Bet Faith’s never used an emoji in her life, I think with a wistful sigh as I turn back toward the bakery to see the white truck pulling up in front of the fire station.
A moment later, a blonde in a camouflage jacket and bright orange hunting pants hops out of the passenger’s side.
It’s Faith. And damn, she’s even prettier than I remember—from her turned-up nose, to her big brown eyes, to the silky hair that falls in long, soft waves to the center of her back. But she’s got an edge to her, too.
That edge is what made that dormant, “really interested” part of me sit up and take notice.
That night under the mistletoe, I felt a spark of something more than attraction. I’m curious about Faith in a way I used to be curious about girls I liked before Bridget. I want to know her secret thoughts, her goals, her dreams, and if she loves making out on hiking trails and late-night horror movie binges as much as I do.
Considering that I want a serious relationship like I want a chronic case of foot fungus, those feelings should make me turn tail and head up to my apartment without another glance her way.
Instead, I grin and start down the sidewalk toward her.
“Bye, Buddy. Love you. Thanks for everything,” Faith says in her husky drawl, the one that makes me think of venison stew, old whiskey, and other things I like to savor.
Now, it also transforms my smile to a scowl as I size up the man driving the truck, a guy with hair the same shade as Faith’s and a scraggly goatee.
Is this the competition?
The reason she “doesn’t date” guys from around here?
“Anytime, girl.” Buddy reaches out the window to squeeze her shoulder. “You’re always welcome. Hope we get to see more of you this year.”
“Count on it,” she says, snagging a backpack from the truck bed. “Are you sure you can’t stay a day or two? I know Jake and Jamison would love to see you.”
“Nah, I’ve got to get back. I’ve missed too much work this week already,” he says, easing off the brake. “But tell Aunt Prissy and the boys hi for me.”
“Will do.” Faith waves good-bye to her…cousin?
He seems like a cousin. Or maybe just a good old friend.
Either way, he’s going and I’m right here, a fact that makes me smile as I call out, “Welcome home. How was your trip?”
She turns, her grin falling away. “You.” She shakes her head, her tone inferring that seeing me crossing the street is only slightly less annoying than stepping in bubble gum. Or possibly something grosser. “What are you doing here?”
“I live above the bakery now.” I keep smiling, refusing to take her scowl at face value. She acted irritated with me at the ball, too, but she also kissed me like my mouth held the last gasp of air in a burning building.
Things aren’t always what they seem with Faith, which is part of the reason she’s so damned interesting.
“Great.” She sighs and swings her backpack over one shoulder. “When did that happen?”
“Last week, right after the store opened.” I step onto the sidewalk beside her. “Not long after Jake and Naomi got engaged. A lot of things have changed while you’ve been gone.”
She snorts in a way I find inexplicably sexy. “No surprise there. I knew that was going to happen. My tail tingles when people are about to get hitched, and it was tingling big time for those two.”
I arch a teasing brow. “Your tail?”
“Yes, I have a tail,” she deadpans. “A thick, stubby vestigial tail. Like that blond singer with the money sign in her name, but I kept mine instead of having it amputated.”
“Interesting.” I furrow my brow. “By any chance would you and your tail be interested in a drink later this week?”
“Don’t,” she says in a softer voice. “We talked about this.”
“We did not,” I say, playing dumb. “I don’t remember any talk about your tail. If I had, I would have asked Maddie to knit you a tail warmer instead of the horrible vest she made me for Christmas.”
Her lips quirk.
It’s just the hint of a smile, but enough to give me hope.
“Come on,” I say. “Give me a chance. Let me take you and your tail out to dinner.”
“I don’t have a tail,” she says with a sigh.
I hum low in my throat. “Disappointing, but the offer still stands.”
“I told you, I don’t date,” she says, then adds in a mumble, “especially guys like you.”
“What does that mean?” My brows pinch together. “I don’t know what kind of guy you think I am, Faith, but I’m not the bad kind. I don’t want anything nefarious. I just want to take you out, get to know you, and have some fun together.”