by Laura Pavlov
“Jackson said your dad and a few guys from the firehouse went to practice the other day to watch him play.” Peyton smiled.
“Yeah, my dad loves him. Speaking of football and the first game next week—Maverick gave me one of his jerseys to wear to the game. But it’s kind of, I don’t know, plain? I told him I wanted to get his number covered in Swarovski crystals, and the man all but fell over laughing. He said you can’t put jewels on a jersey. Apparently—it’s sacrilege. He makes fun of all my rules but try to add a little sparkle to his jersey and he’s up in arms. What does one even wear to a football game? In college all the girls wore cheerleading skirts to the games. Those are pretty cute.”
“I will literally drop your ass at the curb if you get in my car wearing a cheerleading skirt on gameday. Because guess who wears cheer skirts?” Dani clucked her tongue.
“Who?”
“The cheerleaders, you fool. This is the pros, not college. It’s T-shirts, jeans, and baseball caps. You eat hotdogs and drink beer.” Dani looked at Peyt. “Um, feel free to jump in anytime.”
Peyton chuckled. “Take it easy, Bader Ginsburg. No one is dropping anyone at the curb. You could bedazzle a baseball cap. Put a little sparkle on your head. And we know how much you love hotdogs and beer.”
“Okay, I can work with this.” Elle nodded. Her stomach rumbled at the mention of hotdogs.
“Jackson said we’re all going to be up in the box with Maverick’s family for the game?” Peyton asked.
“Yes. Even Mimi, his grandmother is coming. I can’t wait to see her. The whole family will be there. My dad and Billy Goat are coming too. Should be lots of fun. And an oversized jersey may not be the most fashionable thing but being wrapped in Maverick’s number makes up for it,” Elle said.
“Good Lord, you’re like a living, breathing fairy-tale,” Dani said, with a big grin spread across her face.
She didn’t know if it was true, but she sure seemed to be living one these days. But everything could all change tonight depending on how open Mama was to meeting Maverick. He wouldn’t be the first person to turn tail and run.
****
“You look gorgeous, baby,” Maverick said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle.
She leaned back against him. Mint and sandalwood enveloped her senses. Something about his nearness always settled her. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re coming with me.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“You’re not nervous about meeting them?”
“Nope.”
Damn, the man never let things get to him.
“How do you not let things stress you out?”
“Because I don’t give a shit who likes me, as long as you do,” he said against her ear, and her lady parts went into overdrive.
She turned in his arms, kissed his neck just beneath his throat. Her lips ran along his rugged scruff. Her breathing came hard and fast. It didn’t take much with this man.
“Well, lucky for you, I’m crazy about you.” She pushed on her tiptoes and kissed him.
“Crazy about you, too, Peaches.” One hand tangled in her hair and the other dropped beneath the hem of her dress. His hand settled on her leg, teasing, and taunting as it moved further up her inner thigh.
“We need to go. We’re going to be late.” Her head fell back on a gasp.
“They can wait. Let me make you feel good, baby. I don’t like seeing you so stressed.” His mouth covered hers and his fingers slipped beneath her lace panties.
Oh. My. God.
They were going to be late to meet her mother and Winston, yet she didn’t move. Couldn’t if she wanted to. Maverick’s touch soothed her worries—amongst other things.
****
“We’re so late. My mother despises tardiness,” Elle said, pulling him along the sidewalk toward the swanky restaurant.
“Well, if Winston did to her what I just did to you, she might not mind being a few minutes late to dinner.” The man loved to tease her. Her face heated at his words. She swore he had a playbook for her body. Knew what to do, all the freaking time.
“Hush it, Wallace. You can’t use your dirty mouth in front of Mama. She finds sexy talk inappropriate.” Her heels clicked against the sidewalk. Thankful she chose her white eyelet spaghetti strap dress in this unusual heat wave. The setting sun decorated the sky in red and orange hues. The street bustled with people heading out for the evening.
He laughed, and his hand snaked around her waist. “It’s a good thing I won’t be doing any sexy talk with your mother then.”
