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  “Well, neither of you got hurt, and that really is the most important thing,” she said. “He’ll get over—oh, mother stuffer. Where’s her house?”

  Mikey didn’t answer.

  Partly because while he knew who her was—the only girl Will had never gotten over, despite what she’d done to him, and the woman Mari Belle had asked Mikey to protect Will from—and partly because he didn’t know her address.

  Yet.

  “He’s there,” Mari Belle said. “You find out where she lives, and you go talk some sense into his thick skull, or I’m gonna march right on up there and give him a what for until his ears bleed.”

  Mikey cleared his throat. “Might could be this one needs a softer touch.”

  And there went another Mari Belle sigh. Mikey smiled again despite himself. Girl could have a whole conversation with just them sighs. One of the things he’d always loved about her.

  Possibly Mikey was as big of a dummy about girls as Will was.

  Difference was, Mari Belle had always been family, whereas Will’s girl had torn him up and spit him out in a week, and the effects had lasted a lifetime.

  Mikey eyed the last bite of ice cream.

  Might be the kind of ice cream worth getting torn up over.

  Which was near about the craziest thing Mikey had ever thought.

  “Still like to see you up here,” Mikey said to Mari Belle. “Might could go light on giving him the what for though.”

  “He needs to get himself back on home.”

  “Sure enough, but he ain’t going to.” Three women his age stepped out of another shop. Mikey grinned and nodded at them, and the shorter one and the blonde smiled back. The brunette tripped on a flower box.

  “All okay, ma’am?” Mikey said, holding a hand out to the brunette.

  “I’m good,” she stammered.

  Mari Belle’s chuckle echoed in his ear. “You don’t ever quit flirting, do you?”

  “Living the dream, MB.” Since he’d never had much hope of having her, he’d had everyone else. “Y’all be careful now,” he said to the trio. “Hear tell the sidewalks are slippery in winter.”

  He treated them to another Mikey smile and a wink, and kept on walking.

  “Good ol’ dependable Mikey,” Mari Belle said. “You call me the minute you find him, you hear?”

  “I got this.” He winced. “No more space heaters, but I got this.”

  He turned the corner, and caught sight of The Milked Duck sign hanging off a wrought iron bracket over the ice cream shop’s door.

  That Dahlia—she was a whole other kind of crazy. Intrigued him more than a normal amount, that was for sure.

  “I’m pricing plane tickets,” Mari Belle said. “I don’t think I can swing this weekend, but next is looking good.”

  Mikey’s heart kicked into its normal seeing-Mari-Belle rhythm. “Give a holler if you want a ride from the airport or anything else.”

  “I’m a big girl, Mikey. I’ve got this.”

  Yep. Stubborn and independent. That was Mari Belle. Stubborn, independent, and overprotective of her brother, her daughter, and her aunt.

  Overprotective of everyone but Mikey. “Yes, ma’am.”

  They hung up as Mikey reached The Milked Duck. He glanced inside. A small group of women sat at one of the cutesy tables now, knitting and eating ice cream. Dahlia was nowhere in sight. Must’ve been doing her secret things in the kitchen.

  He had half a mind to go back in for more ice cream and poke and prod her, but he got the feeling she needed saving more than she needed teasing.

  Saving had never been Mikey’s strong suit.

  So instead, he climbed into his truck, fired it up, and waited for the heater to kick in while he pulled up the Internet on his phone.

  Chapter Four

  DAHLIA GOT home after closing the shop shortly before five. A black truck was parked in front of her house. After glancing at the charred remains of the house across the street, all she wanted was to change into pajama pants and curl up with her kitties. But inside, she found a one-man band set up in her living room.

  Mikey was in the lone chair in the room, chopsticks tucked behind his ear, two five-gallon buckets upside down on the floor beside her upside-down stockpot, which was propped up on a box. Two metal pan lids teetered on the edge of another box. A pretty acoustic guitar lay in an open case on the floor.

  He looked up from the paper he was scribbling on and offered her a lopsided grin. “Hey, sweet pea. You bring me anything special?”

