by Moxie North
“What are you doing with all that junk?” Ethel asked.
“I was at the rehab center. Met some great people and got a few projects for my group. I met someone who wasn’t too happy to meet me for some reason.”
“Who wouldn’t be happy to meet you? Why you are the biggest ball of sunshine I’ve ever met. Always helping out, looking out for everyone. You are a pure soul if I ever met one,” Claire said, nodding her head.
“What would you know about pure souls?” Ethel sassed back.
“Enough,” was Claire’s answer.
Prudence let out a sigh. “I must have caught him on a bad day. Everyone is allowed to have those.”
“Him? Who him?” Claire asked, suddenly very interested.
“Just a man.” Prudence knew it was a lie the moment she said it. He wasn’t just a man; he was something else. What else she couldn’t put a name to.
“His name?” Claire wasn’t done with her interrogation.
“It was Maverick. I didn’t catch a last name.”
Claire put down her knitting and reached into the giant bag at her feet. Prudence was fairly certain it was Mary Poppins’s bag. It was made out of old carpet and seemed to hold the entirety of Claire’s life. Nothing surprised her when Claire pulled it out of her bag.
This time it was an old leather address book. Prudence could hear the creak of the worn cover as Claire opened it. She thumbed down, presumably to the letter M. Claire adjusted her spectacles and began to read.
“Maverick Hale, been here about three years. Lives at the old Marley house. Oh my, he’s one of those motorcycle boys that ride those noisy contraptions through town.”
Prudence didn’t think that calling the Redemption Motorcycle Club a group of “boys” was accurate. But now she had a full name. Maverick Hale.
“How on earth do you know about this man?” Prudence asked.
“Honey, all I have time to do in my old age is gossip. After knitting it’s the next best thing I’m good at.”
“She speaks the truth,” Ethel said knowingly.
“So what did this young man do that made you dive headfirst into a vat of artificial preservatives?” Claire asked, looking over her shoulder.
Prudence tore open the bag of chips and stuffed a few in her mouth, chewing them aggressively. “He was…abrupt.” Her mouth was full and she tried to keep the chips in.
“Ahh, a pigtail puller,” Ethel said.
“Huh?”
“Boys are always mean when they like you. The more they push you away, the more they’re scared by what you make them feel.”
“Ethel, what if they really just don’t like you?”
“Well, I guess that means they are mean to you too. But you, my dear, are a beauty. Your kindness shines though and that takes your beauty to a breathtaking level. I bet my lotto money that boy thought you were pretty and then got nervous and nasty. Seen it a hundred times.”
“Mm-hmm,” Claire agreed.
“You two need to get out more. You ever heard of the phrase, ‘he’s just not that into you?’ It means you aren’t his type. I’m guessing I wasn’t his type, along with the fact that he was in rehab, and was missing a leg.”
“Ohh, missing a leg you say? I’ll add that to my book,” Ethel said, reaching for a pen. “Was it his right or left leg?”
Prudence didn’t think Maverick would like knowing there was a geriatric lady keeping notes about him. Not that he could do anything about it. People in their town treated the sisters like they were the matriarchs of their little burg.
“Left leg. The chance I will even see him again is pretty slim. I’m going to e-mail my group, then I’ll come out here and do inventory,” Prudence said.
There was a dual snort from the ladies. “Nobody has been in all day. I’m guessing you memorized what you’ve sold since you last did inventory. I don’t think Port May has a large yarn-stealing ring.” Ethel loved that Prudence was a hard worker, but knew the girl often made up tasks for herself. She’d once told the ladies that she felt bad getting paid for basically standing around. They gave her a raise after that.
“Still needs to be done.” Prudence needed something to occupy her mind and keep it off the man that didn’t like her. There was only one thing to do: focus on the tasks at hand. If she did run into Maverick Hale again, she’d attempt to win him over with kindness.
Chapter 10
“Fuck!”
