Smittened (5 page)

Nice distraction, he had to admit. But now that he had new clothes and had logged into his cloud account and verified his computer had backed up before becoming toast last night, it was time to take care of the more important stuff.

He hunkered into his coat, his fingers aching from the cold, but instead of jumping into the rental truck he’d picked up this morning, he walked around the corner onto the main downtown thoroughfare, eating his ice cream.

The Aisle, locals called it. Lined with bridal boutiques, jewelers, florists, bakeries, and other specialty shops—anything a couple could need to plan a wedding.

Made Mikey shrink in certain important appendages. Wouldn’t go near The Aisle if he weren’t wanting word from Will, whose phone was rolling straight to a message that his voicemail was full. Before calling the big guns—Will’s management team—Mikey decided to check in with a few locals who might know where he was.

He braved a bakery filled with wedding cakes and one of those bridal boutiques full of white fluffy dresses and brides-to-be, but he struck out on finding word of his buddy.

Either Will had left Mikey stranded in a freezing cold place that had a massive wedding cake monument guarding one end of its downtown, or this little town’s gossip express didn’t run on the same tracks that Pickleberry Springs’ grapevine did. Back home, everyone and their grandmother not only would’ve known where Will was, they would’ve worked out a complicated plan to fool any outsiders looking to guess.

On his way back toward his truck, his phone rang.

Even though he should’ve felt some fear at the picture that popped up on the screen, he smiled, then swiped the phone to answer. “Morning, Mari Belle.”

He strolled back down The Aisle, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he savored more of Dahlia’s ice cream.

“Will still isn’t answering my calls,” Mari Belle said, her voice hushed like she didn’t want to be overheard. At the office, Mikey guessed. She insisted on providing for herself, despite what Will offered to do for her, and didn’t like to talk about who she was related to in public places. “Probably my own fault,” she continued. “Paisley heard me practicing my come-to-Jesus talk when I saw that picture of him and you-know-who last weekend, and I think she tipped him off.”

Mikey’s private smile went up a half-notch. Sounded like something Mari Belle’s ten-year-old daughter would do. Girl picked Uncle Will over her momma every time. “Have to be more careful, MB.”

“Oh, shove it, Mikey,” she said good-naturedly. “Is he okay today?”

Mikey passed two women on the street. He caught them eyeing him and gave them a wink and the famous Mikey smile. The older one fanned herself. “Couldn’t rightly say,” he said to Mari Belle.

One of Mari Belle’s legendary sighs wafted through the phone and practically created its own breeze right there in Bliss, eight hundred miles away. “You know where he is?”

“Nope.” Not for sure, anyway. Had a hunch. Didn’t like it. Wasn’t about to invoke the wrath of Mari Belle—beautiful as the show may be—by mentioning the possibility either. Mikey glanced back at the women he’d passed, but they’d stepped off the street. “It was my fault the fire started.” Fire chief had confirmed it a little bit ago. “I left a space heater on.”

“Well, neither of you got hurt, and that really
is
the most important thing,” she said. “He’ll get over—oh, mother stuffer. Where’s her house?”

Mikey didn’t answer.

Partly because while he knew who
her
was—the only girl Will had never gotten over, despite what she’d done to him, and the woman Mari Belle had asked Mikey to protect Will from—and partly because he didn’t know her address.

Yet.

“He’s there,” Mari Belle said. “You find out where she lives, and you go talk some sense into his thick skull, or I’m gonna march right on up there and give him a what for until his ears bleed.”

Mikey cleared his throat. “Might could be this one needs a softer touch.”

And there went another Mari Belle sigh. Mikey smiled again despite himself. Girl could have a whole conversation with just them sighs. One of the things he’d always loved about her.

Possibly Mikey was as big of a dummy about girls as Will was.

Difference was, Mari Belle had always been family, whereas Will’s girl had torn him up and spit him out in a week, and the effects had lasted a lifetime.

Mikey eyed the last bite of ice cream.

Might be the kind of ice cream worth getting torn up over.

Which was near about the craziest thing Mikey had ever thought.

“Still like to see you up here,” Mikey said to Mari Belle. “Might could go light on giving him the what for though.”

“He needs to get himself back on home.”

“Sure enough, but he ain’t going to.” Three women his age stepped out of another shop. Mikey grinned and nodded at them, and the shorter one and the blonde smiled back. The brunette tripped on a flower box.

“All okay, ma’am?” Mikey said, holding a hand out to the brunette.

“I’m good,” she stammered.

Mari Belle’s chuckle echoed in his ear. “You don’t ever quit flirting, do you?”

“Living the dream, MB.” Since he’d never had much hope of having her, he’d had everyone else. “Y’all be careful now,” he said to the trio. “Hear tell the sidewalks are slippery in winter.”

He treated them to another Mikey smile and a wink, and kept on walking.

“Good ol’ dependable Mikey,” Mari Belle said. “You call me the minute you find him, you hear?”

“I got this.” He winced. “No more space heaters, but I got this.”

He turned the corner, and caught sight of The Milked Duck sign hanging off a wrought iron bracket over the ice cream shop’s door.

That Dahlia—she was a whole other kind of crazy. Intrigued him more than a normal amount, that was for sure.

“I’m pricing plane tickets,” Mari Belle said. “I don’t think I can swing this weekend, but next is looking good.”

Mikey’s heart kicked into its normal seeing-Mari-Belle rhythm. “Give a holler if you want a ride from the airport or anything else.”

“I’m a big girl, Mikey. I’ve got this.”

Yep. Stubborn and independent. That was Mari Belle. Stubborn, independent, and overprotective of her brother, her daughter, and her aunt.

Overprotective of everyone but Mikey. “Yes, ma’am.”