“Thank goodness. The woman is not easy to please.”
“You guys have been on the outs since the pageant?” He intertwined his fingers with hers which calmed her fury.
“Honestly, ever since my dad took Mama to court when I was twelve years old and filed a request to change my name legally, our relationship was forever damaged.” A lump formed in her throat. The memory a dagger to her heart.
“What do you mean? Why did she blame you?”
“The judge asked my opinion on the matter. I said I understood my father’s desire for me to legally be Elle Fiore. I suggested my middle name become Humphries. Elle Humphries Fiore. It seemed like a fair compromise. It allowed my dad one small victory against my overpowering mother.” Her pace quickened when she spotted the restaurant a few feet ahead.
“Seems fair. You honored both Winston and your dad.”
“Yeah, seems logical. Keep in mind I was only twelve. I answered the judge honestly. But back home, the last name Humphries means something. Winston comes from old Southern money, and his lineage holds a lot of clout. When I was supposed to be presented as a debutante years later, all sorts of gossip broke out about my father’s lack of Southern roots. Being a fireman with the last name Fiore didn’t impress the haughty women in Mama’s social circle. She fought to have Winston present me to society, but it would have been a slap in my dad’s face. I chose to walk away and went back to college without my Savannah debutante cotillion title, which was the beginning of the end for Mama and me. And then I lost the Miss Georgia contest—you can’t imagine the disappointment.”
He held the door open for her, and as she walked in, he stopped her. “You’re a flame thrower, Peaches. You’re not afraid to stand up for what you know is right. No one should be disappointed about that.”
He kissed her, nipped at her bottom lip, and led her inside. The hostess ogled her boyfriend before guiding them to their table. Soft classical music played in the background, and the smell of French bread and garlic filtered through the air. Mama and Winston set down their wine glasses when she and Maverick approached. Her stepfather’s face lit up. Winston had always treated her like the brightest star in the sky. Maybe it was to overcompensate for Mama’s disappointment. Winston sent her two arrangements of fresh flowers every month. Like clockwork. One to her office and the other to her condo, all because after graduating from design school she told him how every room needed something living, something fresh, to bring it to life.
He jumped to his feet. Standing only a few inches taller than Elle, her stepfather wasn’t a big man. His gray hair combed back neatly; his black suit fit to perfection. He came around the table and embraced her. “So nice to see you, my darling.”
“You too, Dad.” The way she saw it, she was lucky to have two great fathers in her life. “Maverick, this is my dad, Winston.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, sir,” Maverick said, shaking his hand.
“Thank you, young man. Please, call me Winston. I look forward to seeing you play this season. Always been a Falcon’s fan, but I reckon it’s time to change things up.” Winston’s grin spread clear across his face.
“Nonsense, if we switch who we cheer for every time Elle has a whim, we won’t make it through a season.” Her mother stood and raised a brow in challenge.
Her boyfriend stiffened beside her.
Buckle up, handsome. We haven�
��t even scratched the surface.
Maverick was striking in his gray button up and dark jeans. He’d made an effort to be here tonight. She knew he was exhausted from two-a-day practice. His wavy hair tousled around his handsome bronzed face. His concerned gaze locked with Elle’s. She wanted to lean into him and let him wrap her up in a safe little cocoon. Instead, she straightened her shoulders. “Hello, Mama. I see you still have a sense of humor.”
“I don’t have much of a choice keeping up with you, now do I?” She leaned in for a quick hug, followed by an air kiss. Heaven forbid she smudge her ruby red lipstick showing real affection. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a perfect chignon. Always polished. Always poised. Her black cocktail dress fit her slim frame like a glove and ended beneath the knee.
“Mom, this is my boyfriend, Maverick Wallace. Maverick, this is my mama, Caroline Humphries.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Maverick extended his hand.
“Ah, yes, the boyfriend,” she said. Elle cringed at her rude tone.
They took their seats and Winston spoke first. “I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of ordering a nice bottle of red.”
