by Laura Kaye
“Clearly,” Alexa said around her last bite, more than a little sad that her cookie was gone. Luckily, there appeared to be at least six dozen more left.
“It’s not kinda your thing,” Cora said, nailing the other woman with the kind of calling-you-on-your-bullshit stare that only a best friend can get away with. “It is your thing. Which is why you need to open your own bakery.”
“Oh, are you thinking of doing that?” Alexa asked. Because she would buy the crap out of these cookies.
Haven sighed and returned her friend’s stare in a way that suggested there was a whole lot of something Alexa didn’t know. “We’ll see. But either way, I’m not doing it tonight, so you guys take those two and I’ll take the peanut butter,” Haven said, smiling at Alexa. “They’ll love you forever.”
Cheers rose up as she and the other girls walked into the mess hall, arms laden with sugar. Alexa couldn’t help but smile as the guys thanked them and dove in like they’d never seen a cookie before. When Haven placed her plate in front of Dare, he pulled her down into his lap and gave her a big kiss that earned a round of catcalls. Dare flipped his middle finger at the room while he was still kissing her, and she finally pushed him away, laughing and shaking her head. Her face was bright red but her expression totally happy.
And Alexa . . . Alexa wanted that. So bad it made her ache.
Her eyes drifted to Maverick, who was looking at her like he was thinking the same thing. Her whole body flashed hot and everything else in the room faded away. God, what was happening between them? What could happen between them, given what a mess her life was? Would Maverick even want something with her again after what she’d done to him five years ago? She had no doubt that he’d be a friend to her. And obviously he was still attracted to her—though that had never been their problem. And it also wasn’t the same as having a relationship and trusting someone not to shut you out.
He’d given her that trust once and she’d thrown it away. And she knew him well enough to know that had to be huge to him.
“Tell me you’re going to have some dessert,” Phoenix said from the seat beside where she was standing. “Here, take a load off.” He pushed out a chair for her.
“Thanks.” Smiling, she sat and forced the thoughts away. And then she remembered something she’d seen a few weeks before. She turned to Phoenix and placed her hand on his arm. “Hey, I was really sorry to hear about your cousin.” He’d apparently died in some kind of explosion. God, the Ravens had really been through it lately, hadn’t they?
He clapped his hand atop hers. “Thanks, Al.” His voice was softer, lacking the usual Phoenix playfulness. “I appreciate that.” His brown eyes were sad for a moment, but then it was like he forced it away. Which reminded her that she wasn’t the only one going through something. You never knew what a person was carrying inside them. She thought back to being at work earlier today. No one there realized that she and Grant were imploding, at least, she didn’t think so. “Now have a cookie,” he said. “They’ll probably be gone in about thirty-five seconds.”
Grinning, she looked down the table to the plate in front of Dare. “I want to try a peanut butter.”
“Good luck with that,” Phoenix said, sniggering.
“Hey, Dare?” she said, swallowing her nerves. “May I please have one of your cookies?”
The room got quieter in a hurry, and Alexa looked around to see what’d happened. Everyone was staring at her, then Dare. She looked back to him.
The guy’s face was serious, almost stern, and he had one eyebrow cocked and his eyes locked on her. Like he wasn’t happy. Like he was pissed. And she couldn’t believe that he—
Dare grinned and laughed. “Only because you called them mine,” he said, pushing the plate to the guy next to him to pass down. Everyone burst into laughter.
Shaking her head, Alexa had to laugh, too. Because she’d totally fallen for it.
As if he’d get pissed off over a cookie. These men had their rough edges, but they were good guys. They’d always been good to Tyler and her when she’d hung out with them years before. And everything she heard about what they did for people who needed help in the community said the same, too.
Grant looked like Mr. Respectable, and yet, behind closed doors, he wasn’t a nice person and he certainly hadn’t been good for her the way she’d convinced herself he was. Meanwhile, sometimes Maverick looked like a total grease monkey and other times like a hard-ass biker who might kill you just as soon as ask your name, and yet he was a good person, a fair person, generous and kind.
Damn. She’d totally fallen for the façade, hadn’t she? For the stereotype. Not the truth.
In not much longer than thirty-five seconds, the cookies and s’mores squares were all gone, and Alexa pitched in with the dishes. Maverick and Dare hung out while they worked, helping by putting away the bigger things as the women dried them. Alexa was glad for the time to hang out with Bunny and the girls some more, because she already liked Haven a lot and Cora seemed pretty great, too. More than once, Alexa felt Maverick’s eyes on her. Sure enough, when she gave into the urge to look, he was watching her work, his expression intense and approving. She didn’t know what to make of that, except that it made her belly flip every time.
“Hey, uh, Cora?” came a deep voice from the doorway.
As the man exchanged nods with Dare and Maverick, it took Alexa a few seconds to realize who the new Raven was. Slider. Except he didn’t look anything like the person she’d known five years before. This man seemed to carry the weight of the world on his rounded shoulders. His eyes were shuttered, his mouth was set in a grim line, and his hair was much longer and hung in a manner that made her think it’d been a long time since he’d had it cut.