Maverick slammed the door on his truck and ran his hand through his hair.
There were a few guys hanging around outside on picnic tables. The smarter, more established members didn’t say anything. The two young men that were new to their group didn’t know that you shouldn’t stick your nose into Mav’s business.
“Who shit in your cornflakes this morning, Mav?”
Maverick turned his gaze toward a young man sitting on one of the benches. They called him Stitch and Maverick had been keeping a close eye on him since he was patched in. There was something about him he didn’t trust. Deacon vouched for him, so Mav had no reason not to trust him. Except there was something about the way the man watched the other brothers. It was calculated and aggressive. He was sitting with Latch and Mav didn’t think that boded well at all. Latch was impressionable, and needed to build his confidence. Hanging out with the wrong sort would only make him stay in his timid position within the pack.
“Why don’t you shut your hole, Stitch?”
“Wow, someone did get up on the wrong side of the crate this morning,” Stitch said, knowing full well what he said.
As a rule—wolves didn’t like dog jokes. Stitch was testing Maverick, and Mav couldn’t let the slight stand.
Maverick crossed the distance across the yard from his truck to the table and had his hand wrapped around the man’s throat and his nose touching his within his next breath. He bared his teeth and let out a growl that would do an Alpha proud.
“You better watch your mouth. We both know I can take you down. I know ways to keep a shifter down for a week. You don’t want me to demonstrate. I will make you hurt. Show me respect and I’ll avoid tearing you up. Continue flapping your gums and not even Deacon can save you.”
Maverick gave the man a final squeeze and snarl. He could smell the man’s fear, but his eyes showed hatred burning back at Maverick.
Pushing away, he gave Latch a glance and said, “Don’t you have something else you could be doing? Like making sure the mess hall is ready? Clean it out and prep the bar.”
Latch scurried off the table to do Maverick’s bidding. Stitch was still glaring at him even as the handprint around his throat had started to fade. The man’s eyes that were trying their best to threaten Mav could cut through a weaker man. Maverick was not weaker than Stitch, and they both knew it.
Giving Stitch a final look, he turned to walk towards Deacon’s cabin to see if his Alpha was in.
He could still feel Stitch’s eyes on him as he walked away. As a brother, Mav had to deal with him, even back him when he needed it. Outside of the club, there would be no reason for him to not kick his ass into next week.
Striding onto the porch that stretched across the front of Deacon’s cabin, Mav navigated around the two large Adirondack chairs and paused to appreciate the view. The lake was just big enough to canoe and swim in, but not so big you couldn’t see to the other side. In the mornings there would be a low mist clinging over the surface. The caws of crows and hoots of owls that hadn’t gone to bed yet broke the silence.
“You gonna stand out there or come in?” The muffled words came through the door and Maverick decided to answer honestly.
“Stand out here.”
Maverick waited the few moments for the door to swing open and Deacon to walk out.
“You got a problem with my cabin?”
“Smells like balls and motor oil. The air is much sweeter out here.”
“Pussy. How’s the leg?”
“Got a new soft silicone model on order.”
&nb
sp; “Sounds like you’re ordering one of those fancy sex dolls. You that hard up? I know we’ve got some lost girls that wouldn’t mind giving you some action.”
“I don’t need the lost girls. Shit, I don’t fucking need anything,” Maverick ground out.
Just the thought of hooking up with one of the girls that found something in the club they needed made him sad. Their lost girls were lucky. Deacon didn’t allow anyone to treat them poorly and they were allowed to come and go as they pleased. If a brother made a claim and marked her as an old lady that was one thing. Otherwise, no one owned them and they picked who they wanted to be with.
Now that Maverick had found his mate, all other woman held zero appeal to him. But since he had no intention of claiming his mate, that left a very bleak and lonely future for him. When you didn’t have a mate you could pretend that you didn’t need one. Once you found that woman you couldn’t imagine your life without her.
