Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3)

by Ashley Bostock

  “Is there enough for me?”

  I tensed, not turning right away as I filled my mug. The sliding glass door slid open, more of her come on baby mutterings, and the door slid shut.

  “Help yourself.” As I turned to face her, I sucked in a breath.

  She’d yet to put her top back on, only wearing a skin-tight cotton tank top that clung to her chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. Thankfully she still had her skirt on from the night before, slightly wrinkled and twisted, hugging her hourglass shape, but none of it detracted from her beauty. The corner of her mouth turned up, causing the dark brown freckle near her top lip to rise, too. I guessed I was one of few people that had seen her like this: last night’s make-up still on, day old clothes and sleep-tousled hair that was no longer board straight, not to mention all the skin showing along her shoulders and chest, something I hadn’t realized she hid so well until now.

  “I knew you wouldn't be a gentleman about it.”

  Tilting my head at her statement, I watched her as she strolled into my kitchen like she owned the place and opened the right cupboard next to my head and withdrew a mug and poured herself coffee.

  “That was your first mistake. I'm not a gentleman. Even still, what are you referring to? The coffee?”

  “Ha. That, too.” She took a sip of her coffee and folded her arms across her chest, shielding any further glances from me.

  “Ah. You’re embarrassed about your chest? Or upset that I'm looking? Should’ve put your top on.”

  “I'm not embarrassed by them, big and inconvenient as they are. I didn't know you were in here until I let her outside. It's still slightly dark out.”

  “Well, now you know.” I slid a glance down again, not sorry in the least at undressing her mentally. “How could I not look?”

  Thin straps dug into her shoulders, hefting up her goods for me to look. I was serious. If she wasn’t sure I was up, she should have covered herself.

  “Whatever. I didn't ask for these. I know they’re big and obnoxious-”

  “They’re perfect,” I admitted.

  Chapter Three

  Grace

  Was he serious? His eyes were all fire as I tried to decipher if he was trying to shock me or if he meant what he said. They’re perfect. Maybe it was a combination of both. But since I’d stumbled on his sidewalk late afternoon yesterday, this was the first time his eyes were sincere. As sincere as a man like Maverick could be anyway. Sincere and turned on.

  His stare drew me into him. The bottomless depths of his eyes, a pool of whiskey poured straight, and the way he almost looked like he knew he shouldn't have just said that. He was probably thinking about my little sister status to Thatcher that he couldn't seem to get over. Of course, I didn't imagine he would apologize for the comment either.

  I shrugged and took my cup of coffee to the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  I felt entirely too exposed without my blouse – although I didn't want to show him I was nervous by running over to pull it on. I already opened my mouth about how little I appreciated my breasts. I felt like cowering in the corner and showing him I was a chicken would simply make him laugh at me and not take me serious as anything more than, well, than Thatcher’s little sister. I was a grown woman, damn it.

  I glanced over at him at the sound of his deep chuckle, “You’re something else, Grace. Why are you so fucking stubborn? Go put your shirt on and cover yourself.”

  I wasn't trying to show off for him, but it hurt me some that he didn't want to look at me this way. “I thought you just said they’re perfect?”

  “I'm not doing this. Don't bait me in. Don't make me regret what I shouldn't have said, even more.”

  “What? You’re so full of contradictions that it’s making my head spin.”

  “I let you sleep here. Thatcher would have my ass for that. Now here you are, looking like something I’d eat for breakfast and if your brother knew, he’d have my ass. Lastly, if he knew I just told his little sister that her tits are perfect, he’d murder me.”

  “Don't forget your offer to fuck me, either,” I swallowed. Saying it out loud sounded different, like maybe crazier things have happened. It sent flutters through my stomach. I perused his lean body. The length of his arms and even longer, firm legs. His large, rough hands that were stained from work. Real hands-on work. Those thick fingers of his and how they gripped the edge of the counter. How would they feel digging into my flesh? Holding onto me as if I were giving him his last breath of air.

  “Thanks for the reminder. Yes, and my offer to fuck your brains out.” His voice came out all gravelly and rough and my breath hitched in my throat. The darkness outside made this moment much more intimate than it should have been. Especially because no one has ever spoken to me the way Maverick was right now.

