I BLINK AWAKE TO THE scent of vanilla and amber, and the silky strands of Faith’s blonde hair tickling my nose, the sweet press of her naked next to me. The fireplace is also burning to my right, the rug is beneath me, and the sun is burning through a window in a blinding bright light. Someone is also holding their damn finger on the doorbell.
Faith jolts awake and sits up, the blanket falling to just the right spot to expose her creamy white back, and to cover my morning wood, I’d have claimed her if not for the incessant doorbell ringing. “Any idea who that asshole is?” I ask irritably, preferring to wake up with this woman in a much different way.
“I’ll handle it,” Faith says, avoiding my query, her fingers diving into her hair before she pops to her feet and takes the blanket with her. The result: my wood is officially on display, while someone is now pounding on the door.
Faith lets out a low, frustrated sound. “I need to throw on clothes,” she says, rushing toward her bedroom, sadly never even noticing said morning wood, which only makes me more irritated at the incessant knocking now consuming the entire damn space.
I push to my feet, grab my pants, and in the thirty seconds it takes me to pull them on, the door bell has stopped ringing and started again. Running hands through my tangled hair, compliments of Faith’s fingers, I walk to her bedroom, my gaze landing on that card on the bed, before the empty space leads me through to the bathroom. I find Faith standing in her closet, pulling a t-shirt into place and already wearing black sweatpants. “Who the hell is that?” I ask again.
“I don’t know,” she says, shoving her feet into Keds, “but as embarrassing as this is about to get, I’m guessing it has to be one of the bill collectors from the winery.”
“As in plural?” I ask. “There’s more than the bank chasing you for money?”
Her expression tightens, right along with her reply. “Yes. It’s every vendor we use, and no one would stay this long, and this rudely, that wasn’t here to collect money.”
Protectiveness, as unfamiliar as the possessiveness she stirs in me, rises in me and I go with it. “I’ll handle it,” I say, heading back to the bedroom and onward toward the front of the house, my mind processing the implications of Faith’s embarrassment and circumstances. And I come to the obvious conclusion that has nothing to do with my rapidly growing interest in this woman. No one with access to the funds my father wrote to her mother would put themselves through this with such genuine emotional response. If Faith was involved in whatever scam occurred, which I highly doubt, she doesn’t have the money now. And if she wanted to take the money and run, why put herself through this? Why not give the winery to the bank?
“Nick,” Faith calls after me, her voice echoing from the distance. “Nick. Stop.”
“Not on your life, sweetheart,” I murmur, doubtful she can even hear me, but my actions speak for themselves.
The pounding grows louder right about the time I reach the foyer, as if the asshole just took his boot to the door, or his fists. I disarm the alarm, unlock the door, and right when I’m about to open it, Faith calls out from behind me, “You have on no shoes, no shirt, and no underwear, and your pants are unzipped.”
I open the fucking door and there stand the two stooges I’d called suits at the winery two nights before. This time they wear matching khakis and white-collared shirts, because apparently khakis are supposed to be intimidating. “Mr. Rogers,” Stooge Number One says, and while I can remember his name, I just don’t care to give him that credit. “I…We…”
Stooge Number Two tries to fill in the blanks. “We didn’t know you were personally involved in this.”
“Card,” I demand.
They both blink at me like I’ve just spoken another language they don’t understand any more than their own.
“Business-fucking-card,” I say. “Now.”
They both fumble with their pockets, and I have two cards shoved at me. I grab one, and look at it. Then the other. Both employees of a collection agency which I happen to know that the bank that holds Faith’s note hires often.
“We both know the ways you’ve broken the law,” I say. “Don’t do this again.” And with that order, I slam the door on them and lock it. I don’t immediately turn to Faith, who is hovering nearby. I step to the slit of a window beside the door, and watch the stooges all but run to their car.
Rotating, I find Faith standing under the archway dividing the hall from the foyer. “They won’t be back. I’ll buy you some time at the bank, but we need to sit down and talk. I need to be fully armed with information when I talk to the bank.”
“No,” she says. “No. I can’t pay you.”
I give her a once over, her nipples puckered under her pink tee, her hair a wild, sexy mess. Her lips are natural, and swollen from my kisses, for which I plan for many more. “I’m doing this for you, Faith. Not money.” I take a step toward her.
She backs up and holds up a hand. “Stop. You don’t get to fuck me and then take over my life, Nick. I didn’t even invite you into my life. I invited you for one night. Hard rule, Nick.”
“I’ve had my share of one night women, Faith,” I say, voicing what I’ve only just concluded myself. “You aren’t one of them.” I firm my voice. “I’m not leaving. You need my help, and you’re going to take my help.”
“You don’t get to just decide that. I’m not some girl that’s gaga over you, Nick. I’m a grown woman who lives her life and makes her own decisions.”
“Who now has help. There is nothing wrong with needing help besides not having it.”
“You can’t bulldoze me, Nick. I won’t let you.”
“If I could, you wouldn’t be interesting to me, Faith. And you are. More now than the moment I met you, and that’s new for me. Usually, a fuck does the job and I’m not interested anymore.”
“There it is. The exact reason I’m reacting like I am. You basically just confirmed my thoughts. You’ll help me until the interest fades. I pay not in money, but by entertaining you and fucking you, until I have the misfortune of sating your appetite. I don’t need what you just made me feel in my life right now or ever again. Leave, Nick.” She turns on her heel and starts marching away.