Free Fighting Faith by Brandie Buckwine Page B

like her?”
    “Not especially,” Eric said with a sigh.
    “Then why are you working with her?”
    Eric shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “Because she’s good at what she does and she cut us a deal. The fact she’s the wicked witch of the west is just the price I have to pay.” A fancy German car cut in front of him, and he slammed on the brakes, honking his horn. “I’ll get us out of there as quick as I can. Then we can go out.”
    “Yeah,” Van said, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it out the window.
    “I’ve been looking forward to getting some home-grown pussy again.” Eric glanced at him and shook his head. Same old Van. The man resembled the singer he was named after— Van Morrison— short, chubby, and beginning to lose his hair, but damned if the guy couldn’t charm a girl into bed every time. “I don’t know how you do it.” Van licked his fingers and smoothed the hair at his temples. “It’s a gift.”
    “You got that right.”

    They parked behind Jose’s little red box of a car. Eric led the way through the gate and down the steps to Faith’s deck. The patio door was open, and Sarah and the guys were standing around in the kitchen watching Faith set out bowls, spoons, and napkins for chili. The spicy aroma was heavy. Eric’s stomach growled.
    Sarah squealed when she saw Van, and ran to him, her arms wide. “Oh my God! I was so happy when Eric told me you were coming home to visit.” He rocked her from side to side. “Hey, sweetie. I’ve missed you too.” Sarah kissed his cheek a few times before she released him to the rest of the group. When Van finished his rounds, he came to Faith.
    “Well hello there, sweetness. And who might you be?”
    She laughed at his corniness and offered her hand for him to shake. “I’m Faith. This is my house.”
    He kissed the back of her hand and looked at Eric. “The videographer?”
    “That’s me, and I know who you are. You’re trouble,” she said, blushing at Van’s smooches.
    “The way Eric described you, I thought you were an old lady. And green.” Van and Faith both looked to Eric, whose face burned red. Van turned back to her. “But you are just a luscious piece of candy. I’d love to suck you between my lips and pet you with my tongue.” Faith’s eyes increased in size as everyone snickered at his remark. Pushing Van away, Eric said, “And that’s why I told you she was an old lady and green— so you wouldn’t walk in here drooling with your tongue dragging on the ground.” She eyed them both suspiciously, and then turned back to the kitchen. “There’s beer in the fridge if you guys want some.”
    “I’ll have one. Thank you, ma’am.” Van licked his lips as she walked away.
    “I’ll grab it,” Eric said, crossing the kitchen and opening the door of the refrigerator.
    Faith grabbed a bowl of grated cheese from the counter behind him. When Eric stood and turned around, one of the two beers in his hand started to slip away. The can barely left his grasp when his other hand swiped it from the air, but his pendulum-like momentum kept his hand moving, until it reached Faith and her bowl of cheese. He hit it so hard, the bowl flipped into the air, showering them both with grated cheese.

    She glared up at him as the bowl hit the side of the counter and shattered, sending glass everywhere. “Nice,” she said.
    Eric squeezed his eyes shut, as though that might undo the damage.
    “Did you just knock that out of her hands?” Sarah asked.
    Eric shook his head vehemently. “I didn’t mean to.”
    “Jeez Eric, way to go,” Tim said.
    “I swear it was an accident! Why would you tell me to get in the fridge, and then stand over the top of me when I do it?” He glared at her.
    Faith shook her head and pushed him away toward the others. “You guys go ahead and dish up. I’ll clean this up.”
    “If you want help, I’ll help,” Eric said over his shoulder.
    Faith still shook her head,