Beautifully Flawed (Shine Design Series Book 2)

by Laura Pavlov

A butcher knife.

  A rolling pin.

  No rhyme. No reason. They both seemed like they could do some damage.

  “Stop. Stop. No,” Maverick shouted.

  Her hands shook, and she tiptoed to his bedroom door. She gripped the knife and the rolling pin hard in each hand prepared to either swing or stab. She didn’t know, but she’d figure it out. He needed her.

  One. Two. Three.

  She jumped like a ninja in the doorway, ready for battle. A loud gasp escaped her when she saw Maverick on his bed, pressed against the headboard yelling. Screaming. She scanned the room, thankful for the light coming from the hallway. No one else was there. His arms flailed wildly, his skin glistened with sweat, and his hair damp.

  “Maverick,” she whispered. No response.

  Daisy paced around the room. Maverick’s dark gaze was distant. Empty. His skin a bit pale. His eyes were wide open, but he didn’t see her standing there. He was far away. Fighting someone off. Tears streamed down her face as she stood frozen at the foot of his bed. He continued to yell for another two or three minutes, until the room went eerily silent. He stopped yelling. Sat completely still. She wondered if he would acknowledge her now, but he didn’t. He moved down on the bed, placed his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. He returned to sleep as if he hadn’t just been fighting for his life. She’d heard of night terrors before, but never actually experienced one. This was terrifying.

  She dropped down on the floor and Daisy walked over and sat beside her.

  “Good job, girl.” She patted her.

  Well, now what? What if it happened again? She wanted to make sure he was safe. She grabbed a pillow off his bed and went to the couch. Using the throw blanket, she made herself a little makeshift bed and stretched out. Squeezing her eyes closed, she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. Tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t shake the image of Maverick screaming for help and fighting off whatever haunted him.

  She didn’t know what it was, but she made a promise to herself to find out. Then she made herself another promise: she’d fight his demons for him if she needed to.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maverick’s Playbook

  If you know it’s right—go after it!

  The alarm startled him from sleep, his arm heavy when he turned it off. He pushed up, stopped in the bathroom to brush his teeth, and went to the kitchen to get the coffee going. Hitting a few buttons on the coffee maker, he saw movement out of his peripheral.

  What the hell?

  He walked to the couch and saw a wild mane of blonde hair. “Peaches?”

  She stirred, moaned, and finally rolled over to face him. Pushing her hair out of her face, she peeked out from under the thin throw blanket. “Oh, hey.”

  “Oh, hey? You want to tell me why you’re on the couch?” He pushed her legs aside and moved to sit beside her.

  She sat forward and rubbed her eyes. “Daisy woke me up at two in the morning. She was frantic. Howling, and barking, and running in circles. I followed her over here and tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up. I rang the doorbell,” she said, her voice raspy.

  “How’d you get in?”

  “I remembered the garage code.” Her gaze darted around the room. She was nervous. What the hell happened? A sinking feeling hit his stomach.

  Fuck.

  He glanced at the coffee table and noticed a large knife and a rolling pin. Was she afraid of him? “Did I scare you? What’s with the knife and the odd baking utensil?”

  She laughed a little, her stare locked with his. “Oh my gosh, no. Not at all. I was worried about you. I heard yelling. I thought someone was attacking you.”

  “And you didn’t call the police? You grabbed a knife and a rolling pin and charged the tundra, huh?” He couldn’t look at her. Didn’t want her pity. She thought someone was inside threatening him, and she ran to help? If he couldn’t defend himself, how the hell did she plan on defending him?

  “Of course, I came to help you. I’d never leave you alone if you were in trouble.” Her hand landed on his back and moved up and down slowly.

  He put his face in his hands. She’d seen him at his worst. He fucking despised being weak. “Shit, Peaches. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  She moved closer. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t care. It’s a night terror, right?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

  “Do you have them often?”

  “I don’t know when I have them. My arms felt a little heavy this morning, sometimes I suspect I had one when I wake up feeling a little off. I don’t think I have them often, but I can’t say for sure.”

  “Is this why you don’t do sleepovers?” Her soft voice soothed. She wrapped her small arms around his middle and squeezed before tucking her head under his arm and settling her cheek on his chest.

  “Yeah. I mean obviously my family knows this is something I deal with because I’ve had them since the day they brought me home. It’s not something I really want to share with people, you know?”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “I would never tell anybody. But I don’t know why you won’t talk about it. Everyone has something, Wallace. Night terrors aren’t uncommon. Have you ever seen a doctor about it? Tried to figure out why you have them?”

  He leaned back against the couch, not the conversation he planned to have first thing this morning. “Yeah. My mom took me to several doctors when I was young. It’s pretty basic. I went through some shit the first few years of my life. I guess it’s buried in there somewhere. But at this point, their only solution is medication. I can’t take meds and play football. So, I don’t do sleepovers. Problem solved.”

  “It’s not a solution. It’s a bandage.”

  “Well, it works for me. But I’m sorry you got pulled into this shit. I’d never want to scare you. You want a cup of coffee?” He pushed up and walked to the kitchen.

  “Sure.”

