His girl who liked me.

“We have to save No a piece,” I said quietly and watched Mike’s face get soft.

Seriously, that was the hottest of it all.

“I can lay waste to a DQ cake so if you want No to have a piece, we’ll get a big one,” he murmured.

“Big one it is.”

Mike smiled at me but didn’t let me go.

I smiled back.

Then I thought it, I felt it so I said it.

And I did it by whispering, “I’m falling in love with you, Mike Haines.”

As I spoke, with every word his arms got tighter and tighter and his face, already close, became a breath away.

“Angel, you’re already gone.”

I blinked and asked, “Sorry?”

“I read your diaries. I caught your pass in that hotel room. I listened to your offer to stay. I saw you wave good-bye at the airport and got your call before I’d pulled out of the parking lot. You fell with a kiss. I know, honey, because I was right there with you.”

Oh my God, did he just say that?

Oh my God, did he just say that?

I blinked again but in the nanosecond it took me to do that my eyes had filled with tears.

“What?” I breathed.

“You heard me.”

He just said that.

“Mike –”

His tight arms gave me a squeeze and he whispered, “That seed you’re talkin’ about is planted, Angel. We got some shit we gotta get through but it isn’t about this,” his arms gave me another squeeze, “it isn’t about us. As far as that seed’s concerned all you and me gotta do is tend it and watch it grow.”

I stared into his eyes.

Then I exclaimed loudly, “Damn it, Mike! Why are you always making me cry?”

Then I avoided his face, twisting my neck and curving my back to do a face plant in his bare chest.

A chest, incidentally, that was shaking with laughter.

“I’m not finding avowals of love in the kitchen of the hot guy I fell for when I was twelve amusing, Mike Haines,” I warned his chest in a thick voice and that chest started shaking harder as his humor became vocal.

I reared back and snapped, “Stop laughing when I’m crying!”

He could be bossy and not easy to boss. I knew this when he burst out laughing as his hand in my hair shoved my face in his throat.

I held on and cried while he laughed.

Suddenly, Layla sprang up and barked.

I blinked tears away as Mike’s laughter abruptly stopped and he twisted his torso toward the kitchen door.

Layla was out of the kitchen, in the hall and, by the sound of it, she was barking at the front door.

“Fuck,” Mike muttered then moved away but did it with his head turned to me, arm raised, his finger pointing at the sandwiches. “Eat. Chips in the cupboard. Pop and beer in the fridge. I’ll be back.”

I nodded but he’d already turned away and rounded the cupboards that butted the door.

Then I dashed my hands on my wet cheeks as I popped down to go to the fridge and get a drink.

Then I heard a muttered, clearly irate, “Fuck me,” and I froze.

The door must have opened because Layla quit barking but I could hear her dog tags jingling which meant she was shaking with excitement at having a visitor.

“Oh God, is this a bad time?” a woman asked and for some bizarre reason I scuttled to the side like I was trying to hide when she already couldn’t see me.

“I think we can take it as read any visit from you would be at a bad time, Audrey. What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Mike asked in return and I felt my eyes get wide.

Audrey.

I forgot. When counting down all the shit going down while love bloomed between me and my childhood crush, Audrey was part of that list.

“I thought we could talk,” she replied.

“You think maybe to phone me to schedule this talk rather than showin’ up on a Sunday afternoon out-of-the-blue?” Mike returned and I felt the cold air begin seeping in from the front door so I knew he hadn’t invited her inside.

“Well,” she hesitated, “I did, actually, but I thought you’d blow me off.”

“You thought right,” Mike replied instantly, his deep voice not ugly but it was hard.

“Mike, really, it’s important,” she said soft, cajoling and she had a pretty voice.

Damn.

“It’s important, we’ll meet. Now’s not good. I haven’t had lunch, it’s ready and Dusty’s in the kitchen waitin’ for me to eat it with her. Tomorrow’s not good either. You pick any other day next week, I’ll meet you after work somewhere for coffee. You’ve got half an hour then I gotta get home because I got kids and my woman to feed.”

“Dusty?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Mike answered immediately then equally immediately he prompted, “Which night?”

“She’s here now?”

“Audrey, which night?”

“Is she living here?”

“No and that’s only your business as my children’s mother. Now, tell me, which night?”

