A Bad Bit Nice (14 page)

Mick pretended to work for a few hours but in reality, all he could think about was the previous evening’s activities. Em had called earlier, apologizing for not being able to come by after what was turning out to be a marathon schedule revision session.

“It’s going to be really late when we get finished, Mick. You shouldn’t wait for me.”

Mick dismissed her protests with a scoff. “Come by whenever you get finished. We’ve got cake to eat, remember?”

Em laughed her tinkling laugh—
man, he
really
liked the sound of that
—and promised him she would.

Suddenly motivated, Mick spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up long-overdue paperwork and working on new arrangements. The afternoon stretched into evening, and then evening into night.

After giving up hope that Em would be by, Mick sat listening to some instrumental Celtic music when he heard a soft knock on his door. He bounded from the couch, but then forced himself to slow down and not appear too eager.

He opened the door to see Em’s back as she made her way to the stairs.

“Em,” was all he said.

She turned her head and a wide smile brightened up Em’s face.
B’y , she’s so pretty
.

Em walked back to where Mick leaned on the door jamb. “I didn’t knock very loud in case you were asleep. I told you it was going to be late.”

Mick grinned and motioned for her to come into the house.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

“Yeah, we ordered in,” Em said. Her brown eyes were tired behind her glasses, and she stifled a yawn. She was exhausted, and tomorrow she was going to do it all over again, but she wasn’t going to miss a chance to see Mick when she was going out of town in a few days.

Mick’s face clouded. “Em, you’re exhausted. I didn’t mean for you to feel obligated to stop by.”

Em waved him off. “I wanted to see you, Mick, even though I saw you this morning.” She turned pink at the mention of the morning, suddenly shy.

Mick closed the distance between them and gathered her into his arms. Em automatically wrapped her hands behind his back and rested her head on his broad chest. She gave him a squeeze.

“You know, I was promised cake,” she said, looking up at him. “I heard the baker was phenomenal.” Mick squeezed her back and gave her a wink.

Mick pulled out a kitchen chair, ignoring Em’s protests that she should cut and serve, and soon returned with two slices of cake and two glasses of milk.

He groaned after he swallowed the first bite of cake. “That baker needs to be arrested. Nothing should taste this good.” Em blushed prettily at his compliments.

She looked at him as he ate, noticing a hint of sadness in his silvery blue eyes. Em reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Has it been a long time since you’ve celebrated your birthday?”

“Yeah, it has,” he said quietly. Em waited for him to continue. “We decided to get married on my birthday because that day was always one of the worst for me when I was growing up. Grace thought that by getting married on that date, it would kind of negate some of the bad stuff.”

“Oh, Mick,” Em breathed. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just squeezed his hand again.

“I was 12 before I ever remember getting a cake or even something other than berated about how I ruined my mother’s life. Rory, being the busy-nose that he is, found out it was my birthday, and he and Grace showed up at the shitty apartment that we lived in. I was completely mortified. Moira wasn’t home, thank God. But they showed up with homemade cupcakes, and I was an asshole. I was so worried that Moira was going to come back and make a scene in front of them that I grabbed the plate and shut the door in their faces. I don’t think I even said thank you.

“I was in the middle of eating the cupcakes in my room when Moira got home. She snatched the half-eaten one out of my hand and threw it away and then threw the rest out. Then she proceeded to beat the shit out of me, but it was completely worth it. I might have been barely able to walk the next day, but someone had taken the time to celebrate the fact that I existed and that was pretty fucking special.”

Em’s fingers fluttered over the inked designs on his arms. Mick grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on her fingers.

“Thank you, Em,” he said. “I mean it.”

Em blinked, desperate not to cry. She patted his hand again and stood up, gathering the plates and glasses. Mick sat at the kitchen table and watched her rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. When she finished tidying up, she sat back down at the table and took his hand again.

“I’ll see you soon?” she asked.

“Yeah, you’ll see me soon,” Mick said with a smile. “Come by whenever you want to or can. I don’t sleep much.” Em nodded, then placed a soft kiss on Mick’s lips and left his apartment.

******

Mick was in the middle of debating whether it would seem pushy and desperate to ask when he could see Em again when Rory called. Mick picked up the phone, somewhat embarrassed about his previous rudeness.

“So do you have something to share with the class?” Rory’s question came out suspiciously benign.

“I’m sorry that I cussed you, Rory.”

Rory was shocked at Mick’s apology. He didn’t think that Mick had ever apologized to him, not once in almost 30 years.

He cleared his throat. “Em said she saw you the other night. I want to know, or then again, maybe I don’t, just how much of you she saw.”