  Peaches wasn’t the quiet type, so he knew she was stirring over something. He settled back on the couch with two cups of coffee. “Here you go.”

  “You didn’t scare me. If you’re worried you did. I wanted to help you.” Her voice soft, tentative.

  He moaned. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

  She studied him but didn’t say a word.

  “What?” He raised his hands in question.

  “This is why you were a jerk the night you asked me to dinner after the wedding.”

  “You’ve got cuddler written all over you, Peaches.” He wanted to lighten the mood. And yeah, he’d been a dick because there was no way to explain his situation to her. Hell, he’d never even told Jackson about his night terrors, and he’d known him most of his life.

  “I’m not a one-night stand girl, sure. But this is different. You should have told me.” Her gaze filled with empathy and understanding.

  Not what he wanted.

  “It’s not really first date conversation, you know.”

  “Well, you dated Madison for six months. It never came up?” she said.

  “Nope. Not something I talk about.” He took his empty mug to the sink.

  “Hey, Wallace…”

  “Yeah.”

  “We had our first sleepover, and it wasn’t so bad.” She followed him to the kitchen, set her mug in the sink, and bumped her hip into his playfully.

  “You slept with a butcher knife beside you. I wouldn’t call it a huge success.” A heaviness settled in his chest. She’d seen him at his weakest, and he fucking hated it.

  “Nah. I was just afraid you’d bring out your flaming baton.” She winked before walking out the door.

  ****

  “Are you done ignoring me? It must be my lucky day,” she said with complete annoyance and stormed past him to drop on the couch.

  “I’m not ignoring you.” Yeah, he was. He’d kept his distance since she found him screaming like a little bitch in his sleep two nights ago. “I texted you to come over. I have
something for you.” She knew about his nightmares. It was why he’d stayed away from her in the first place. She was fucking beautiful. Long blonde waves cascaded down her back. Her tanned skin shimmered against a white silk tank top, and tight jeans emphasized her toned shape. Her arms crossed over her chest and she glared at him.

  “What? We’re just fine now?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’ve been MIA for two days. And now you text me saying you have a present for me?”

  “I’m sorry, Peaches. I had some shit to work out.” More like hiding. He missed running with her, but he’d bailed the past two days. He avoided work at the house.

  “You know, Wallace, excuses are like backsides. Everyone’s got one, and they all stink. The jig is up—I know you have nightmares. So what? It’s not a big deal. We all have flaws. I don’t expect you to be perfect, God knows I never considered the idea for a moment. Not when you’re always acting like a stubborn ass.”

  Damn if she wasn’t sexy when she was pissed off.

  “Jesus. Could you insult me more in one breath? Thank you for pointing out how imperfect I am. You found something out about me I haven’t shared with anyone aside from my family. Ever. I needed to process it. So I stayed the fuck away. I didn’t enjoy it. I missed the hell out of you and I’m happy to see how much you missed me, Peaches.” He smirked.

  Her features softened and she covered her smile with her hand. The girl could bring him to his knees with just a look.

  “Fine. I forgive you.”

  He dropped down on the couch. “It won’t happen again. Can I give you your present?”

  “Yes. I can’t even imagine what you got me.”

  “Come on.” He led her out to the backyard. “Take a seat and close your eyes.”

  With her eyes squeezed shut, and a smile spread across her face, she held both hands out. “I’m ready. You better not be naked.”

  He laughed, placed the package in her hands, and took the seat beside her. Daisy ran out to play in the grass. “Open it.”

  She tore at the paper, like a tiger mauling its prey. She blinked several times and looked up at him. “Noooooooo.”

  “Yes.” He laughed.

  “No. How?”

  “I’m that good. And it’s as much a gift for me as it is for you. I’m dying to see you twirl some fire, Peaches.” He sat back in his chair, stretched his legs out, and crossed his ankles.

  “A freakin’, flamin’ baton,” she said.

  “Come on, let me see you do your thing.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Dead serious.” The thought of Elle Fiore flinging her flaming baton in the air—it was something he had to see.

  She walked over to him and snatched his phone. “I need music. You can’t do a routine without music.”

  “Obviously,” he said, and prepared for the best thing he’d ever seen.

  She pulled an elastic from her wrist and tied her hair back in a low ponytail. She hit play on some techno, fast-paced beat, and stood fifteen feet from him. She lit the baton on both ends using the little lighter it came with, and in a matter of seconds, she transformed into a full-fledged professional baton twirler. Flames blazed on each side.

  “Holy shit.” And he swore something lit inside him.

  Her face flushed and her gaze in full concentration—the most magnificent thing he’d ever seen. Her moves were as good as any professional cheerleader, but with the added thrill of launching a blazing stick into the air and catching it. Over and fucking over.

  She caught it while down in the splits.

  Balanced it on her head.

  Twirled it while doing a cartwheel.

  “You’re like a fucking Las Vegas Cirque De Solei show,” he whispered. A fiery fucking acrobat, who had somehow weaseled her way into his heart. Hell, he’d been consumed with her for longer than he wanted to admit. Long before he hired her, back when she hated him. He wanted her. Even when he pushed her away. But something had shifted. She knew about his secret and she didn’t care. He’d spent the last forty-eight hours analyzing the shit out of it. And for the first time in his life, there was something worth going out on a limb for, and it didn’t involve football.