“Of course not, thank you.” Elle licked her lips, tension crackling around them. Mama clearly didn’t want to be here. Winston must have forced the issue.
“You didn’t give us much of a choice with you showing up late,” Mama said, and Elle reached for her water glass.
“My apologies for being late. It was my fault. I needed to give Elle a hand with something, and I think I slowed her down in the end.”
Elle spattered the large sip of water all over the table and coughed uncontrollably. Maverick remained calm and collected and patted her on the back until she gathered herself.
“You okay, Peaches?” His hand settled on her thigh beneath the table. The bastard was going to torture her until she relaxed.
She leaned back against her chair. “Never better.”
“It’s a bit soon for nicknames, no?” Her mother’s tone full of judgment and disapproval, yet so familiar she almost laughed.
“Yes. We’ve been together for a while now, but Maverick actually called me Peaches before we started dating.” Elle smiled, meeting Mama’s icy blue stare.
“It suits you. Peaches, I mean. It’s sweet.” Winston winked, and gave her mother a stern look.
“All right, then. Maverick tell us about yourself. We know you play football. Where are you from?” Mama extended a bit of an olive branch, yet her tone always managed to sound condescending.
“I grew up in Lake Tahoe, most of my family is still back there. I have a house in South Lake. Elle actually transformed the place over the summer. We’ll have to show you some pictures.”
“Well, that’s a surprise.” Mama gaped.
“That I have a place in Tahoe?” Maverick didn’t hide his confusion.
“No. I assume football players make good money while they’re playing, so I’m sure affording a lake house right now isn’t a problem. But I wouldn’t have guessed you were from Lake Tahoe.”
“Really. Why?” Her boyfriend’s voice clipped. Serious.
Mama’s gaze slowly perused him in all his beautiful glory. “You’re—very tan. I assumed you were from another country. You know, a foreigner.”
Elle’s back stiffened. She wanted to climb over the table and strangle the woman. Mama was deliberately trying to make him uncomfortable.
Maverick took a sip of water and his hand found hers under the table. “I’m actually from Brazil. My family adopted me when I was four years old. But you didn’t ask where I was born, you asked where I was from. And like I said, I’m from Lake Tahoe.”
The waiter approached the table and they ordered dinner.
“Our girl is talented, isn’t she?” Winston lightened the mood.
“Unbelievably. At everything she does.” The way Maverick looked at her melted her heart. Literally. On one side of the table it was all shade. Cold and gray. But beside her, pure heat. Fire and warmth.
“Did you know she was Miss Savannah? Has she shared her pageant days with you?” Mama asked, and Elle stiffened. She avoided this topic with her mother whenever possible. It always ended in a fight.
Her boyfriend didn’t miss a beat. “She sure did. She’s even twirled flaming batons for me.”
Winston chuckled. “Only Elle could light two batons on fire and toss them in the air without a care in the world. I loved watching her perform. She commanded the attention of everyone in the room without even trying.”
A dull ache settled in her chest. He’d always been proud of her. Both Winston and her dad celebrated her successes. Mama used to, at least where pageants were concerned, but she couldn’t remember the last time she encouraged her at anything.
“Oh, lovely. She didn’t drop them when she performed for you, did she?” Any opportunity to go high or low, the woman always went low.
“Caroline.” Winston’s tone stern beneath his breath. Something was different between them. Her stepfather always showed Elle kindness, but he’d never gone against Mama. At least not in front of her.
“Of course, I didn’t drop them. There was nobody there to slick them with oil,” Elle hissed. Would Mama ever get over it? My God, it had been years.
“Ah, yes. The great setup. Who did you blame for the mishap? The Sandemeyer girl?”
“Suri freaking Sandemeyer, Mama. You remember her, don’t you? You pitted me against her most of my life.” She had two glasses of wine in her system now—if Mama wanted a fight, she’d damn well get one.
Chapter Twenty
Maverick’s Playbook
Protect what’s yours!
