by Laura Kaye
Dare peeled at the label on his beer bottle. “She’s been at Slider’s place watching the boys. He got in a jam because the lady who usually watches Sam and Ben has been sick.”
“Huh. Kinda awesome of her to help out like that,” Maverick said. Sam “Slider” Evans was a longtime member who’d lost his wife to breast cancer three years before. As far as Maverick could tell, the old Slider they’d all known—the one who’d wiped out on his bike without injuring himself or his ride and got up laughing about it—no longer existed and never would. The guy’s pain was so tangible that he wore it like a shadow. He hadn’t attended Church on Thursday or participated in their ride to Baltimore that next night, and Mav hadn’t been the least surprised at either. His two boys seemed to be the only thing that kept him functioning.
“That’s for damn sure.” Dare nodded, his concern about Slider clear in his expression. “Haven said Cora’s happy to do it. And I appreciate the hell out of anything that takes even a little weight off of Slider’s shoulders.”
“Damn straight,” Maverick said. And the fact that Cora was doing just that was one more reason to like her.
Dare shifted and propped his boots up on a table, his ankles crossed. “I’m thirty-fucking-seven, Maverick. I didn’t think anything like what I have with Haven would happen for me. In fact, I was sure it wouldn’t.”
Maverick sagged back, his hands clasped across his stomach. “Yeah.”
“Hey,” Dare said, tagging his arm. “You get what I’m saying?”
Frowning, Mav just stared at the guy. He wasn’t the slightest bit interested in having this conversation.
Rolling his eyes, Dare nailed him with a pointed stare. “When you gonna fight for what you want?”
Like it was that easy. “Come on, D.” Maverick looked away, not wanting his cousin to see the resentment he probably wore for even bringing it up. For making Maverick confront yet again the fact that he’d given his heart to someone who didn’t want it. And he couldn’t seem to get it back.
Dare heaved a belabored breath. “Fine. I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t. Let’s move on to religion or politics or something.” Because hell if he wanted to keep pricking at all the sore places inside himself.
“All right,” Dare said, and the concern and resignation in his voice was a total kick in the ass. But whatever. Mav’s life was what it fucking was. And for the most part, it was good. Damnit, before Alexa had shown up the week before last, he probably would’ve said it was great. This place, these men, Bunny and Rodeo and Doc and Dare—this was Maverick’s home, his family. He didn’t need a woman to give him a sense of belonging.
He really didn’t.
And it made him resent her for stirring up all this shit for him again after so long. For reminding him of the feeling he’d battled five years before that a part of him had died and been put in the ground right alongside Tyler. Because he’d lost his friend. And then he’d lost his woman. And his love for her had been killing him ever since.
That resentment? That was good. He clutched onto it. Because it was a helluva lot easier to be angry than to be hurt. It was that anger that had him making a resolution, one that self-preservation meant he was gonna have to stick to once and for fucking all.
He’d do right by Tyler’s memory and the history he shared with Alexa and keep an eye out for her as much as he could. Just in case his gut was reading things right. But in thirteen days, she’d be walking down an aisle and into another man’s arms.
Which meant Maverick had just under two weeks to let Alexa Harmon go. For good. Because he couldn’t keep wanting something he could never have.
CHAPTER 11
The gown was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Alexa had ever seen. Standing on the raised step in front of the angled mirrors, Alexa couldn’t stop admiring her wedding dress. It had a voluminous A-line skirt made of tulle, a long chapel train, a satin bodice with a flattering sweetheart neckline, and a wide champagne-colored ribbon at the waist. Classic. Romantic. Ungodly expensive, but Grant wanted to spare no expense on their wedding.
Pick something beautiful. Something that will make me proud.