“Hey,” Cora said, grabbing a paper towel to dry her hands. “I can be ready in two minutes. Do you want some dinner? I can pack up something for you.”
Not quite making eye contact, Slider shook his head.
“For the boys then?” she asked.
“They had pizza,” he said, turning for the door. “I’ll be in the truck.”
Cora sighed and squeezed Haven’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” she said.
“Okay,” Haven said, her gaze equal parts sad and worried.
They were all quiet for a moment after Cora left. Dare heaved a long troubled breath. Alexa’s heart hurt for the changes she saw in Slider. She’d never known him that well, but he’d always seemed happy—good to Kim and a proud dad to their two little boys. Kim had died a few years before, but clearly he was still torn apart.
“Okay, youngins, I’m beat,” Bunny said, folding a hand towel.
“Thanks for everything, Bunny,” Dare said. “Dinner was great as usual.”
“It’s my pleasure. You boys know that. Besides, these girls did most of the work.” She pulled her purse out of a cabinet in the corner and then gave a round of hugs and kisses before she left.
“I guess we’ll head out, too,” Maverick said, clasping hands with Dare. “You need anything?”
Dare shook his head. “Everything is quiet right now, which, knock on wood, will stay that way for a while.” He rapped his fist against the closest cabinet.
“Amen to that,” Mav said. “But just ask, okay? Don’t be a fucking hero all the time.” He turned to Haven. “Make him ask me for help.”
She smiled and nodded. Dare gave him a shove. “Weren’t you leaving?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Maverick said, smiling at Alexa. “Still want to see the bike I’m working on?”
“Definitely,” Alexa said. She turned to Haven and gave her a meaningful look. “Thanks for everything.” She didn’t just mean the awesome meal, but the pep talk out on the porch, the offer of friendship.
Haven seemed to understand. “You’re welcome. Maverick has my cell phone number. Give me a call anytime.” They hugged and said their good-byes.
And then it was just her and Maverick. Well, there were some other Ravens still around as th
ey made their way through the clubhouse. But the moment Maverick placed his hand against her lower back, he was the only man Alexa could think about.
The only man she wanted.
CHAPTER 17
As they walked across the darkening parking lot to the chop shop, the evening air still warm, Maverick felt a little like he’d traveled back in time. Alexa was here. Hanging with him and his brothers. And it felt good, natural, right.
Only tonight had actually been better and worse. Better because Maverick was older now, old enough to know what he actually wanted out of life, old enough to know that he didn’t want to come home to an empty house forever, old enough to understand down to his marrow how important family was—and that he wanted one of his own. He hadn’t understood all of that five years ago. Not really. Not enough to fight for it the way he should’ve. Not enough to man up when she’d all but asked him to.
Not enough to ask her what he should’ve asked her.
Damnit. Why hadn’t he fought for her—for them—harder? Why hadn’t he laid it all on the line and gotten down on one knee? Especially when he’d known that in her grief over losing Tyler she wasn’t strong enough to do it herself. But then watching her head get turned by Slater had fucked with his head. Maverick had let that shit happen. So that was on him.
At the same time, the night was worse because Mav had no fucking idea whether Alexa wanted any of that in return—with him. Sure, the chemistry between them was still off the charts. And the sex this morning had been phenomenal. Even better than he remembered it from before, and before had been fantastic. Worse because seeing Alexa at the clubhouse only made Maverick want her more, want her to see what he saw, want her for his, for keeps, forever.
And he knew it wasn’t fair to even expect her to know what she wanted from or with him. Not when she was only a day into the implosion of the life she’d thought she wanted. There was no reason why she’d feel the same urgency he did. The urgency not to make the same mistake again, the urgency to hold tight and never let go. No matter how rough the ride got this time.
All of which meant it was going to fucking suck if he turned out to be her rebound man. And only her rebound man. And Maverick knew there was a chance that’s all he was.
But, fuck, if that’s all he could have of her, he’d take it. And deal with the fallout later.
The chop shop was a long building with four bay doors and an office at one end. He pushed in through the office door and hit the lights. The two desks in the room were primarily his and Phoenix’s, though others used them sometimes. But this wasn’t where Maverick did the lion’s share of his nine-to-five. Instead, the last of the bays was his most regular domain. Kicking on lights as they went, he led Alexa through the shop past bikes other Ravens were working on to his space, separated from the rest by a cinder block wall. A sign over the door they walked through was the same as one that hung above the outside bay door and read, Maverick Custom Cycles.
“Everything looks the same,” Alexa said, slowly glancing around the room. She shook her head.
“What?” he asked, trying to see what she was seeing, trying to understand where her head was.
She gave a little shrug. “Standing here . . .” She cleared her throat and met his gaze. And damn if her eyes weren’t a little glassy. “It feels like I was just here. And it also feels like I’ve lived a whole lifetime since I was last here. I don’t know.” She looked away and moved closer to the bike he was working on.
So her head was kicking around some of the thoughts his was, then.
He watched her move around his space, liking seeing her there. How many hours had they spent here together? Her keeping him company when he was up late finishing something on deadline. Her singing along to the radio. Him teaching her about bikes and engines the way he’d been taught, and her being genuinely interested, asking a million and a half questions.
