Mine to Steal (Mine to Love) (23 page)

“Nah, I’m good. Actually, I’m really hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”

We decide to take my car and find one of those outdoor taco stands because we are both covered in a rainbow of paint. Besides, it’s a nice afternoon, why not relax and get to know her better.

Sunday afternoons in September are still pretty nice, as evidence by the people shopping and walking around. I’m sure we stick out, both of us in white shirts
messed in an array of color. The park has several mobile eateries out today, and the first one we spot is the taco truck.

Faith orders a huge taco
and fills it with so much crap I wonder how she’ll fit all of it into her tiny body. I pay for our meals and grab a couple of drinks before we make our way to one of the many picnic tables strewn all over. Several tables are covered in shade beneath the trees, and others are in the middle of what appears to be a large play outdoor area. Families have taken most of those near the jungle gym and are talking loudly and laughing together as we pass.

She points to a solitary table, away from the crowds and screaming kids. Following behind Faith, I’m struck by the odd situation we find ourselves in.
Again
. She takes a seat, but looks uncomfortable to be sitting with me. I hope she’s trying to find something to say, because she was fine before.

“I don’t make it a habit of eating from mobile taco stands,” she informs me as she unwraps her taco. She’s opens it over the foil and dumps two packets of sauce inside before rolling it back up. I watch with fascination as she methodically tucks the ends before lifting it to her mouth.

“Me either,” I say as I unwrap the taco and take an obscene, messy bite. This might be the best-damned taco I’ve ever had, or it’s been too long since I’ve eaten something that isn’t exactly healthy.

We devour our food in comfortable silence except for the noise of the kids in the distance. My eyes are trained on the mountains in the distance, as if there’s some secret they hold. Or maybe I like looking at them because then I don’t have to focus on her.

“Okay, so I have to say, I feel weird knowing I’m part of some experimental serial blind date thing you have going on,” Faith says through a bite of food. “You know, because there’s clearly something wrong with you.” She laughs.

I join in, laughing at her description of the aforementioned dates and appraisal of me. “Yeah, well, considering you didn’t know about it until I said something, I feel a little weird too. Why are you and Brad together if you have this ‘open’ policy? I mean
, Grayson would have jumped at the chance to get with you.”

“
But that’s it, this thing with Brad works. I don’t know what will happen in the long run but for now, I can honestly tell men that hit on me, ‘I have a boyfriend.’ I’m not lying and being a bitch. Is it the complete truth? No, but it works.”

“But at what expense?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, here you are, out on a blind date. So you are still searching. I guess that means Brad isn’t the one.”

“Do you even know what “the one” is?” She uses air quotes as she asks in exasperation.

“I’ve never had the one. I mean, I’m out with you, so clearly I haven’t found ‘it.’ But I know what it looks like when someone else finds it,” I remark, thinking of Emogen and Ryan. “When you find the one, you don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

“I do
,” I admit easier than I expected. “Not from my own relationships, obviously, but everyone I know who’s found it, they don’t have the need to keep looking.”

She shifts uncomfortably on the bench, but her eyes are locked on me. She opens her mouth to say something but bites her lips and shakes it away. I can’t tear my eyes away from this woman
, and I wish I could get her to tell me what she’s thinking.

“Why are you
staring at me like that?” she finally asks.

“I’m trying to figure you out. One minute you’re giving me the evil eye,
and the next, you kiss me.”

She smirks and turns away from me
. “You caught that, huh?”

“Faith
…” I wait until her attention is on me. “I was there; it’s a little hard to forget.” I’m referring to our night at my place, though I’m sure she’s thinking about the paintball kiss.

“Trey?” There’s so much in the way she says my name, as if she’s going to reveal something to me. But then it fades when she continues, “
Can we change the subject?”

I concede and give her a smile. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Work?”

“Sorry,” I shrug as I lift the taco to my mouth to take another bite. “I’m under strict instruction from my want-to-be love life advisor
- work is off topic.”

“What in the hell are we supposed to talk about then?”

“I have no idea.”

There’s an awkward silence settl
ing in between us as we eat our food. We avoid eye contact, and the entire situation feels more forced than it did when we discovered we were set up. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or do, this isn’t any ordinary date.

She looks over at some kids playing on the swing set and laughs as the older boy pushes the smaller girl who laughs hysterically every time she’s pushed forward.

“So why did your family move away?” The moment the words leave my mouth, I cringe, not knowing where the question came from.

Hell, I didn’t know she moved away until Jett told me, but I know it has to have something to do with Lennox. She closes her eyes, as if it’s one long blink and take
s a deep breath. When her eyes open her smile fades, and she answers with all emotion gone from her features. “My dad got a transfer to Phoenix and we had to pack up and follow.”

“Did you like it there?”

“Not so much. I loved our home, but it was hard to be there after Lennox died. Everywhere I turned there was something that reminded me of him. Sometimes I would go sit in his room and hope he would walk in and get mad at me for being there. It was nothing but sadness all the time.”

Her hands fidget with the taco wrapper
, and she’s twisting the foil into a thin line, creasing the edges before folding it over again. She looks up and laughs, but it’s not a real laugh. “Ya know, it’s hard moving, and even harder moving when you feel like you’re leaving so much behind. And add to it you’re eleven, and it’s the middle of the school year. Starting over is no fun either.”