That’s what he’d told her as she’d set out to shop for a dress, a personal shopper he’d hired at her side. The woman had steered Alexa away from what she’d deemed the pedestrian dresses to more exclusive, one-of-a-kind designer gowns—following instructions Grant had apparently given her. He wanted their wedding to be the swankiest social event Western Maryland had ever seen. And since so many business associates would be there, she understood why, even though all of it was so much more than what she needed to be happy. Alexa had dreamed of having a beautiful wedding as much as any other woman, but it was the marriage that came after and the joy of building a life together that was most important to her. Because she wanted what her own parents never seemed to have had.
The seamstress inspected each alteration she’d made and frowned as she examined the hidden back zipper. “It is a little snug here,” she said, running her fingers down Alexa’s spine.
The French fries Alexa had gotten at the drive-thru on the way to the fitting sat like a rock in her stomach. Snug . . . because she’d been eating junk food nonstop the past three days. Ever since having sex with Grant in the bathroom at the inn had left her feeling so strange. So unsettled. So . . . unsure.
Even more than she’d already been. She just wasn’t sure if she was making something out of nothing. Or allowing Grant to walk all over me, a little voice whispered.
The older woman met Alexa’s eyes in the mirror. “Hmm. Maybe I should—”
“Don’t worry,” Alexa said, shaking her head and putting on a smile despite the tendril of panic snaking through her veins. “We just did some celebrating this past weekend. I overindulged a little. But it’ll be fine by the wedding.” Alexa would make sure of it. Grant wanted everything to be perfect—including her. Maybe even especially her. And she certainly wouldn’t make him proud if she was busting out the seams of her six-thousand-dollar gown.
So stupid. Why hadn’t she thought more about the fitting today?
“Okay, then. If you’re sure,” the seamstress said with a smile. “Let’s get this off of you. You’re all set.”
An hour later, Alexa was back at the office, that rock still heavy in her stomach.
“Hey, sweetie,” Christina Lee said from behind the ornate reception desk as Alexa entered the building. Alexa and Christina had started working at Slater Enterprises at nearly the same time—about a month before Tyler’s death, and they’d been friendly ever since. Friendly enough that Alexa had asked her to be her maid of honor, and Christina had agreed. They might’ve even become much closer, but Grant’s pursuit of Alexa back then seemed to have scared some people off of befriending her, like they were afraid Alexa might report back on them to the big boss. But that was better than the people who resented her for their relationship. “How’d the fitting go?”
Alexa leaned against the high desk. “Good. It’s so gorgeous I can barely stand it.”
“Of course it is,” Christina said, grinning. “Less than two weeks now.”
Something which should’ve unleashed excitement inside of her, but . . . didn’t. “I can hardly believe it,” she said, forcing a smile of her own.
“What’s left on the list that I can help with?” she asked.
“Honestly, not too much. I visited the venue yesterday and confirmed the menu and did a little shopping last night. So things are on track, but let me check with Grant about his schedule. We should get together for dinner one night this week.” Assuming he had a late meeting so she wasn’t taking time away from him.
“You know I’d love that,” Christina said. A phone call came in through the switchboard. “Oh, duty beckons.”
Alexa gave a little wave and made her way to her office on the second floor. She probably ought to search out Betsy, Maggie, and Ellen, other lunch friends at work who had agreed to be bridesmaids,
to keep them in the loop of wedding goings-on, but she found that she wasn’t as up to it as she wanted to be. There’d be other chances to tell them about her fun weekend and the amazing party favors that’d finally come in and just how gorgeous her dress really was another day this week.
Instead, she dropped into the chair at her desk and threw herself into reviewing the construction punch list from the model home she was decorating. The place was amazing—the kind of home she’d always dreamed of living in. Spacious and light and airy, comfortable and well designed, chic without being stuffy. She’d spent the morning on-site doing a walk-through with the foreman and compiling the list which noted incomplete installations that needed to be corrected and incidental damage that needed to be fixed. Furniture to stage the model would be arriving this Thursday, so she was hoping the guys would work through most of the list before the deliveries began. All of which was leading up to her deadline next Wednesday to have the place ready for Grant’s stamp of approval. That gave her eight days. And today was half gone.