  By the time the flames burned out, she panted from exertion. Her wide smile lit up the night’s sky. He swore she got more beautiful each time he saw her.

  He clapped, slow, deliberate, and took her in. “Fucking perfection, Peaches.”

  Her head fell back, and laughter bellowed from her hot little body. “You really liked it?”

  “There are not enough words to describe how much I liked it.”

  She bent over her knees to catch her breath. “I can’t believe you found a flaming baton for me.”

  “You should never be without one,” he said. “Come on, let’s go in and grab you a water. That was some serious cardio.”

  She followed him inside. Her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, and he glanced down and saw Edward’s name.

  Fucker.

  “Count-Pain-in-the-Ass is calling. Again.” He didn’t hide his irritation when he handed her a glass of cold water.

  “What’s your problem with him?” she said before guzzling her drink after she spoke.

  “I don’t like him. I don’t think you should go tomorrow.” He followed her into the family room, and she plopped down on the couch.

  “Yes, you’ve mentioned it. But you haven’t said why. I can’t read your mind, Maverick. You ignore me for two days, and now you don’t want me to go home for the weekend?” Her gaze locked with his.

  He ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to do this. Didn’t know how to tell her he wanted her all to himself.

  “Do you want to get back together with him?”

  “No. I’m going as a friend.”

  “But you know he wants you back, so why go?”

  “Why do you care?” She licked her lips, arms crossed in front of her chest in challenge.

  “Well, what happens to us, you and me, if you get back together with the guy? Hell, what happens when we go back to our regular lives?”

  She sank her teeth into her perfectly plump bottom lip. “What do you want to happen?”

  Shit. What did he want? He wanted her. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  She rolled her eyes and stood. “Don’t ask me not to go, and not to see him, when you don’t have a damn clue what you want.”

  She stormed toward the door, but he was on his feet before she got far. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and turned her to face him. He may not know how to say it, but he damn well knew how to show her what he wanted.

  “Why is it only up to me? What do you want?” His eyes were hard on her.

  She squared her shoulders and shook her head. “You know what I want.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me.” The words more of a command than he intended.

  “I want everything,” she said just above a whisper.

  “I don’t know what that means.” He wanted to be honest, but she shook her head and yanked her arm away.

  “Let me go. You’re a coward, Wallace. You know exactly what it means.” She marched toward the front door.

  He reached for her arm once again, his voice louder now. “Oh no you don’t, Peaches. You don’t get to run away and hate me because we aren’t the same. We don’t all have goddamn unicorn blood running through our veins and believe in fairy-tales. I don’t have a white horse, and I’m not perfect, as you so happily pointed out earlier.”

  She stilled, her back pressed to the wall beside the door. Her breaths came fast. “Well, excuse me for knowing better than anyone what an ass you are.”

  “Then you know what you’re getting into. What’s the problem then?” He studied her.

  Her words were angry, but her body leaned closer to his. Her face flushed, she licked her lips and he closed his eyes to control the raging erection beneath his zipper.

  “The problem is, you don’t know what you want.
”

  “There’s never been a doubt about what I want.” He moved so close, her breath heated his neck.

  “Humor me.” Her gaze searched his.

  “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

  “Just for sex.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  He moved closer. Crowded her. “Not just for sex.”

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip again, almost undoing him.

  “Then for what?”

  He took his thumb and released her lip. Traced it back and forth while he stared down at her. “I want you so fucking bad, Peaches. I don’t know what it means. I’m not good at this. I know it’s more than sex because I can have sex with plenty of women, but I only want you.”

  She gasped and pushed her hands hard against his chest. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

  He moved into her again, trapped her between the wall and his big body. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. I love being with you. I love talking to you. Running with you. Eating with you. Watching you work. Hell, I love watching you twirl a fucking flaming baton. I don’t want to have sex with anyone else, I only want you. Only you, Peaches.”

  She didn’t speak. For the first fucking time since he met her, the girl was speechless. He took advantage of the moment and wrapped his hand behind her neck and pulled her closer. Her head fell back, she arched her chest toward him, and tangled her hands into his hair.

  His mouth covered hers, as an electric current surged through his body. Every muscle coming to life as desire flooded his veins. A need and hunger so unfamiliar, it was almost blinding. Her tongue tangled with his, so sweet and perfect. He tipped her back, deepening the kiss. Her hot breathy pants against his mouth only fueled him more.

  She grinded against him mercilessly. My God, this woman was made for him. She fit perfectly against his body, her soft, sensuous touch lighting him on fire.

  “Fuck, Peaches. I want you so bad.”

  She pulled his head down further and tugged his hair as their kiss grew urgent. She nipped at his bottom lip, and he growled, pressing her deeper into the wall. Making sure she felt how bad he wanted her. Needed her. One hand slipped under her thin tank top, desperate to touch her. He’d fantasized about this since the day he’d met her, yet this far exceeded anything he could have imagined. He teased her, as his fingers grazed over her bra.