Mick Donovan learned at a young age never to let anyone close because those you love never stay. Keeping people at arms-length has never been hard for him---until he meets Olivia Dalton. Mick is caught up in a case she’s prosecuting, and he can’t deny his attraction to her, but when she uncovers the past he’s kept carefully hidden, he’s sure she’ll turn away. Yet, even with all his secrets in the open, Olivia reaches out. Can he let his guard down long enough to let her in and take a chance on love?
Sometimes helping
out a friend didn’t give the warm fuzzy feelings everyone talked about.
Mick Donovan stood
behind the new waitress from Rosie’s restaurant, holding her hair back while
she vomited on a bush out back. It was late, and Mick could only see shadows
cast from the weak flickers of a lone streetlight. If they’d been out front,
there would have been plenty of light from the lampposts strategically placed
on Lincoln’s Main Street, but there would also be a crowd of witnesses waiting
to be seated for dinner.
After a few
seconds of silence, when the worst of it was over, he quietly asked, “You okay?
Your name’s Adrienne, right?”
She straightened
and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Peering up at him, she blinked a
few times, as if he weren’t in focus. “Yeah. Thanks.” Giving him a drunken
smile, she took a step and wobbled. Mick grabbed her elbow to steady her. She
held on tight, as if he were a lifeline, her nails digging into his arm. “I
don’t think I caught your name.”
“Mick Donovan. I’m
friends with Taunya, remember?” He guided her toward his car, hoping she’d
emptied her stomach enough that he wouldn’t have to clean his seats later. “She
asked me to take you home.”
“I shouldn’t have
come into work, but I was so hungry. I just needed a little pick me up.” She
looked up at him owlishly. Her mascara had run, leaving black smudges on her
cheeks, giving her the appearance of a child who’d been in her mother’s makeup.
“You understand that, right? I mean, Tim can’t fire me for asking for food, can
he?”
Tim was the
manager of Rosie’s, the only non-fast food restaurant in Lincoln, and he ran a
tight ship with his staff. She very well could get fired, but Mick didn’t want
to mention that to her right now. “That’s why Taunya asked me to take you home.
So Tim didn’t see you.” He held up the paper bag in his hand. “She even sent
you with some takeout. For later. When you feel better.”
“Taunya’s the
best,” Adrienne said, glancing back at the employee entrance. Mick silently
agreed. She was the kind of person anyone would be lucky to know.
He’d met Taunya at
the diner six months ago and he’d started to come in when he knew she’d be
waitressing. She had a great smile to go along with her long legs and sunshine-blonde
hair. But after they’d gone out a few times, he did what he always had and
broke it off. She was looking to settle down and have a family, but Mick knew
he would never be that guy, so he’d backed away.
They’d remained
friends, though, and he was glad about that. A man couldn’t have too many
friends, especially ones with good hearts― except when that good-hearted person
involved him with someone throwing up. He’d never had a particularly strong
stomach, and with fresh vomit on his shoes, he was starting to feel nauseated.
Hopefully he wouldn’t regret being a good friend and doing Taunya a favor
tonight.
“I’m going to put
you in my car. Tell me if you feel sick so I can pull over, okay?” He helped
her in and sighed as he shut the door to his Mustang. Luckily, they didn’t have
far to go to get to her apartment building.
Mick went around
to the other side of the car and got in, immediately cracking all the windows
so he could breathe in some of the crisp October air. Adrienne’s eyes were
closed, and her head was against the window. “You good?” he asked, wanting to
double-check the state of her stomach.
She nodded
briefly, as if it was too much effort to do more than that. “Just need to go
home.”
Mick started the
car and the engine purred to life. “If
I didn’t know the Lincoln police had a speed trap on the street that goes up to
your house, I’d get you there in two minutes flat.”
“This is a
Mustang, isn’t it?” She opened one eye and looked at him. “Zero to sixty in
seven seconds.”
Mick gave a low
chuckle. He’d worked hard to get his Mustang and was proud of it. “Yeah. Which
doesn’t do me much good in Lincoln. But get me out on the salt flats, and I can
practically fly in this baby.” He patted the dash, feeling the purr of the
engine under his fingers. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home in no time, though.”
He pulled out onto
the street and headed toward the row of duplexes on the south side of town.
Lincoln wasn’t big, and Adrienne lived with a few other waitresses at Blue
Gables Townhomes. Each duplex had a bright blue roof, so while it was a bit on
the ugly side, at least it was easy to find.