Her gaze slipped to the clock display at the bottom corner of her computer screen. Maybe I should skip class tonight.
She twisted her lips as she debated, and quickly ruled it out. It might only be her one-credit professional development course, but she was already going to miss one class during their honeymoon. And since the class only met once a week, not going would be the equivalent of missing a whole week’s worth of material.
Knock, knock.
Grant stepped into her office wearing an exquisitely cut navy blue suit, his hand behind his back. “Alexa.”
“Oh, hey,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure if you were back yet.” She’d known he had plans this morning to be out of the office inspecting an apartment complex he was considering buying and rehabbing. Alexa got up and came around her desk to him.
“I am, though I have another meeting off-site shortly. But I wanted to catch you before you left for class,” he said. “And I brought you something.” He handed her a single long-stemmed red rose.
The gesture reached right inside her chest. “Aw, Grant. This is so sweet,” she said. It was just the pick-me-up she needed. She grasped the flower and brought the velvety petals to her nose. “Thank you.”
“Anything and everything for you, babe. You know that.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her lips. And then his mouth came down on hers as his body boxed her in against the desk. Alexa’s gaze strayed to her open office door and she ignored her discomfort over the possibility that someone might see them. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t know they were together, but Alexa still didn’t like to flaunt it in front of their colleagues. It was one of the reasons she still drove herself to work, and definitely why she’d refused a bigger office in the executive suite. What she got here at work, she wanted to have earned. Maybe she’d feel differently after they were married. Or maybe not. Just when she was going to pull away, Grant did instead. “Any chance I can talk you into staying home tonight?” he asked, a mischievous smile on his face.
“I wish. But I don’t want to get behind before we leave on our honeymoon. Then I’m all yours.” She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek. “Thank you again for the rose. You made my day.”
He stepped away and smoothed a hand down over his red silk tie. “Just as well, I suppose. The mayor’s having a reception, and I should probably put in some face time.”
“He’s a good friend to you,” Alexa said. “So go and enjoy. I won’t stay after, though. I’ll come right home.”
“You do that,” Grant said as he stepped to the door and made to leave. Then he peered back in, his smile sexy and playful. “I’ll be waiting.”
Alexa grinned as Grant left, pulling the door shut behind him. He could be so charming, so attentive, so thoughtful—qualities that had attracted her from the beginning. She hadn’t realized how much she needed that side of him today. And it made her want to show him how grateful she was.
Which made her even more eager to have class over with.
But, fine, she’d go. At least now she had something to look forward to when she got home.
TIRED FROM CLASS and from driving home in the pounding rain, Alexa came in through the garage door to the dark kitchen and dumped her purse and messenger bag on the counter. Seeing Grant would make her feel better. Hands free, she flicked on the light.
“Grant? I’m home,” she called. Her gaze snagged on the desk built into one wall of the kitchen because . . . it was totally reorganized. The mail had been sorted by size, shape, and color, the edges of the envelopes lined up exactly parallel to the edge of the desktop. The pins in the corkboard were all in neat rows, sorted by color. Grant did things like that every once in a while, but she’d learned to just take it in stride after asking about it had once caused an argument.
She turned to find Lucy curling her sleek body around the corner of the island, meowing a greeting at her.
“Hi, baby,” Alexa said, crouching to give her little one some love. Sometimes it seemed that Lucy was the most dog-like cat Alexa had ever known. Lucy came when Alexa got home and when she called. She loved to play. Was generous with her affection. And pretty much always wanted to be where Alexa was.
So as Alexa went in search of Grant, Lucy padded behind her. The house felt unusually still. Quiet. The steady drumming of the rain on the roof was the only sound she heard. Grant wasn’t in the living room, nor the media room, nor their bedroom. She knocked on his mostly open office door. “Grant?” she said as she peered into the darkness. His car was in the garage, so he had to be here somewhere. Her heart tripped into a sprint as worry lanced through her.
