She’d well and truly fallen for the man.
Fallen in love with him.
And she’d splinter into a million broken pieces if he didn’t feel the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DAYS TURNED TO weeks, fall transitioned to winter, and before Mickie knew it, two months had breezed by. Two months of evenings spent eating and laughing with the Benson crew, sweaty nights of Keith in her bed or her in his, and mornings spent waking up next to the man she’d fallen head over heels for.
Keith was still holding back. Sure, he was affectionate, fun, and attentive and curled her toes in bed, but he cleverly redirected any discussion of the future, feelings, or their relationship in general. Mickie worked to keep from getting frustrated, at least in front of Keith. Ralph, on the other hand, got an earful during their weekly FaceTime dates. The poor guy was probably going to block her number if things continued.
Nothing ever came of Chuck’s comment in the parking lot of the diner. After a few weeks, she’d begun to relax again. While she hated the man on Keith’s behalf and avoided running into him at all costs, she decided his comment about her looking like Scarlett was merely that. A throwaway comment made by an idiot.
Along with the bliss of a new relationship and new friendships, Mickie had made great strides on filling up the non-Benson hours of her day. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true as Jagger was the main reason her days were now busy as well. He’d shown her kitchen and bathroom remodel photos to some of his customers, and they’d raved not only over his craftsmanship but her decorating style as well. He’d been only too happy to point any interested parties in her direction, and before she knew it, she’d been hired on to style three homes. Not having any formal training as a designer, Mickie spent countless hours researching design philosophies, techniques, and working toward an online certification.
She was in the process of signing up for a class on creating functional spaces when a knock on her door nearly had her computer slipping off her lap. She’d been so in the zone the noise jolted her as though it’d been an explosion.
“Coming!” she yelled as she set the laptop aside and rose to her feet. Glasses on, hair in a half ponytail, and wearing sweats, she wasn’t quite company-ready, but more than likely, it was just a delivery driver with her most recent purchase of design books. “Hey—oh, Ronnie! Hi.”
“Hey, Mickie,” Ronnie said. She stood huddled in on herself, clutching a thick binder to her heavy coat. A bright blue wool hat sat askew on her head.
For the first time since Mickie met her, Ronnie didn’t make eye contact. Her gaze darted everywhere but never landed on Mickie, and she projected an air of insecurity Mickie wouldn’t have thought possible for her outgoing friend.
“Come in, come in. It’s freezing,” she said, waving Ronnie in. “I’ve got a fire going. Feel free to dump your coat anywhere and come sit to warm up. Want some coffee or anything? I need a refresh anyway.”
“Uh, sure.” Ronnie stood on the small rug in the foyer, still clutching the binder tight to her chest.
“Okay, I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home, which you better already know to do.” She smiled at her friend and jetted into the kitchen for the coffee and to provide Ronnie with a minute to settle her nerves.
As she puttered around preparing the coffee the way she’d learned Ronnie liked it, Mickie tried to sort through reasons her friend would be nervous or uncomfortable.
Boyfriend trouble? Maybe, but as far as she knew, Ronnie wasn’t seeing anyone.
Job trouble? Nah, the sports bar couldn’t function without her.
Family problem? Again, she rejected the idea as she’d seen Keith and Jagger not an hour before, and everything was status quo.
That left the one thing Mickie was afraid, no terrified, to think about. Someone outside the Benson family knew who she was. It was bound to happen eventually. Never had she thought Scarlett would be able to remain hidden for the rest of her life, but even though she’d tried to prepare herself for this moment over the past few months, the thought of losing her anonymity still sent panic skittering across her nerve endings.
Now nervous as fuck, Mickie returned to the den to find Ronnie curled up on the couch near the roaring fire. The binder she’d brought sat on her lap, and she stared off into space, lost in thought. “Here you go,” Mickie said in a soft voice so she wouldn’t startle her friend.
“Thanks.”
She sat next to Ronnie. “Okay, girl, you’re freaking me out a little, so just tell me what’s up, and we can deal with it.” Then before poor Ronnie had a chance to speak, she continued, “Someone knows who I am, right? That’s what it is? Someone took a picture of me, and they’re going to post it? Or somebody talked to the media?” The idea had her gut roiling. She pressed a fist to her stomach. “I’m not ready for this yet.”