When he pulled up
outside the duplex at the end of the street, a soft snore came out of
Adrienne’s mouth, and he realized she was sleeping. Better than throwing up.
“Hey.” He lightly
touched her shoulder, noticing how threadbare her t-shirt was. “You’re home.”
She lifted her
head and blinked a few times, looking around to get her bearings. “What?”
“You’re home.” He
smiled, and she moved away from him, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to
remember who he was. “I’m Taunya’s friend, Mick. She was worried Tim would see
you at the restaurant when you weren’t . . . at your best.” Drunk and
disorderly was more like it. Taunya had escorted her out of the kitchen while
Adrienne had still been demanding two steaks and some shrimp.
She stared at him,
then rubbed her temples. “I wash-sh hungry.”
“How much did you
have to drink?” Her speech sounded slurred more than sleepy.
“What are you, my
mother?” Adrienne straightened and glared at him, fumbling for the door handle.
“I’m fine. I just need to get to bed.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t
going to argue with her. He opened his door and quickly came around to help her
out.
She stumbled a bit
and grabbed his arm, but as soon as she was steady, backed away. “Thanks for
bringing me home,” she said grudgingly, looking up at the ugly blue roof, as if
to make sure she really was home.
Mick cupped her
elbow, not willing to leave her on the sidewalk when it looked like she was
having a hard time taking a few steps. “Taunya wouldn’t forgive me if I left
you out here. Let me be a gentleman and take you to the door.”
“Ooh, a
gentleman.” Her expression changed from an angry pout to a grin. She leaned in.
“I haven’t had a gentleman around in a while. Tell me the truth, do you think
I’m pretty, Mr. Gentleman?”
Mick groaned
inwardly. At the moment, her hair was matted, with a little bit of greenery
from the bush tangled in it. Her clothes were disheveled and her makeup
smeared. He’d seen her sober, however, and put together. She was a pretty woman
when at her best, that that probably wasn’t a good thought to share right now.
“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink and you need to sleep it off.”
Adrienne pressed
against his side. “Do you and Taunya have something going on? Because I won’t
tell if you won’t.” She looked up at him and batted her lashes, but whatever
effect she was going for got spoiled by the smell of vomit on her breath.
He turned his face
slightly away. “There’s nothing to tell, and Taunya’s a good friend to both of
us.” He motioned toward her purse. “Can I help you find your keys?”
“All the good guys
are taken or not interested,” she grumbled as she handed over her purse. “There
aren’t any gentlemen left.”
He rummaged
through a pile of receipts until he got to the bottom and felt a key ring. He
pulled it out and slid the key into the lock. “I’m sure things will look better
when you’re sober.”
She looked at the
open door for a minute, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do. “I’m a little
dizzy,” she finally admitted. “Can you help me in?”
He took her arm
and walked in, discreetly pushing away a duffel bag and piles of clothes and
shoes strewn about, to clear a path to the living room. She was leaning heavily
on him, but when they got near enough, she promptly lay down on the couch and
closed her eyes. “I’ll just rest here for a minute. You don’t have to stay.”
Mick stood over
her, debating what to do. Should he leave her here in this condition? “Are you
sure?”
She kicked off her
shoes without opening her eyes, then turned on her side to get comfortable.
With as lumpy and worn as the old couch looked, that seemed a feat in itself.
“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”
Well, as she’d
pointed out, he wasn’t her mother, and she seemed to be doing okay now that she
was home. Mick turned to leave, but Adrienne sat up straight. “Wait. You didn’t
bring in my food.”
Oh yeah. The food
she’d ventured out of the house for that had started this whole mess. He held
up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll go get it and put it in your fridge.”
She lay back,
satisfied, and closed her eyes again. “Thanks.”
He jogged back to
his car and grabbed the takeout bag. He knew he’d never be able to eat Rosie’s
famous beef kebabs again. He grimaced and took another deep breath before going
back into the apartment. Adrienne was passed out, her bottle-blonde hair
sticking out at all angles, the brightness of the bleached yellow standing out
against the worn brown fabric. It was obvious nothing would wake her up, not
even food, so Mick decided to make his way to the kitchen.
It was small, the
linoleum worn in a few places. She obviously hadn’t done dishes for a couple of
days. The garbage was overflowing and needed taken out. Mick put the takeout
bag in the fridge and decided to at least take care of her garbage before he
left. If nothing else, that might improve the odor in her apartment. Mick
opened some cupboards and drawers before he found where she kept the bags, and
when he looked up, a small boy was in the doorway, his dark hair tousled from
sleep.