  The lopsided bit wasn’t odd, but there was something forced about it. “Got a fresh bag of cat food outside.” Cat food that she’d bought with the twenty he’d left to pay for his ice cream.

  He pushed his makeshift drum set aside and rose with a stretch. “Words every man dreams of hearing. Make my night if you say you got catnip too.”

  She tried not to giggle. She tried hard.

  But she couldn’t help herself. “Extra strength,” she said.

  This time, his grin came out bigger, less forced. “Woman of my dreams.”

  “In your dreams,” she said.

  “Sit on down.” He pushed the buckets and boxes aside. “Look like you walked all over yourself without stopping to ask for directions all day long.”

  “Thank you?”

  He took her arm and steered her into the seat, where Parrot promptly appeared out of nowhere to leap onto her lap. Dean slunk in from the kitchen to throw himself at her feet, and Sam yowled from the bedroom.

  She smiled.

  Home.

  “You like pizza?” he said. “I hear tell there’s a great place around the corner that delivers.”

  He was being entirely too agreeable. “What do you want?” she said slowly.

  If he was insulted, he didn’t show it. Instead, he treated her to one of those smiles that could’ve evaporated her Chocolate Orgasm ice cream on sight. “Some quality time with a pretty lady.”

  “All out here.” She tried to stifle a yawn and failed. “Might try the next block down. One of the local caterers has twin daughters who recently graduated college.”

  He didn’t even look at the door.

  This was getting odd. And not at all comforting.

  “You like pepperoni? How do you feel about mushrooms?”

  “I’m a vegetarian.”

  Didn’t blink at that either. Instead, he pulled his phone out and thumbed over the screen. “Tomatoes? Peppers? Eggplant?”

  “Garlic and onion,” she said.

  Just in case this was supposed to be a date.

  He grinned over the top of his phone at her. “Two of my favorite foods.”

  Yep. She would have to kick him out. Because this whole homeless-but-sweet-and-shameless-and-in-need-of-a-woman-to-save-him thing was hitting way too close to what she usually went for in a guy.

  “I am so not kissing you tonight,” she informed him.

  He chuckled softly. And if she thought his smile was dangerous, his chuckle should’ve been classified as a biological weapon. Sin in a sound wave.

  “But now you’re thinking about what it would be like, ain’t you?” he said.

  “Only my stupid parts.”

  “Don’t you worry, sweet pea. I got other plans for our mouths tonight.”

  Images of his mouth on her hand, on her shoulder, on her breast came to mind. Then lower, on her—Dahlia bolted out of her seat, scattering the cats. “Not hungry,” she said. “Tired. Bed time. Sleep time. Alone. Sleep alone time. Stay out of my freezer. G’night.”

  “Was talkin’ about talking,” he said, but there was nothing innocent about his feigned innocence.

  She crossed her arms. “Did you see Billy today?”

  He winced. It was a quick thing—there and gone, replaced with a semi-bored tilt of his brow, but she knew she’d hit a nerve.

  She swallowed the instant apology bubbling up. No, it wasn’t her business, but if he could push buttons, she could push right back.
>
  “He’s still sorting through that personal stuff,” Mikey said slowly.

  Dahlia hadn’t realized her shoulders had lifted, but they sagged in disappointment. She knew code for He’s not interested in being seen in public when she heard it.

  She thought so, anyway. It wasn’t often she was actually one degree away from a megastar. She sucked in a breath, licked her lips, and pushed ahead anyway. Because—well, because why the heck not? What did she have to lose? “Do you think he’d want to come to my tasting event?” she said, sounding every bit the pathetic loser she felt like.

  Like a user. Somebody who only cared who these people were because of what they could do for her.

  “Might,” Mikey said. As if she wasn’t asking a huge favor of someone she had no right to ask anything of. His mouth hitched up again. “Specially if he gets a sample.”

  This was entirely too easy. “Is that your way of asking for a three-way?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Sweet pea, when I do a three-way, it ain’t ever with Billy.”