The chair at his carved mahogany desk sat empty.
Lucy hung back in the hallway as Alexa made her way across the room, turned on the desk lamp, and pulled her cell out of her back pocket.
“Just who is it you’re calling?” came a voice from behind her.
Alexa nearly screamed. She jumped and whirled, her heart in her throat, the phone clutched tight in her hand. “Grant! Oh, my God. You scared me. Are you okay?” She rushed across the room to where he sat in the big wing-back leather chair in the corner. Leaning over him, she cupped his face in her hand. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
He stared down at a tumbler in his hand that Alexa hadn’t noticed he was holding. Bourbon, if she had to guess. A quick glance to the Chippendale table next to the chair revealed a mostly empty bottle. His lips pressed into a tight line and his brow slashed downward. He tilted the glass in his hand as if watching the amber liquid was somehow mesmerizing. When he finally peered up at her, it was as if he’d turned into another man.
Grant’s expression was like a storm descending—dark, twisted, calculating. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked, the words gritty and harsh.
“Find out what?” she asked, her thoughts frozen, her stomach dropping.
“Don’t play coy with me, Alexa,” he said, batting her hand away from his face.
Stepping back, Alexa shook her head, dread a living thing inside her. “Grant, I don’t—”
“Don’t fucking deny it!” he roared, lunging up from his chair. He grabbed her by the biceps and got right in her face.
“Grant, stop. Deny what? What happened?” she asked as she curled in on herself. His fingers dug into her arms like hooks.
He shoved her free and brushed his hands down his shirt as if to straighten himself, and then he glared at her. “How do you think it felt to have one of the sheriffs tell me, in front of the mayor, that he saw you riding on the back of Maverick Rylan’s motorcycle? A goddamned degenerate Raven Rider piece of shit.” He spoke with a quiet reserve that was somehow scarier than when he’d raised his voice.
Alexa broke out in a cold sweat as nausea swept through her. “I . . . I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.”
She shook her head and held out her hands. “It was innocent. He was helping me—”
“Oh, I’l
l bet. I know exactly what Rylan wants to help you with.” He picked up his glass off the carpet and poured just enough bourbon in it to finish in one big gulp. She hadn’t even seen the glass fall, he’d moved so fast.
Alexa’s mouth was so dry it was hard to talk. “He rode by my mom’s house on Saturday morning and happened to see me hauling trash to the curb. I was doing some cleaning for her, and I wanted to get rid of the garbage instead of letting it sit there in a big pile. He offered to get his truck to take the stuff to the dump for me. That’s all.”
“What do you take me for, Alexa?” he asked.
“I don’t . . . Nothing. It’s true. I only went with him to get his truck because things had been really tense with Mom and I wanted a break before we got into an argument. You know how she is,” Alexa pleaded, her head spinning, her heart thundering in her chest.
“Oh, I do. I live with her daughter, after all.” He chuffed out a humorless laugh and shook his head. Paced back to the table and poured himself more liquor.
His words hit her like a body slam, knocking the breath out of her. Regret and guilt twisted inside her. “That’s all that happened. He was just helping me.”
Grant turned to her and glared, his face flushed. From anger or the alcohol, Alexa wasn’t sure. “You made a fucking fool of me. Twice. First, by parading around town with a known criminal. And second, when I refuted the sheriff’s words, saying, oh, no, that must’ve been someone else because Alexa was at her mother’s. Only to have Davis insist he’d seen your face clearly while you’d been waiting at a red light on 15. Hanging all over another man.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, tears pricking at the backs of her eyes. “It didn’t mean anything. He used to be very close to my mother because of how long he and Tyler had been friends. He was just helping. That’s all it was.” She heaved a breath, trying to calm herself down, trying to keep everything from falling apart.