How a stranger turned into his everything in a matter of moments was still shocking. His wolf had whined all the way back to the camp.
Deacon took a seat in one of the chairs and kicked his feet up onto the railing. “I get you aren’t a happy camper when you come back from rehab, but it seems like you got an extra thorn in your paw.”
Maverick sat in the other seat and stretched out his legs in front of him. “Had an unexpected situation…”
“Something with your leg?”
Maverick wished it were just something with his leg. That would be fixable; something he could focus on and overcome. There was no overcoming it when the universe throws your entire life into chaos and expects you to just accept what the fates have decreed. Worse, he did accept it. There was no physical or mental way he could resist the pull of Prudence. She was his oxygen, his daylight, his safe place. A woman he had never met before today was calling to him and his wolf, telling them they had found their home.
“No, I met someone. I met a woman. My woman.” Maverick wasn’t sure exactly how you were supposed to explain it other than blurting it out. In his pack couples were almost always two shifters. You could go from stranger to established family member in a moment. No one questioned it, no one thought it was strange. It was the most natural thing in the world.
“Your woman? What the fuck does that mean?”
Mav shot Deacon a look. “What the fuck do you think I mean?”
“Well, asshole, you are going to have to explain it to me. I’m not about to jump to conclusions in this conversation. So why don’t you spell it out for me?”
“I met my mate.”
Maverick left that hanging in the air. The words felt foreign on his tongue. He could imagine it becoming easier, saying it out loud, learning to use it as an affectionate phrase instead of a description.
“I’m sorry, did you say your mate? Like a real mate?”
“You heard me. Your hearing isn’t going yet.”
Maverick heard Deacon let out a long whistle. He was hoping for some insightful words or suggestions from his Alpha. He didn’t get that.
“Well, you’re fucked.” Deacon said this with a finality like he was ending the conversation.
“That’s it, oh wise Alpha?”
“I don’t see her sitting on your lap whispering sweet nothings in your ear. I’m guessing you didn’t do anything. You’ve probably already worked up a plan to continue not doing anything because you still think that you don’t deserve to be happy.”
“You’ve got to stop reading those Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I want to be happy, but I won’t do that at the sake of someone else’s happiness. I’m not a dick.”
“Yes, you are. One of the biggest dicks I know. You are a self-sacrificing prick that thinks you’re being noble by not taking what the fates are offering you. So you lost your leg, big deal. You hop around when you don’t have your foot on, but you still run as fast as you ever did as a wolf. Does that mean you can’t take care of your mate? Love her, provide for her? Do you think not having a matching set of feet is what this woman is willing to give up a chance at happiness for?”
“It means that I can’t be all that I should for a mate. Don’t you think she deserves a whole man?”
“Don’t you think she has a right to decide that on her own? You are assuming how she would react to you. You met her at rehab? Was she there too? Maybe she knows what you’ve gone through.”
Maverick wanted to punch his Alpha in his wise face, not that he ever would. But he was still mad at being told the plans he’d created over the last few years were erased. That the life he’d created was never really in his control. That made him mad at the same time it made him desperate for his mate. He hated the pull of her. He could tell just being in her presence would bring him comfort.
It would feel good to him, but what would it feel like to her?
“So you think I should knock on her door and introduce myself as her mate? ‘Hi, I’m Maverick, and the universe has decided you are to be my woman. I’m going to bite you and alter your DNA. Oh, and by the way, I turn into a wolf whenever I want. Bonus—I don’t have to wait until the full moon.’”
Deacon started to chuckle. “I’m no expert, but that might send her running. What does your wolf want?”
“Oh, he’s quite clear on what he wants. Taste her—fuck her—bite her. He’s a simple animal, always has been.”
“Simple can be good. You’ve been overthinking your life for years. Your animal deserves a mate. You deserve a mate. Go ask some of the old-timers what they think you should do. Do you think they would turn down a mate after waiting six decades? Being alone that long? Drives some shifters mad. I think that’s why some of our brothers came to us. Living amongst happily mated couples in their packs just reminded them of what they didn’t have. Better to be alone with others that were alone too.”