Christ, he’d never seen anything like this before. It was a shit show. Elle’s mom took shots at her daughter every chance she got. Anger radiated from the woman. Not to mention the way she sized him up. Like he was the dirt beneath her manicured fingernails. Women never looked at him with complete disgust, but she clearly wanted her daughter dating a preppy, polo playing, royal—and Maverick was anything but. All this discourse because of a pageant? It was like a bad reality show.
“So Maverick. Adopted at four years old and playing professional football now. I suppose when you look at where you started, it’s actually an accomplishment, right?” The ice queen spewed.
He laughed. Loud. Hell yeah, it was an accomplishment. Any way she wanted to look at it. “Less than one percent of kids who play ball and dream of making it to the pros, actually do, so yeah, it’s an accomplishment.”
“I wonder what the statistic is on kids not born in the United States playing professional ball? You obviously were adopted into the right family.” Her venomous words did nothing to him. He’d dealt with worse than Caroline Humphries in his life. But her being Elle’s mom complicated matters. He knew it hurt his girl, which bothered him.
“Enough, Mama.” Elle stood up, planted both hands on the table, and stared down at the older woman.
“It’s fine, Peaches. Don’t let it get to you. Sit down with me, baby.” He kept his tone calm and even. Elle took her seat beside him, her face flushed and spirit damaged. He could see it in her topaz gaze. He turned toward her mother before speaking again. “As far as your question, maybe you can write to the NFL and ask them to research the statistics of adopted kids making it to the pros. Especially us tan ones.” He winked and gulped down his water.
“I think what my wife meant to say is what an accomplishment it is to play professional football, Maverick. I was never any good at sports. Always the last one picked in P.E.” Winston chuckled. The poor guy seemed desperate to lighten the mood.
“Well, we all struggle with something, right? School didn’t come easy for me, so I know how it feels to work hard and sit the bench, metaphorically,” Maverick said.
Winston held his wine glass up and Maverick clinked his water glass in what he assumed was a toast to overcoming obstacles.
“Ah, so what happens when you’re done playing football. I
mean, you can’t play forever. You’ll play a few years, and then what? You have no income, and you’ll have to find a career at some point. Is there a plan for you and—Peaches?” Her condescending tone matched her offensive question.
“I have a plan, yes. But it doesn’t strike me as the appropriate time to discuss it, not with all this animosity. When you want to have a civil conversation about your daughter and me, give us a call.” Maverick locked stares with Caroline Humphries. The odd thing, she looked impressed for the first time tonight.
“Fair enough.” She nodded.
He glanced over at his girl, and a heavy weight settled in his chest. She was a vision in her white lacy dress. It hugged her bodice and flared out a bit at her waist, ending just above her knees. He knew exactly where her hem stopped because he’d been beneath it an hour ago. But here she sat, all prim and proper. Looking like some sort of angel. He held her hand beneath the table. Wanted to support her. She’d done so much for him in the short time they’d been together.
Hell, he’d never spent the night with a woman before her. Not the way he did with her. All night, every night. The way he liked it. He’d had one nightmare since they returned from Lake Tahoe, and seeing there were no secrets between them, they’d discussed it. They had a deal. She’d go to the guest room and not attempt to wake him. Not put herself in danger as they didn’t know what his reaction would be. He’d found her in the guest room the next morning, and she said it wasn’t as bad as the one at the lake house. She’d found a therapist she wanted him to see, some sort of doctor who specialized in night terrors and traumatic incidents. He hadn’t gone yet, had his hands full with practice and the team, and wanted to come home to his girl when he was done.
The waiter set their plates down and damn if it didn’t smell delicious. He and Winston made small talk about San Francisco’s current heat wave. Elle and her mom were quiet. It was the calm before the storm, because her mother set her utensils down and cleared her throat like she was getting ready to make an announcement. Maybe she’d apologize for being a raging bitch.
“We had lunch with Edward today. Such a lovely man.” Caroline’s gaze locked with his and she picked up her wine glass and took a long sip. So much for an apology. Jesus, she was ready for round two.