“Are your folks still there?”

“Well,” she starts, finally giving up on the wrapper and wadding it up to throw away, “Dad is. He remarried a woman I can’t stand. I didn’t bother going to the wedding, not that he would notice anyway. And Mom is living in Providence, as far as she can get from us.”

I’m stunned by her admission
, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to engage or change the subject.

“Since you’re talking so much, why don’t you tell me why you hate the ‘Miller’ boys so much?” I ask
, using air quotes when I say my last name.

“I was wondering when you’d get around to that again
.” She smiles a weak smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I thought you would know by now. I think it’s something you should ask your asshole brother.”

“So you really hate him that much, huh?” I love my brother, but I also know she’s right, which is why I don’t get pissed at her words. “Honestly, I think I’d prefer your version, anyway.”

“Ya know, I don’t really hate him,” she admits easily with a light laugh. “I used to - so much - but I was a kid and who wouldn’t hate him? Like I stated before, I think everyone has one person who tortures them.”

“C’mon,” I goad, “You know you’re dying to tell me what he did.”

“Why live in the past?”

I give her a sardonic
smile. “If you really felt that way, I don’t think you’d be referring to him as my ‘asshole brother,’ do you?”

“Is he not?” Her eyes squint playfully as a smile forms
. “Besides, it’s kinda fun.”

She’s got me there. I laugh and nod my head, agreeing with her assessment. “Can I ask you a question?”

“As long as it’s not about Lennox,” she says, as if reading my mind.

“How old were you when he died?” I have no idea what has possessed me to push forward and ask the question, but she doesn’t seem upset by it, despite her warning not to ask.

“I turned eleven three days after he died.”

“How-”

“No. We’re not going to talk about this.” She shakes her head in a slow somber motion. It’s been at least thirteen years, but I don’t think it’s something you ever get over.

“C
avette.” It’s my olive branch; my attempt at changing the subject for her.

Her glassy eyes meet mine
, and she blinks a few times until the moisture behind them disappears. “You said no work talk.”

“I’ll make an exception.”

“Tomorrow. Yeah?”

“Tomorrow,” I agree. It’s her attempt to keep the
daylight, and I’m inclined to honor that, because despite the other two dates, this one has been quite entertaining.

She throws her head back in a nod and raises a brow. “What time is number four?”

“Number four?” I repeat, but I know she’s talking about the next blind date.

“Yeah, if I’m the third blind date, who is number four.” Her cheeks flush as she admits this was a date
, and it causes me to laugh.

“I’m not worried about number four because I’m actually enjoying number three,” I inform her, looking into her eyes. “Besides, three happens to be my favorite number.”

Where did that come from?

“Mine, too.”

“So how does this ‘open policy’ thing work anyway?”

“He doesn’t ask; I don’t ask.”
She doesn’t elaborate, but I’m interested in learning how that night fits into the whole thing. I figure it’s a fair question since she is technically involved with someone and out with me.

“You know Brad
.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t like to lose.”

“Neither do I.”

“Would you be pissed to find out he’s been seeing someone on the side?” She doesn’t answer immediately, weighing the answer before speaking, but it’s answer enough. “Okay, let me rephrase, would he be pissed to know you’re out on a date? Or rather, you’ve been with someone else?”

“What are you talking about?”

Consequences be damned.

“Faith, I may have been drunk, but I wasn’t
that
drunk and I’m certainly not stupid. Do you really think I don’t remember you or what happened between us that night?”

The look of sheer panic in her eyes is only topped by the anger in them.

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

Well, this is not at all the direction I was headed with the question.

“What? Are you kidding me? Why would I do that?”

“I wonder,” she mocks.

“Get over yourself. I’m not an asshole, and I don’t resort to underhanded means to win what I want.”

“Then why are you bringing this up?”

“I’m just curious why you’ve acted like nothing happened or why you disappeared in the middle of the night.”

“
Isn’t that every man’s dream, a no strings attached one-night stand? It was a nice night, can’t we leave it at that?”

“Nice?
I remember it being a little more than
nice
.”

“Trey, we have to work together -”

“Yeah, and you have - whatever this weird shit that you have with Emerson.”

“Are we going to be able to do this?”

I look at Faith and think about the hell she’s put me through in the short time she’s been in my life. As a competitor, lover
, and now colleague, I’ve been challenged and had more fun with work than I’ve had in a while.

“Yeah
.” I shrug and offer her a smile. “We can do this.”

* * *

I dropped Faith back off at
Fire it Up
and confirmed our plans to meet tomorrow. There was a shift in our partnership, but I’m not sure what any of it means. I admire her dedication to her job, especially her clients, but something about her sticks with me, and it has nothing to do with business. I’ve never cared about how I come across to anyone, and I’ve never changed to meet anyone’s expectations, but I find myself hoping she sees a better side of me.

Me: Details for #4?

Kayla: She can’t make it

Me: I’m done?

Kayla: How was #3?

Me: We need to talk

No sooner do I send the text does my phone ring notifying me of a call from Kayla.

“Romeo?” That’s what I say when I answer the phone.

“Juliet?” she asks timidly.

“What?”

“I thought we were doing some word association thing or something.” She laughs.