trustworthy and put the other person at ease.
But he didn’t want to interrogate Faith. He just wanted her. Unfiltered and real. So it was his turn to be surprised when instead of screaming, “Get out of my house!” she quietly asked, “Then how did you find out?”
His opinion of her clearly mattered, which meant that his cautious angel was nervous about what was happening between them. And nervous meant interested—at least on some level. She wanted to trust him but didn’t know how. The way she kept averting her gaze told him she was expecting him to let her down, but for now she was open to the idea that maybe he was a stand-up guy.
He had a little over a week to prove her right before he’d be heading back to Austin, so he had to tread carefully.
“Maybe I figured it out myself. Did you ever think of that?” he asked.
“Impossible. Once people create a narrative that fits their expectations, it’s nearly impossible for them to reframe it.”
Impressive.
It had taken him a few years on the force to learn that incredible accurate tidbit. On some level he’d known it his whole life, since he had to fight against public opinion stemming from his father’s legacy.
It took active military service to rescue his reputation, then relocating to a different city when his tour was up—but it had been worth it. From what little he’d learned about Faith’s past, it was a wonder she hadn’t changed her name and moved to Alaska. He’d been dismayed by the fervor of the women at the market the other day.
That she’d chosen to stay in Sweet and put down roots was a testament to how committed she was when it came to her loved ones. Noah wondered how different he and his brothers’ lives would have been, had Silas approached single parenthood with the same selfless devotion as Faith.
“And in this narrative you’ve constructed about me, I’m the kind of cop to abuse my power and spy on innocent women? Can you imagine my dates if I took that approach? The woman swipes right and walks into the bar knowing that I like cats, line dancing, and mixed martial arts. While I show up knowing her last boyfriend is in jail for a DUI, her mom is suing her dad, and she has some sordid past with a local pot dealer named Seth.”