  “Oh.” Heat flamed in her cheeks. “Right. My bad. I can’t even pick a single man at a time. Obviously.”

  Mikey squeezed her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to share you with anyone anyway,” he said softly.

  Her heart went warm enough to melt an iceberg. “Don’t say things like that to me,” she whispered.

  So long as he wore his womanizer side, she could resist him. But when he acted like he knew how to use his heart—she was in trouble.

  His hand dropped away, and he cleared his throat. “So half veggie, half pepperoni. I’ll pick it up. Quicker than waiting.” In a wink, he’d flung his coat on and was heading out the door. “Back in a few,” he called.

  And she wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a reassurance or a warning.

  MIKEY DIDN’T do sleeping women.

  And he meant do in all senses of the word. Didn’t touch them, didn’t watch them, didn’t wake them.

  Especially didn’t watch.

  But when he got back to Dahlia’s house with the pizza, she was conked out in the chair, her head tilted into her shoulder, glasses crooked, arms tucked in as if she were giving herself a big ol’ hug. A section of her red-streaked dark hair fell across her round, rosy-hued cheek. Even with her lips twitching as though she was dreaming about kissing, she looked fresh and innocent as a snowflake. One cat was in her lap, another on the seat back behind her, the third sprawled across her feet. All three eyed him as though they were thinking of making him their dinner.

  Even the devil cats couldn’t stop his visions of picking her up, tucking her into bed, kissing her hair, and wishing her sweet dreams.

  She took care of people, and they took advantage of her. Wasn’t right. Yeah, she was probably using him to get Will to her ice cream thing, but Mikey’s visit with Will had confirmed what he suspected: His buddy was staying in Bliss until he’d worked out his past. So to take his mind off Will’s problems, Mikey had called an old fling this afternoon, someone who knew how to find things and do things, and had her do some digging.

  Not too surprisingly, Dahlia was hanging on by a financial thread.

  And there were hints she’d done this before, bailing out other people—at the expense of her own bank account. He was fixin’ to hit something if those people were all ex-boyfriends.

  Girl needed a keeper.

  Mikey tiptoed past her and into the kitchen. The lizard eyed him over a plate of lettuce, and two of the three cats were still tracking his movement from their perch in the living room.

  Dahlia, though, slept on.

  Mikey pulled two slices of pepperoni from the box, grabbed a napkin, and headed back to his bedroom. Because the more he thought about the girl needing a keeper, the more he thought it was his business.

  He didn’t do long-term. He lived on the road, he had good friends and family who loved him despite his faults, and he never lacked for female companionship. Didn’t need to get involved with a small-town girl who kept her own small zoo but couldn’t manage her life.

  Except Mikey wasn’t on the road and he didn’t have any friends or family to hang with tonight, which meant hitting a bar was the smartest thing Mikey could do.

  Get out, talk to some girls, grab as much normal as he could to remind himself why getting to know the ice cream lady any better was a bad, bad idea.

  There was exactly one woman in this world who got to tear Mikey up emotionally, and it wasn’t Dahlia.

  He paused on his way out the door to drape a blanket over her and the two cats sitting on her.

  Yep. Finding some fun was exactly what ol’ Mikey needed. So he hightailed it on out of Dahlia’s house and over to a little place he knew.

  For a bar in the middle of nowhere, Suckers wasn’t a bad joint. An hour after he arrived, Mikey was digging the purple mood lighting, the curved steel bar, and the red stools.

  He was trying to dig the single ladies crowded three-deep around him, listening to him tell the story of the time he and Billy and the rest of the band played in a freak September snowstorm in South Dakota. Put all the right emphasis on almost losing his fingers to frostbite but putting on the best show for the fans anyway, and the ladies were eating it all up. Petting him, offering to kiss his long-healed boo-boos, doing all the right things to make a man feel worshipped.

  Usually everything he wanted out of a night out with the ladies.

  But tonight—tonight, he was thinking about soft curves, round rosy cheeks, and dark eyelashes. He was wondering if Dahlia woke up and got any dinner. Or if she woke up and moved to the bed where she’d be more comfortable. Or if she’d fed her cats.

