Page 22 of Blame it on the Mistletoe
“So women aren’t e-mailing me nonstop because they think I’m charming?” he said, and a hint of a smile teased at her lips. “It’s all public record.”
“It was still a pretty crappy thing of me to do, and you didn’t sell me out,” she said as if every man before him had done exactly that.
“What can I say? A hero’s work is never done.”
She laughed. And what a beautiful laugh—carefree, bold, and a whole hell of a lot better than that heartbreaking smile of a moment ago.
“If you want to talk about it, or anything.”
She held up a hand and stepped back. “Nope. We’re good.”
He was better when she was in his arms, but he’d take what he could get. “Then how about we take this roadshow inside and out of the rain?”
She stepped inside, then turned to block his entrance. “Depends. You got a warrant?”
“Do I need one?”
“Answering a question with a question.” She rolled her eyes all the way to the peak of the house. “You’re such a cop.”
“Is this the part of the night where we throw out our role-play fantasies?”
She snorted. “In your dreams. And yes, you need a warrant.”
“What if I don’t want to search for anything? What if I come bearing presents in the form of power?”
Her fathomless eyes met his and she smiled. “You’d still need a warrant.”
“You’re strict, angel. Is that how you earned your wings? Following all the rules?”
“And you’re a sweet talker.” She opened the door and stood back. “You can come in. This once. I’m guessing you need access to my breaker box?”
“Now who’s sweet-talking who?” And with a wink, Noah took off his hat and walked past her into the house, catching a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. The woman smelled like Christmas and looked like heaven, even when she was scowling at him.
With only the faint light of the moon, he could see the house was clean and well cared for, a surprise since the exterior was in some serious need of love. He kicked off his boots, chuckling over her shocked expression at his thoughtfulness, and left them and his hat by the door as he made his way farther into the room, clicking on his flashlight when she closed the door.
“Is your box in your bedroom?” he asked hopefully.
“You wish. It’s in the kitchen.”
He followed her lead, watching the sway of her hips. And tight didn’t even begin to describe those pajama bottoms. With no visible panty lines, he had to wonder if she was wearing a thong, a G-string, or nothing at all. And while he was more of a thong than G-string kind of guy, he was rooting for commando.
“You can stop shining the light on my butt now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Up the beam went, to land on—would you look at that—the breaker box.
“And it isn’t that I don’t know what to do in a blackout. I do. But this is our first year in this house, so I’m not familiar with how things work. And if it wasn’t for the bake sale, I’d have pushed through until the lights came back on.”
“Understood.”
“I don’t want you thinking that I’m one of those women who runs around like a chicken with her head cut off when the lights go out. I know how to flip a breaker. I have a flashlight. Normally this would be no big deal.”
She talked the entire way to the kitchen, only stopping when they reached the panel in the back of the pantry, where she explained everything. She knew about her house’s electrical system—which was pretty impressive.
She was still talking when he handed her the flashlight so he could familiarize himself with the setup. Faith couldn’t stand not being active. Every time he’d seen her, she’d been in constant motion. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when she knocked his shoulder with the flashlight because she was trying to peer around him to see what he was doing. And he didn’t laugh when she placed her hands on his arm for balance as she went up on her toes, only to huff when she couldn’t get a good enough view. In fact, Noah was enjoying her curiosity so much, he didn’t even bother to mention that her house was already set up for a generator and there was no need for him to stand there any longer.
But her front was pressed against his back and he was in no rush to move. Then the beam of light passed over the bags of ingredients on the counter and he reluctantly stepped back.
“So?” she asked, shining the beam directly into his eyes.