Them not being able to keep their hands off of each other, even when there were guys out in the rest of the shop working.
Heat rushed through his veins at the stream of memories that played against his mind’s eye.
“I love the copper,” she said, walking around the bike, running her fingers over the smooth, mirrored surface. “That really looks sharp. Kinda vintage.”
She’d always gotten his love for making something custom, unique, one-of-a-kind. Even when she hadn’t known what the parts were called or what they even did, she’d had a great eye for what looked good.
Unlike her, he’d been around engines since he was a kid. He’d known the names of car parts before he’d been old enough to drive, courtesy of his mechanic father, who’d specialized in customizing trucks. Still did. Not that Maverick had seen him in a long time, because he avoided the sonofabitch as much as possible. It’d been the better part of a year since they’d last run into each other. Which was too recent for Mav’s taste.
But the love of engines, of building and rebuilding, of putting your own custom spin on something? Yeah, he had to credit that to his old man. At least he had one positive thing that the guy did that he could point to.
Motorcycles, though . . . that he’d learned from Doc. Maverick had spent a lot of time with his uncle growing up, and Doc didn’t believe in idle hands. Never had.
“Yeah, vintage is the goal,” Maverick said, moving closer. The bike stood between them. “The base was actually a 2004 Chevy, but it’s been reengineered so heavily you’d never know. The goal is something similar to a 1950s hot rod style chopper.”
She grinned, her eyes flashing.
“What?” he asked, her smile beckoning his.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you talk bike makes and models.” Her smile got considerably sadder.
In a weird way, that gave him hope. “Too long?” he asked. Pushing her. Just a little.
“Too long,” she said. “Definitely too long.” She turned away like maybe the admission had been a lot to make. But that didn’t take away from the satisfaction he felt. Not one bit.
She wandered around the space a little, looking at a couple of decorative ornaments he had laying on one counter. Leaning in close to some photographs he had pinned to a corkboard. And coming to—
Shit. Why hadn’t he thought about this?
“What’s this one?” she asked, her hand grabbing the dusty drop cloth covering the bike.
“Alexa, don’t—”
The black cloth puddled on the floor around Tyler’s repaired bike. In the months after her brother died, but before it was clear that Alexa wasn’t going to take Maverick back, he’d fixed the bike. It had felt like a way for him to pay respect to his friend, and he’d thought Alexa could sell the bike if she didn’t want the reminder. He knew she could use the money. At least, back then. But he never even got the chance to offer.
Shit.
“This is . . . is this . . .” She shook her head, her back still to him. “It’s Tyler’s.” She said her brother’s name so low Mav barely heard it.
“Yeah,” he said, coming up behind her and aching for opening her up to this right now.
“You fixed it?”
He hated that he couldn’t read the emotion in her voice, and finally gave in to the need to see her face. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to him. “Yeah,” he said, leaning down to meet her eye to eye.
“Why?” she whispered, those pretty hazel eyes glassy—and that glassiness gutted him.
“For him,” he said. A tear finally fell, and he caught it with his thumb. “And for you.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “But I . . . I hurt you.” More tears fell.
He wasn’t going to deny it. “You did.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her face crumpling. “I was such a wreck when he died.” She shook her head. “And I made so many mistakes. And pushing you away was the biggest of them all. And I’m so fucking sorry, Maverick.” She clasped her hand over a sob.
He pulled her into his chest, wrapped one arm around her back, and
cradled her head in his other hand. “I know, Al. I get it. And I did then, even though I hated it.” And, fuck, but hearing her words made him rage, too. Because he’d let himself be pushed away, hadn’t he? He’d known she was a wreck, but hadn’t done the hard work to stick it out and carry her through.
God, why hadn’t he seen how much she needed him? Because hearing her now, it was so damn clear that he’d failed her.
And Tyler.
“I’m sorry, too,” he said, his voice like gravel. Her tears scalded him with guilt and regret, but he’d take every one. For her. He stroked his hand through her soft hair, loving the way it felt. Loving the way she felt pressed against him.
“No,” she said, her voice no more than a rasp. She lifted her eyes to his. “All on me.”
“Fuck, Al. Rarely is anything in a relationship all on one person. That day in the cemetery . . .” He shook his head. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wished that I’d given you what you needed. That . . . that was on me.”
Her mouth dropped open, like the admission surprised her. And then they stared at one another a long moment, Maverick swiping away her falling tears until they slowed, then stopped.
“Wanna head home?” he finally asked.
She released a halting breath, her eyes searching his. “You’re a good man, Maverick Rylan. Better than I gave you credit for. But I see you now.” She paused, and he hung on her words like they were the oxygen he needed to breathe. “I know it may be too late. But, God, I see you.”
His heart tripped into a thunderous beat, one that pounded through his veins. His cock hardened at the sentiment and the raw emotion on her face. “Not too late,” he managed, need putting him on edge. “But, Jesus, you need to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to take a bite out of me.”
“Why?”
“Because my bite will be fucking bigger.”
She shifted against him, the friction of her belly turning his cock to steel. His hands tightened on her, a silent command to be still. Alexa licked her lips, and he saw his hunger reflected back at him. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Lingered there.