They hung up as Mikey reached The Milked Duck. He glanced inside. A small group of women sat at one of the cutesy tables now, knitting and eating ice cream. Dahlia was nowhere in sight. Must’ve been doing her secret things in the kitchen.

He had half a mind to go back in for more ice cream and poke and prod her, but he got the feeling she needed saving more than she needed teasing.

Saving had never been Mikey’s strong suit.

So instead, he climbed into his truck, fired it up, and waited for the heater to kick in while he pulled up the Internet on his phone.

Chapter Four

DAHLIA GOT home after closing the shop shortly before five. A black truck was parked in front of her house. After glancing at the charred remains of the house across the street, all she wanted was to change into pajama pants and curl up with her kitties. But inside, she found a one-man band set up in her living room.

Mikey was in the lone chair in the room, chopsticks tucked behind his ear, two five-gallon buckets upside down on the floor beside her upside-down stockpot, which was propped up on a box. Two metal pan lids teetered on the edge of another box. A pretty acoustic guitar lay in an open case on the floor.

He looked up from the paper he was scribbling on and offered her a lopsided grin. “Hey, sweet pea. You bring me anything special?”

The lopsided bit wasn’t odd, but there was something forced about it. “Got a fresh bag of cat food outside.” Cat food that she’d bought with the twenty he’d left to pay for his ice cream.

He pushed his makeshift drum set aside and rose with a stretch. “Words every man dreams of hearing. Make my night if you say you got catnip too.”

She tried not to giggle. She tried hard.

But she couldn’t help herself. “Extra strength,” she said.

This time, his grin came out bigger, less forced. “Woman of my dreams.”

“
In
your dreams,” she said.

“Sit on down.” He pushed the buckets and boxes aside. “Look like you walked all over yourself without stopping to ask for directions all day long.”

“Thank you?”

He took her arm and steered her into the seat, where Parrot promptly appeared out of nowhere to leap onto her lap. Dean slunk in from the kitchen to throw himself at her feet, and Sam yowled from the bedroom.

She smiled.

Home
.

“You like pizza?” he said. “I hear tell there’s a great place around the corner that delivers.”

He was being entirely too agreeable. “What do you want?” she said slowly.

If he was insulted, he didn’t show it. Instead, he treated her to one of those smiles that could’ve evaporated her Chocolate Orgasm ice cream on sight. “Some quality time with a pretty lady.”

“All out here.” She tried to stifle a yawn and failed. “Might try the next block down. One of the local caterers has twin daughters who recently graduated college.”

He didn’t even look at the door.

This was getting odd. And not at all comforting.

“You like pepperoni? How do you feel about mushrooms?”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

Didn’t blink at that either. Instead, he pulled his phone out and thumbed over the screen. “Tomatoes? Peppers? Eggplant?”

“Garlic and onion,” she said.

Just in case this was supposed to be a
date
.

He grinned over the top of his phone at her. “Two of my favorite foods.”

Yep. She would have to kick him out. Because this whole homeless-but-sweet-and-shameless-and-in-need-of-a-woman-to-save-him thing was hitting
way
too close to what she usually went for in a guy.

“I am
so
not kissing you tonight,” she informed him.

He chuckled softly. And if she thought his smile was dangerous, his chuckle should’ve been classified as a biological weapon. Sin in a sound wave.

“But now you’re thinking about what it would be like, ain’t you?” he said.

“Only my stupid parts.”

“Don’t you worry, sweet pea. I got other plans for our mouths tonight.”

Images of his mouth on her hand, on her shoulder, on her breast came to mind. Then lower, on her—Dahlia bolted out of her seat, scattering the cats. “Not hungry,” she said. “Tired. Bed time.
Sleep
time. Alone. Sleep alone time. Stay out of my freezer. G’night.”

“Was talkin’ about talking,” he said, but there was nothing innocent about his feigned innocence.

She crossed her arms. “Did you see Billy today?”

He winced. It was a quick thing—there and gone, replaced with a semi-bored tilt of his brow, but she knew she’d hit a nerve.

She swallowed the instant apology bubbling up. No, it
wasn’t
her business, but if he could push buttons, she could push right back.

“He’s still sorting through that personal stuff,” Mikey said slowly.

Dahlia hadn’t realized her shoulders had lifted, but they sagged in disappointment. She knew code for
He’s not interested in being seen in public
when she heard it.

She thought so, anyway. It wasn’t often she was actually one degree away from a megastar. She sucked in a breath, licked her lips, and pushed ahead anyway. Because—well, because why the heck not? What did she have to lose? “Do you think he’d want to come to my tasting event?” she said, sounding every bit the pathetic loser she felt like.

Like a user. Somebody who only cared who these people were because of what they could do for her.

“Might,” Mikey said. As if she wasn’t asking a
huge
favor of someone she had no right to ask anything of. His mouth hitched up again. “Specially if he gets a sample.”

This was entirely too easy. “Is that your way of asking for a three-way?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sweet pea, when I do a three-way, it ain’t ever with Billy.”

“Oh.” Heat flamed in her cheeks. “Right. My bad. I can’t even pick a single man at a time. Obviously.”

Mikey squeezed her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to share you with anyone anyway,” he said softly.

Her heart went warm enough to melt an iceberg. “Don’t say things like that to me,” she whispered.

So long as he wore his womanizer side, she could resist him. But when he acted like he knew how to use his heart—she was in trouble.

His hand dropped away, and he cleared his throat. “So half veggie, half pepperoni. I’ll pick it up. Quicker than waiting.” In a wink, he’d flung his coat on and was heading out the door. “Back in a few,” he called.

And she wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a reassurance or a warning.

MIKEY DIDN’T do sleeping women.

And he meant
do
in all senses of the word. Didn’t touch them, didn’t watch them, didn’t wake them.