“You don’t strike me as the kind of man to work for anyone other than yourself.”
Fuck. This conversation was headed to a place he didn’t want it to go, and it was all his fault. Gus knew better than to ask questions because questions led to more questions, and that’s when shit went sideways.
He was good at reading people. In his experience as a SEAL, it meant the difference between life and death. But he couldn’t figure out where Ford’s head was at, and that was a problem. Luckily, the boy saved his ass.
“Daddy, what kind of ice cream cone do you want?”
Ford held Gus’s gaze for a few more moments — enough time for Gus to know he was treading too close to some invisible line — then shepherded his son up to the food truck.
“That seemed intense.”
“Just getting to know my employer.” He nudged Faith with his elbow. “I see you got your cone.”
She licked the top of it and smiled. “Are you getting one?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you want a lick?” A smile played with the edges of her mouth, and suddenly, the world faded away. His brother, with those piercing eyes and probing questions, was long gone. All he could think about was that delicious mouth and its accompanying pink tongue.
She took one step until she stood directly in front of Gus and held up the cone. Her eyes were a deeper color of hazel, bordering on green, and he thought that maybe they were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
Gus bent his head and slowly licked the top of her cone, his eyes on Faith and the cute blush that now stained her cheeks.
“That’s good,” he said.
“My favorite.”
She licked at the corner of her mouth but missed. It was too tempting. Gus leaned closer still and carefully kissed away the chocolate. He would have continued with some more kissing, but . . .
“Ew. That’s gross.”
Gus shot a look at Benjamin, who stood with his own cone in hand and chocolate smeared across his nose. “Give it ten years or so, bud.”
“I’ll still think it’s gross.” Benjamin took another swipe at his cone.
A throat cleared, and Gus became aware of his brother. Ford stood a few feet away, his expression neutral, though his eyes were hooded, the blue darker than normal. Did Ford have feelings for Faith? Or was it something else. Something that hit closer to home.
“It’s time for us to go, Benny.” Ford gave a slight nod. They said their goodbyes, and Gus watched his brother and nephew walk away, the little guy talking animatedly while Ford kept a hand on his shoulder.
“Sad, isn’t it?” Faith said, standing beside him.
“What’s that?”
“A little boy with no mother.”
“A lot of kids are raised by one parent.”
“I know,” she replied softly. “But it’s different when a parent dies. It’s permanent. They’re never coming back, and it takes someone real special to take up the space of two people. Ford’s a good dad.”
Gus couldn’t disagree. In fact, he would go further and say that Ford Boone was a hero. He’d created something special out of tragedy.
The two were nearly out of sight. Gus watched until they disappeared around the bend. Their love was obvious — their bond strong, like steel. All those things made Gus wonder . . .
How had a man raised by someone as shitty as their father become the kind of man Gus could admire and respect?
“Are you sure you don’t want your own cone?”
He turned his attention to Faith and that mouth and those eyes. He needed a distraction. Something to chase away the shadows in his head and the doubts in his heart.