Mick was quiet a moment, trying to gauge exactly how much he should tell his friend. “Um, maybe she saw to third base...I think.”

“How on Earth did you get a girl knocked up twice and still have no idea what base you’re on?” Rory laughed.

“Maybe remember I hit a home run the first time at bat, thanks to that crappy rubber she got from her brother,” Mick said, irritated.

“Ugh okay! I don’t need to know about broken rubbers and my sister. I am getting you some big boy condoms, though, just in case.”

Mick was quiet.

“Oh, you aren’t feeling guilty, are you?” Rory’s voice softened. “It’s been over 20 years. You don’t need to feel guilty. It’s not like you’re going to forget her.”

“I forgot to call
you
that night.”

“Truthfully, I’m kind of glad. That means that you had something else occupying your mind.”

“That’s what worries me. Em deserves to be more than a receptacle for my forgetting.”

“So she
was
a receptacle!”

“God no, she wasn’t! She made me...feel better, though. A whole lot better.”

“I think if you’re worried about using her, then you just guaranteed that you won’t. So, what’s next?”

“I think we need to go on a proper date.”

“Okay, Casanova, I am definitely dropping off some extra-large rubbers after work.”

“I can get my own damn condoms, thank you very much, Rory.”

“Famous last words, Mick, famous last words.”

Thankfully, Rory didn’t come over with a case of condoms, though truthfully, Mick was completely overwhelmed at the choices at the drugstore. Latex, non-latex, lambskin, lubricated, spermicidal, ribbed, reservoir tip —he had total option paralysis until he realized that there were only a few extra-large choices available. He wasn’t taking chances this time. If genetics were a clue, Em was still squarely in baby-making range and lord knows, neither of them was up for that.

Mick heard Em come home and he immediately ran up to her apartment before he lost his nerve.

Mick knocked on the door and waited. Em opened the door and smiled shyly at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Would you like to join me for supper?”

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah, a proper date.”

Her face split into a broad grin. “Why yes, Michael Brennan, I would love to go on a proper date with you.”

“Is tomorrow at 8:30 too soon?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

“Perfect.”

They stood grinning like idiots at each other until Em shooed him away, saying she needed to take care of some things before she had a proper date with her handsome neighbor.

Mick pumped his fist as he went down the stairs.

Mick stared at her, mouth agape. Em shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She cleared her throat. “Um, am I not dressed appropriately?”

“B’y, you’re some nice piece a’ stuff, Em, all dolled up.”

Mick’s eyes raked over Em’s body. She was wearing another of those silky, almost transparent blouses that bared her arms and was deceptively prim along the neckline. Her cherry-red trousers hugged her hips. And those shoes! Sky-high black platform sandals.

He touched the soft bow at the neckline of her blouse. “Is there a name for this?” he asked.

With a wicked grin she answered, “It’s called a pussy bow.”

Oh, you’re in trouble, b’y.

Em continued grinning. “You don’t look too bad yourself. You clean up nicely.”

They walked to the car, Mick’s hand resting on Em’s lower back. As he helped her in the car, her tattooed calf peeked from the bottom of her trouser leg. Mick prayed for self-control as he walked around the Charger.

Em watched Mick on the way to the restaurant. He had gotten his beard trimmed, and his hair cut, too. He wore it brushed back away from his handsome face tonight. His white dress shirt was open at the collar, and the dark coat hugged his broad shoulders and caressed his big arms.

“What? You’re making me kinda nervous, Em.” Mick cleared his throat and cut his eyes quickly over at Em in the passenger seat.

“Your tattoos are very strategically placed. In long sleeves and a collared shirt, you can’t see them at all.”

“You’re very observant.”

Em cocked her head at him. “Usually when someone has two densely inked sleeves of tattoos like you do, they have them on their neck and hands as well, and you don’t. I just find that interesting.”

“Well, I’m an engineer, and they tend to be on the conservative side. I wanted to make sure I could get a job.”

“Hm.” Em was thoughtful.

“What about you? You have that stocking. Not that I really got a chance to examine it the other morning,” he said, his ears turning pink. “What’s the story behind that?”

“I started with a ring around my ankle, a Claddagh. God, my mother freaked out. She was horrified. I loved it and couldn’t wait to get more, but you know, tattoos can be expensive, plus I didn’t want to listen to her bemoan how I was making a spectacle of myself, so I waited. Then my mother passed away, and I thought ‘Screw it,’ and so I added to it over time. The whole stocking took nine years, total. I don’t regret it a bit. The only thing I regret is letting Tripp bully me into not wearing skirts at the office, but that’s a moot point since I’m not working with him anymore.”