Maverick had never thought about it like that. All those years waiting, hoping, looking every woman they met in the eye with the hope that the next one might be theirs? Fuck him.
“Shit, you just added a truckload of guilt to my confusion.”
“It’s not confusion. Your animal is telling you what you need to do. Find your mate and get to know her. I’m assuming she’s human, otherwise there would be no way she wouldn’t be attached to your hip. So you have an opportunity here to take it as slow as you want.”
Maverick heard his Alpha. What he was saying made sense, but he also knew that he wasn’t nearly as strong as he liked to pretend. He was ruled by his wolf as much as his wolf was ruled by him. Every shifter wanted a mate—dreaming and hoping for that perfect match to their twin souls.
Just because he could say that he didn’t want a mate, didn’t mean it was his true feelings. It was like being on a diet but still looking at the menu. You knew it would taste great if you ordered something decadent and naughty, but you deny yourself anyway.
That was what he’d been doing since he got hurt. Denying himself that slice of cake.
The woman named Prudence was clearly a chocolate-frosted chocolate cake. Too rich, too sweet, and too good.
Maverick sat in silence and looked out to the lake. Deacon was quiet, letting his brother have the time he needed.
The pair sat for almost an hour in silence, Mav going through a million different scenarios in his head. He could track down his mate. His wolf was willing to sniff their way through town to find her if needed. Not practical and potentially time-consuming. Not to mention skulking around town would get the local police on his case. That was against Deacon’s rules.
He could also hang around the rehab center and see if she showed up. He only knew a handful of people in Port May that he could even ask who she was. Letting other people in on his interest didn’t sit well with him.
If he asked Nick how to get ahold of her, he was sure that the therapist would help. Of course, with the way he was looking at her he might be more inclined to tell Maverick off. His wolf told him Nick was more afraid of him than that and would cough up the informa
tion.
Or he could stick to what he’d been doing for the last three years: avoiding any kind of connection that didn’t include brothers, patches, or blood.
“I’m going home.”
“Yeah,” Deacon said, not looking at his Beta. Ranger might be the club’s Vice President, but in the pack, Maverick was second.
Mav heard the disappointment in the other man’s voice, but didn’t have a way to fix it. He walked back to his truck, pausing to scoop Lulu up and give a growling warning to a few of the guys that were going to put up a fuss.
Maverick knew he needed another heartbeat in the house tonight, and Lulu was going to give him that. She wasn’t chocolate cake Prudence, but she was probably sweet enough.
Chapter 11
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
Prudence glanced down at her LuLaRoe leggings. They were a pale blue with dark blue goldfish on them. She loved her fishes, and since they were blue and pink instead of orange, she topped off her outfit with an orange-striped long t-shirt.
She’d color coordinated her two side ponytail braids with a ribbon in each color of the fish. She thought her outfit looked nice.
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
The sisters were sitting in their usual places, except this morning they decided to turn their chairs around so they were facing Prudence, not the window.
Claire made a tsking sound. “You look like you just jumped out of a clown car.”
“Oh hush, she looks pretty,” Ethel said, slapping at her sister.
“Don’t hit me. You can’t see past the end of your nose. The girl got dressed in the dark.”
“I did not! I picked this out because it’s colorful and cheerful. If you were walking into a room full of grumpy people, you’d want to distract them too,” Prudence stated.
“Well, it’s not what I’d wear if I might run into my beau,” Claire said.
“He’s not her beau, yet,” Ethel said.
Prudence let out a sigh. She loved these ladies more than anything, but they were a nosy pair. “He probably won’t even be there. I’m going to deliver the items we made and see what else I can do. Look, Libby made an elbow sleeve that holds rice packs inside for heat.”