  Her cats.

  Mikey was thinking about her cats.

  When he should’ve been soaking up all the attention from fourteen ladies who would’ve each loved to give him a different place to stay tonight.

  He took a swig off his Bud Light and then winked at one of the two blondes to his right. “And if you think that’s bad, wait till you hear about the time our stage almost collapsed.”

  They all oohed and squealed and begged for more, and Mikey gave it to them.

  But forty-five minutes later, having bought them each one last drink, he turned and waved down the little redhead tending bar. “Check please, sweet pea.”

  Because he might’ve looked in his element, but he didn’t have the stamina to keep it up another couple of hours.

  Fighting decreased lung capacity thanks to standing outside watching that fire burn too long last night, he told himself. Or maybe feeling the effects of too many days in the bitter cold Northern winter.

  “You sick?” Little Red said. “Or are you heading over to the karaoke bar?”

  No room to be offended. Little Red’s sister Saffron had played fiddle and backup guitar with Will’s band for a lot of years. No doubt Little Red had heard plenty of stories. He winked at her, then leaned further over the bar and lowered his voice. “You been here long?”

  “Since last July.”

  “You know the Milked Duck lady?”

  “Dahlia? Yeah. She patched my nephew up after he took a tumble in the park last fall. And she volunteers at the shelter all the time. She has the sweetest guinea pig. Have you met him? He’s adorable.”

  Yep. Everybody loved Dahlia. “Haven’t had the pleasure. Heard she had a boyfriend a while back. You know anything about that?”

  Little Red’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Asking for Billy. Thought we heard the guy knew his way around a keyboard, and we might could have some use for him,” Mikey lied.

  Little Red shrugged. “Don’t know anything about him.”

  “Not even a name?”

  “Oh, well, yeah. I know his name.”

  She peered at him expectantly.

  Yep, everybody wanted something. And he was being a big ol’ dummy caring, but he wanted to know who’d cheated Dahlia out of her money.

  So he could track him down and pound the guy into the
ground.

  Wasn’t right. Hadn’t felt like doing that since Mari Belle announced she was getting divorced.

  Mikey reached into his wallet and pulled out an extra twenty.

  “I don’t want a big tip, you dolt,” Little Red scoffed. “I want to know every trick Saffron ever played on you guys when she was touring with you. I could use a new idea or two this year. Need to get back my family prankster crown. And, you know, avoid Saffron getting the better of me now that she’s living close and all.”

  First time all night Mikey felt a real smile on his face. “You’re the baby of the family, right?”

  “I prefer to think of it as the best,” Little Red said.

  Exactly like Saffron would’ve said about her own position in their big family. “Name now, list of pranks tomorrow,” he said. “Maybe this weekend, if you want everything. Billy might remember a few things I forget.”

  She grabbed a napkin and scribbled something, then clapped it into his hand. “Deal. And if you don’t follow through…”

  “Trouble like I ain’t ever seen,” Mikey finished for her. He had a notion he’d seen some of that trouble from Saffron on the road. Usually funny, unless it was aimed at him. “Got it.”

  Little Red gave him a sassy wink. “And this stays between us.”

  “Every last word,” he agreed.

  Because if anyone found out Mikey had gone to the trouble to find out a girl’s ex-boyfriend’s name, he might have to face what wanting the information really meant.

  And he didn’t know what bothered him more—that he cared, or that she wouldn’t care that he cared.

  Because Mikey Diamond was a lot of things, but an upstanding, follow-through kind of guy for a woman he barely knew wasn’t one of them.

  Especially a woman who was only using him to get to Billy.

  Life was craptastic like that sometimes.

  THE SOUND OF a key scraping a lock jolted Dahlia out of a sound sleep. Parrot dug her claws into Dahlia’s leg and flung herself away, except she didn’t make it. Instead, she tumbled in a ball of fluff, caught up in the blanket she was pulling off Dahlia, bringing a chill to Dahlia’s skin. Sam shot out from his perch at her feet, and Dean growled low behind her.