They settled back into silence, but Em continued to gaze at Mick with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Did you cut your hair and beard because of what I said?” Em asked. “Be honest with me.”

Mick grabbed Em’s left hand, raising it to his lips. She squeezed his hand in return.

“No, not really. I’ve been contemplating a change for a while,” he answered after a long pause. “You’re scarily perceptive, though.”

She was very nervous. This date seemed monumental for some reason. Maybe because they had already been intimate? Not just the physical intimacy, and Em flushed at the memory of that, but at Mick’s emotional honesty in telling her about his family. She knew that there was more, but she surmised that Mick wasn’t one to share things easily.

She squeezed his fingers again and was rewarded with one of his panty dropping smiles. Em loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned. She could feel herself getting wet and her nipples hardening. She exhaled. This dinner was going to be hard to get through.

She watched him come around the car to open her door for her, his long legs clad in what surely were bespoke trousers. The fit of those pants was just too perfect. He reached into the car to help her out, and they entered the restaurant, holding hands.

*****

The dinner was wonderful, both the food and the conversation. After the emotional intensity of the past few days, the light “getting to know each other” topics were a welcome change. They lingered over dessert, hands clasped on the table. Mick stroked Em’s cheek as he softly kissed her fingers.

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Mick asked.

Em’s lip quirked. “Yes, if you are.”

Mick’s gaze burned through her. He kissed her fingers again, adding a nip to the tips. Em’s breath caught in her chest. Mick looked around impatiently for the waiter.

A figure approached them and Mick got ready to hand his credit card over without even seeing the check. “I’m ready to take care of….” His voice trailed off at the look on Em’s sweet face.

“Hello, Em. I knew you worked with a criminal now, but I didn’t realize you were fucking criminals as well,” came a smarmy voice from behind Mick.

Mick didn’t know who this guy was, but he wanted nothing more than to punch him in his smug face for clouding Em’s expression like that.
Arse
. And what the actual fuck, the comment about fucking a criminal. How crass could you get? How did he know about that crap back in Boston?

And the dig about Rory. Who was this guy? Rory’s record was expunged. While Rory never denied his past, he didn’t necessarily advertise that he’d once been involved with illegal sports betting. There hadn’t been an issue for years.

Tripp didn’t extend his hand. “I’m Edmund Holbrook III,” he said importantly.

Mick rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t care you are, except that you’re interrupting our dinner and upsetting Em. That I
do
care about.”

Seeing Mick’s hand form a fist on the table and his shoulders tense up, Em put her hand on Mick’s arm. “Mick, can we just go?”

Tripp continued smiling smugly and Mick counted backwards from 100 to try to calm down. The air crackled with tension, which increased when Bailey came to the table.

“Tripp, I thought we were leaving….” She caught sight of Em.

“Em! How are you?” Bailey said brightly, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air. “You look so good! I love that blouse.”

Tripp’s eyes swiveled back to Em. “Yes, Em, you sure look fat and happy. Why is it that all the criminal element are attracted to the fat ones?”

Bailey’s jaw dropped. “Tripp Holbrook! I can’t believe you said that. What on Earth has gotten into you?”

“You need to keep your mouth shut about things you don’t know about,” Tripp hissed through clenched teeth.

Mick turned suddenly cold eyes to Tripp. “You don’t talk to her that way,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Actually, you don’t talk to anyone that way, but you especially don’t talk to the woman who’s having your child that way.”

Tripp barked out a laugh. “She’s not your concern, Mick. But I guess that’s what you and that brawler friend of yours do, isn’t it? Stick your nose in other people’s affairs.”

The tables surrounding them got very quiet. The other diners weren’t hiding their interest in the confrontation happening at Mick and Em’s table.

Mick looked at Bailey. “Remember this, sweetheart. When you’ve decided you’ve had enough, call Em and we’ll sort this arse out.”

The restaurant manager walked up to Mick and quietly said something. Mick nodded in agreement. He stood up and went around the table, helping Em with her chair. She stood up and said, “Bailey, it was nice seeing you. Please call me for anything at all.”

“Em, let’s go, love.” Mick’s hand was on her lower back again. It wasn’t the hot pressure of desire any more, but the urgent tension of promised violence. Mick’s jaw was set, his eyes cold.

“Brennan.” Tripp caught Mick’s upper arm. Mick looked down at Tripp’s hand, then back at Tripp, his lip quirking in a small, mean smile.

“I would really think on what you’re going to do next, Holbrook. I have absolutely no qualms about laying you out, right here, right now. The only reasons I’m not are because it would upset Em and I really like the dessert here, so I’d like to be able to dine here again.”

