Five minutes later, I walked up the now-familiar porch steps at Mickey’s. The door swung open before I reached it.
“Hey.” Mickey’s smile was wide and welcoming.
“Hey, yourself.” Shamelessly, I approached him and brushed a kiss against his lips.
When I pulled back, he cupped the back of my head and pulled me in for a deeper, lingering kiss that chased the cold evening air away.
I hope his neighbors aren’t lookie-loos.Though I’d been away from Maplewood for so long, maybe they wouldn’t recognize me.
The thought made my stomach heave. Instead of enjoying the greeting by the guy I was into, I was worried about getting spotted and word getting out about whatever was going on between us.
“That smells delicious.” He sniffed the air.
“It should. It’s got your cheese on it.”
Mickey’s eyes widened. “You brought me the special?”
“I did. It’s been wildly popular today. You good to eat enemy food?”
He shot me a sly grin. “As long as you don’t say anything, I won’t.”
I mimed zipping my lips as I followed him inside his warm house. Minutes later, we had our burgers and fries transferred to plates, beers cracked, and were sitting across from each other at the dining table. Without thinking, I shoved a handful of fries into my mouth. It had been a busy day, and I’d only managed a protein bar for lunch.
Mickey stared at his plate instead of touching it.
“Worried it’s poisoned?”
He cracked a smile, but something lurked in his eyes when he looked at me. “I just can’t believe my cheese is being served in a restaurant instead of on cheeseboards to my friends and family. I never thought it would happen.”
I kicked back my chair and moved around to his side of the table. Standing behind him, I hooked my chin over his shoulder and wrapped my arms around his chest. He covered my arms with his hand.
“Your cheese is amazing, Mickey. It’s worthy of being on the menu at any restaurant.” I gave him one more squeeze before returning to my seat.
“Thanks. You sure your mom is okay with it?”
I snorted. “She’s almost sold out of the special. I think she’s perfectly fine with it. In fact, she told me to talk to you about getting more.” I already respected the hell out of Mickey, but those feelings had deepened into something real. Something more than a crush. He was the kind of guy I would be lucky to be with. The type I’d always hoped to find someday. It was a cruel twist of fate that it was Mickey Brewer of Red’s Restaurant in Maplewood, Vermont, of all people and places.
He selected a single fry and took a small bite, chewing carefully. Tilting his head and looking off into the distance, he picked up two more and ate them much faster. “These are actually really good.”
“Thanks?” I said, laughing.
I watched him tackle the burger with more eagerness. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “This is good, and not just because of the cheese. The burger isn’t dry, it has good flavor, and the bun is keeping it all together instead of disintegrating in my hand.”
“I’ll accept those compliments on behalf of our chef.” I laughed at his genuine surprise. Did he expect our food to be awful?
Mickey eagerly worked through his dinner. “Did your mom tell you how I scared the hell out of her by lurking in the shadows?”
Laughter bubbled out of me as I put the pieces together. “You’re the Maple Street Prowler!”
“Thewhat?”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and navigated to the Maplewood Matters blog. The photo was grainy—just the back of a figure in a bulky coat with the hood pulled up.
Mickey read the screen after I passed the phone to him. His eyebrows crept toward his hairline. “They think I’m a burglar? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Word on the street is an old Chevy Blazer was vandalized. Broken door handle from someone trying to break in.” My lips twitched.
Mickey scoffed and shoved the phone back at me. “You must be talking about Roger’s rig. That door handle has been broken for a decade. He’s just trying to find a way to get insurance to pay for the fix since he’s too cheap to do it himself.” Mickey shoved fries into his mouth and chewed angrily.