“This won’t take long and I won’t –”

“Right, I’m standin’ here in nothin’ but jeans. Not bein’ a dick but, seriously, clue in and tell me which fuckin’ night?”

Oh God. I was thinking Mike’s declarations of not being a dick was a lot like when I said I wasn’t being a bitch because his meaning was clear.

There was silence and this lasted a while.

Finally Mike prompted with clear impatience, “Audrey –”

“Can she hear us?”

“Which night?”

“Why isn’t she coming out?”

Oh God.

“Which night?”

“Is she in your bed?”

Oh God!

“Jesus, fuck, seriously? We doin’ this?”

“You’re on that side, Mike, moving on. You have somebody. I’m on this one. Alone. Give me a break.”

It was then I knew just how done Mike was with Audrey.

And I knew it when he replied, “Yeah, she can hear us. This is because she’s in the kitchen. And she’s not comin’ out probably because she’s wearin’ my tee and pretty much nothin’ else and she’s nice enough to want to save you from seein’ that. So, you asked, you got the visual anyway and that’s on you. Now, which fuckin’ night?”

“Tuesday,” she whispered.

“Terrific,” Mike agreed at once. “Can you make it to Mimi’s by six?”

“Yes, Mike.”

“Right. I’ll see you at Mimi’s at six.”

“Okay.”

There were no farewells exchanged only a confused whimper from Layla who undoubtedly during this intense exchange didn’t get any attention and she wasn’t quite certain what to do with that. I heard the door close then I saw Mike round the cupboard, his dog at his heels.

So, call me a freak and I don’t care, he was pissed, not hiding it, wearing nothing but jeans and it was hot.

I didn’t get a chance to inform him of this fact to, perchance, help him deal with that anger.

And I didn’t get that chance because he lifted a hand, pointed a finger at me and commanded in a severe, rumbling voice, “Don’t take on that shit.”

I was staring at his finger thinking that if any other man pointed a finger in my face, I would likely grab it and twist it while I kicked him in the shin or, alternately, tell him to go fuck himself and stomp away when I replied, “Uh…what?”

He stopped a foot away from me, dropped his hand and mostly repeated himself, “You don’t take on that shit.”

“Mike, honey,” I said in a gentle, soothing voice, “I’m sensing you’re pissed but I’m not following.”

“You got enough on your plate. Whatever Audrey’s up to, that is not your shit. It’s my shit and you don’t take that on. You worry about that farm, the family in it and your pottery. I’ll worry about Audrey.”

“Uh…didn’t we just pretty much share we care deeply for each other not five minutes ago?” I asked cautiously.

“No, we didn’t pretty much do anything and we sure as fuck didn’t pretty much share we care deeply for each other. We told each other we’re in love,” he corrected me and my belly compressed as my heart skipped a beat.

“No,” I contradicted stupidly but correctly, my heart, now racing, messing with my ability to think, “I think it was you telling me we’re in love.”

His brows shot together and that was hot too.

“Do you disagree?” he fired back.

“Uh…no,” I replied.

His brows then shot up and damn, that was hot too.

“Your point?”

Again stupidly but still correctly I shared, “That is, technically, caring deeply for each other.”

He crossed his arms on his chest (yes, also hot) and asked, “You get I’m pissed?”

I nodded.

“So you wanna move this along before this asinine conversation about something not asinine in the slightest makes me more pissed?”

I thought that was a good idea so I decided to do that.

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t have my shit, you take on my shit then also deal with your shit without me having your back too.”

“Dusty –”

I took the step to him, lifted my hand and curled my fingers on his forearm, saying, “Babe, I’m not weak. I’m not addicted to spending money. I’m not anything but Dusty. We have a lot happening and it’s a pain in the ass but I’m not crumbling under the weight. You’ve had a long time of looking after a lot of people, busting your ass to do it. You’ll get used to it but flat out, with me, that’s not your life anymore.”

“Right, I get that, Dusty but what you need to get is that I don’t mind bustin’ my ass for the ones I love. It’s my job and not the kind you do because you have to do it but because you love doin’ it. I mind doin’ it when I get shit on in return but if I don’t get that, it’s entirely different. So I know you’re not weak and you’ll get used to it bein’ with me but you no longer always have to be strong.”