“Hey,” Mick said,
covering his surprise. “I’m Mick. What’s your name?”
The boy stared at
him for an uncomfortably long moment, his brown eyes taking him in, as if Mick
was being weighed and evaluated. “I’m Will,” he said finally. “Where’s my mom?”
“She’s in the
living room, um, resting.” He changed the garbage bag and tied it shut. “She
brought some beef kebabs home from Rosie’s. Are you hungry?”
Interest lit his
eyes, and he nodded. Mick got the takeout bag from the fridge, and when he
didn’t find any clean plates, he laid a napkin on the table with a kebab in the
middle. “Here you go.”
The boy eyed him
warily, but sat down. He bit into the meat and barely stopped to chew before he
put another piece in.
“Whoa, slow down,”
Mick said, as he sat down next to the boy. “You don’t want to choke.”
Will wiped his
mouth on his pajama sleeve, but didn’t say anything.
“How old are you?”
Mick asked, trying to start a conversation and give himself an excuse to stay
longer. Should he leave the boy with his passed-out mother in the other room?
“Seven.” He took
another bite, but slowly chewed it this time.
“Do you go to
Central Elementary?” It was the only elementary school in town, so chances were
he went there, but Mick was having a hard time thinking of topics he could talk
about with a seven-year-old who was definitely more interested in eating than
talking.
“Yeah.”
Will finished the
kebab in record time and Mick considered offering him the other one, but knew
Adrienne would want that for herself.
“You like it
there?” Mick asked, trying to draw the boy out.
“It’s okay. I like
soccer at recess.”
That little bit of
information felt like a victory of sorts, since Mick had gotten little more
than one word answers out of him. “I like soccer, too.”
Will started to
smile, but caught himself and frowned. “Mrs. Howard said we can’t play when it
snows, so I hope it never snows.”
“Me, too. I have a
convertible and like driving with the top down. You can’t do that when it’s
snowing.” He balled up the napkin and put it with the empty kebab stick. “Your
mom isn’t feeling well tonight. She might sleep for a while.” How much did the
boy know about his mom’s condition?
“She sleeps there
a lot.” Will turned away and headed for the hall. “Night.”
He didn’t seem
upset or scared, as if his mother passing out on the couch was a normal
occurrence. It made Mick’s heart hurt. Maybe when Adrienne was sober, he could
talk to her about getting a babysitter for the boy when she was at work, at
least. He shouldn’t be here alone.
Mick let himself
out and took the garbage to the bin in the back before he got into his car.
Debating on whether to leave the boy or stay, he sat staring at the apartment.
Will had taken the news of his mother’s condition in stride, as if he was used
to taking care of himself. Mick decided he’d done what he could for tonight,
but his mind couldn’t shut down the part of him that remembered himself as a
hungry little boy sneaking food whenever his foster mother wasn’t looking. No
one had cared about him then. Did Will have anyone who truly cared about him?
Mick pulled into
his driveway and turned the car off. The little boy in the kitchen dominated
his thoughts, but if he mixed them with his own childhood memories, he knew he
wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight no matter how hard he tried. Wanting to push
it all to the back of his mind, he bypassed the house and went directly to the
woodshop he’d built in his garage.
After crossing the
large room, he got out his latest project, cradling the piece of wood he’d been
working on for months. He’d carved animals and flowers, but this was the first
detailed bird he’d attempted. The intricacy of the feathers had been difficult
at first, and he’d had to give it all of his focus. Tonight, he knew he didn’t
have the patience for that kind of detailed work. He’d have to switch to the
face.
Once he had his
tools in hand and got his rhythm going, his emotions began to calm down. Wood
always had that effect on him, which was part of the reason he loved being a
woodshop teacher at the high school. He needed that calm to teach teenagers to
see the beauty in crafting something with your own hands into a masterpiece.
He lost all track
of time until early morning sunlight started to slant through the windows. Mick
yawned and looked down at the owl’s face, but he didn’t see wise eyes. Instead,
he saw the eyes of a hungry little boy alone in a house where his mother was
passed out on the couch. No matter how many wood pieces he carved,
circumstances like last night brought out the feeling of helplessness he’d
experienced as a child.
And he knew he needed to have a conversation with
Adrienne. Today.
