Page 50 of Totally Off Limits

Back at the table with the bottle of wine in hand, he pointed at Sierra’s glass. “Need more?”

“Sure.”

As he poured, he answered her question. “Not only no, but f—” With a grin, Mickey stopped himself, setting Sierra’s full glass down and grabbing his own. “Hellno. Before that, he talked about getting a tattoo on his back—not somewhere else, of course, in case he decided he wanted to go back—but I don’t know if he ever followed through. But he loved being part of the road crew—and it was like he embraced everything modern life had to offer. Unfortunately, we were probably the worst influences on him, even though we actually tried not to be. I think he wound up being a good influence on us—and he did wind up going back home after the year—but he said it was so he could say goodbye. Whether he actually did or not, I don’t know for sure.”

Having filled his glass, he set the bottle down and took a long swallow while Sierra cleaned Mia’s hands and face off. “What’s that called again?” she asked, unbuckling her daughter from the high chair.

Mickey squinted his eyes. “The year off?”

“Yeah.” Setting Mia on the floor, she said, “There you go.”

“Rumspringa. I learned more about the Amish after a year with Sam than I’d ever known—and I gotta say I respect them. Unlike a lot of fucking religions, they seem to practice what they preach. And Sam, well, the guy was super cool—nice. A hard worker. Innocent as hell. When one of the other roadies asked if he wanted a bump, he asked why. ‘To pick you up,’ the other guy said. ‘So you want to knock me down just so you can pick me up?’ And when we all laughed, Sage told the other roadie to stop being a dick. Then he told Sam they were offering him cocaine—and I wouldn’t say Sam wasangry, but he straightened everyone out. ‘I might want to experience stuff I never have—and maybe even stuff like that—but don’t try to trick me.’ The guy said he wasn’t trying to trick him, ‘cause most people know what a bump is. Long story short, everything was cool after that.”

“Did he ever try coke?”

“No idea. I didn’t hang with the roadies all the time, but they seemed to get along pretty well after all that.” Mia walked over and held out one of the little plastic dolls to Mickey. “What’s this?”

“A girl.”

“It does look like a girl,” Mickey said, holding the doll closer to his face. After a second, he looked up at Sierra. “Although my hair is as long as hers.”

“Stereotypes. What can I say? My parents got her that…but she loves it so much, I can’t not let her play with it.”

“Are you sure this is a girl? She’s smaller than you.”

“She’s adollgirl.”

“Oh,” he said as if he hadn’t understood. Handing the doll back to Mia, he said, “Are you wanting me to play with you?” When the child nodded her head emphatically, he said, “Okay, but let me help your mom clean up the kitchen first.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll get this later.” But she put a lid on the coleslaw and placed it in the refrigerator. “You can entertain Mia while I just stick a couple things in the fridge.”

Mickey gave her a frown that made his face look so damned adorable, but Sierra responded with raised eyebrows as if challenging him. He said, “If I’m in charge of entertainment, then I’m gonna teach her how to play bass.” Looking back to Mia, he said, “Wanna play some rock and roll?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, her dark eyes wide as she nodded her head.

“Is it okay if we head to the living room?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right there.”

“C’mon, kiddo.” Standing, Mickey held out a hand and Mia placed her tiny one in it. Watching them walk down the short hallway, Sierra felt her throat constrict as her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t help it, because it looked so natural, so beautiful. Forcing the tears back, she started working on wrapping up the leftovers for the fridge instead of questioning her decision not to tell Mickey he was Mia’s father.

But she couldn’t have, not back then. She’d had no way to reach him. When she’d finally worked up the nerve that one time when her belly was but a bump, she’d gone back to that dingy apartment over the bar on Main Street—but a skinny older guy answered the door and told her Mickey didn’t live there anymore. The creepy guy had invited her in just the same, but she’d turned and run while he laughed, even more horrified that he thought her exit was funny.

And now so much time had passed…and Mickey had another life.

So did Sierra. Maybe in a different lifetime, it might have worked. But not here. Not now.

What the hell am I doing?She was playing with Mickey, a little like a cat might play with a mouse. No, not quite. She had no intention of killing him—and, so long as they knew this was just for fun, she wouldn’t hurt him, either.

After she put the last container away, she listened to both Mickey and Mia laughing, letting out a slow breath from between pursed lips before she started heading down the hallway. By the time she emerged in the living room, she was wearing a smile, one she’d practiced and perfected for years.

Mickey was seated on the sofa, Mia in front of him, and when she would touch a string, Mickey would pluck it on the neck. As it vibrated against her fingertip, Mia started giggling—and the more they did it, the more she giggled. Because it wasn’t plugged into an amp, the sounds were muted, but Sierra could hear them just fine as she got closer.

When she sat next to Mickey, she said, “I don’t think she’s going to learn much this way.”

“Believe it or not, I tried to find a toy bass. The only thing I could find in town was too big for Mia. If I’d thought about it sooner, I could have bought something online.”

“She seems to be having fun.”

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