Mick pulled his arm away from Tripp and pushed past him, making sure to bump the other man’s shoulder.

“You talk a good game, but you’re nothing but a pussy, Brennan.”

Mick stopped cold. Em pulled on his hand, but Mick turned to Tripp. He pulled Em to his side and leaned his face into Tripp’s. “You are what you eat.”

Mick and Em drove home in silence. Em could tell that Mick was still furious because both of his hands gripped hard on the steering wheel. Once home, Mick sat in the driver’s seat, eerily still, his only movement the clenching and unclenching of his jaw.

“Mick, calm down, please.”

Mick sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. He closed his eyes and said, “I’m sorry I ruined supper.”

Em frowned. “You didn’t ruin dinner. That assclown Tripp ruined dinner.”

Mick chuckled. “‘Assclown’ is a good descriptor, isn’t it?”

“Did you know him, Mick, before he introduced himself?”

“No, but he obviously knows me and Rory, Em. I figured out pretty quick that he was your ex, though. There’s…stuff…in our past that’s not relevant in any way to our lives now. But it’s Rory’s story, and it’s not my place to tell it. You’ll have to ask him.”

“And what about you, Mick?”

Mick exhaled noisily. “As I said, it’s not relevant to our lives now. I’ll tell you...sometime. Not tonight.” Mick’s eyes grew tired and sad.

Em nodded. Mick reached for her across the car to put both hands on the either side of her face. He softly kissed her forehead, her cheek, and then her mouth. While he stroked her hair, Mick looked deeply into her eyes. Em kissed his palm.

“So should we go in or do you want to sit in the car all night?” she asked, leaning her cheek into his big hand.

“We can go in.”

Mick walked Em to her upstairs apartment. She turned to look at him when she got to her front door. “Well, this is not exactly how I expected our night to end,” she admitted.

“Me neither, but I think it needs to end here, at least for right now.” Mick breathed in deeply through his nose. “Look Em, I don’t know what’s really going on. I know that I really like you. A lot. But I don’t know if I’m ever going to be ready for anything. So….”

“Oh my God, Mick. You’re giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech after one blow job and a semi-unsuccessful dinner date? Jesus Christ, man. And after that little scene at the restaurant? You two were practically swinging your dicks at each other. You’re not two drunken college idiots with something to prove.” She sounded disgusted. “I know you don’t think you know what you want, but I think you do, and it terrifies you. Come get me when you get your head straight. You know where I am.”

She turned around and went through the door of her apartment, making sure that he heard the deadbolt engage.

Em stormed into her bedroom, tearing off her clothes as she went. She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. She knew she looked damn good tonight. Damn good. She’d even put up with the ridiculous, tiny underwear that Ashley convinced her to buy. Why was it that the smaller the panties, the more expensive—and more uncomfortable—they were?

Ugh. Men.

Em’s phone rang. “Ashley, what do you want?” she answered irritably.

“Uh, Em, you aren’t supposed to be home. Or if you
were
home, you’re not supposed to be answering your phone. I was just calling to remind you to that you owed me scoop. But things obviously went awry, so let’s talk.”

Em burst into angry tears. “I don’t know what happened, Ash. We were having dessert, we were flirting, and then Tripp showed up. He called Rory and Mick criminals and essentially called me a fat slut. And Bailey was there, looking really cute and pregnant and happy.” Em hiccupped. “Though she did defend me and called Tripp rude.”

“What was Mick doing during all this, Em? Didn’t he say anything?”

“He didn’t say much, but Ashley, it was scary. Like the eye of the storm scary. He got so still, like he wasn’t even breathing. His eyes got so cold and hard. I never want to be the recipient of that look.” Em shuddered. “He
did
put Tripp in his place, though.”

“Em, you wouldn’t be so upset if that was all that happened,” Ashley prodded gently.

“No, after we got home, Mick gave me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech and I kind of flipped out and slammed the door in his face. He didn’t even get to see the magic panties, much less tear them off.”

“Oh, Em, honey. I’m so sorry. He seemed like a really good guy, too.”

“He
is
a really good guy, Ashley. He’s had an emotional couple of days. Oh, just stop,” Em said when Ashley tried to interrupt. “I’m not making excuses. Well, I am, but how would you feel if it was your 45th birthday AND your wedding anniversary AND the anniversary of the day that your pregnant wife and two children were killed in a car accident?”

“Wait, what? That was all today?”

“No, not all today, but yeah, October 18th is pretty emotionally loaded for Mick. I think part of his reaction to Tripp was because of the emotional shitstorm of these past few days.”