  “Yeah well, what Thatcher doesn't know, won't hurt him. And please stop referring to me as his little sister. It's creepy. It sounds like I'm some freakish extension of him and I'm not. I'm my own person. I'm all me, okay Maverick?”

  He folded his arms across his chest, all attitude and sexiness that in no way I found appealing. Fine. Maybe a little. If the pulse flickering in my neck was anything to go by. Not to mention the silent thrumming of my pelvic muscles. Or the way I wanted to palm my nipples to verify how hard they were.

  “What’s your angle here, Princess?”

  “About what? I don't have an angle.”

  “What do you want from me? I already gave you a key to my house for fuck’s sake. I’ve never given a female a key to my house.”

  “I don't want anything from you. Scratch that. I want your help with the puppy. Until I can figure out who she belongs to.”

  “I mean, why are you baiting me?”

  I opened my mouth to feign innocence but he cut me off.

  “Don't say you don't know what I'm talking about either, Grace. Don't play games with me. You’re off limits to me. Why are you pressing me?”

  Why was I pressing him? My head swirled with possible answers, but it wasn't words I could give him. It was my body. My breasts were heavy with desire, my arms tingled with awareness, my clit hummed with need – I couldn't explain it. Not with words. Only feelings. I've never given Maverick a second thought really. The one time when he found my romance novel and picked it up for me, that made my heart race and my insides flip. His arrogant grin when he’d read the title. I couldn’t make it back to my apartment any faster. I touched myself the second I’d made it to my bedroom, thinking only of him.

  We were such opposites that the idea of a ‘we’ never occurred to me. Not until he pulled up yesterday on his loud motorcycle, looking cocky as hell and equally annoying, that for a brief second when I looked into his eyes, did I realize how handsome he was. Not until I heard him pounding that woman's body while she begged for him to make her come.

  Thankfully the puppy chose that moment to come back to the door and I jumped up and let her inside. She looked a thousand times better after her bath last night and the trim I'd given her around the ears. A whole new pup, if you asked me.

  “Come on, baby girl. Did you go potty? Yes, good girl. I’m going to call the veterinarian for you this morning, okay, baby?” I swooped her up into my arms, Maverick’s gaze on my chest did nothing to squelch this crazy desire I was burning up with. They’re perfect. “I’m going to throw my blouse on and figure out what I need for her.”

  “Good idea.”

  I set the puppy down and turned toward the living room. How humiliating. All I could think about was wanting my brother’s much-older, very good-looking best friend to sleep with me and he couldn't wait to get rid of me. Nothing like feeling like that pesky little sister he kept reminding me about.

  “One thing, Grace,” the warning in his deep voice stopped me in my tracks. “I don't know what’s gotten in to you. I could only guess it’s your stubbornness and naivety, but when it comes to a guy like me, you better be careful what you ask for. I’ll start slow and easy
but when I'm done with, you’ll have hickies on your clit.”

  My cheeks warmed, my legs clenched together. Was that even a thing? Could that happen? More importantly, when? When could I sign myself up? Blushing as I was, I wasn't afraid of him. Not like he thought I should be. Not like everyone else was.

  It was no secret his dad’s been in prison for years and his mom left the two of them when he was a teenager. She’d been a drug addict for so long, it finally took her away from them. She could be dead now, I didn’t know. Nor did I know if or when his dad would get out of prison. Maverick, I guessed, maybe was good most of the time with a little bad thrown in. He claimed he wasn't in a biker gang and no one had any reason not to believe him.

  Once or twice I’ve seen him tearing out of town on his metal monstrosity with a band of rebels trailing behind. Men and women who I suspected didn't mind getting their nails dirty if need be. He was intimidating and I suspected it was the fact that I mostly grew up with him around my dad and brother that made me think there was nothing to be afraid of.

  Sexually though?

  My body danced with awareness with his eyes zeroed in on me. My gaze didn't meet his as I trotted to his bathroom and threw on my shirt and cleaned up yesterday's makeup as best as I could. Yeah, sexually, I feared he would give me everything I needed and more which would completely ruin me for any other man as long as I lived. My skin was flushed from my cheeks to my neck. I didn't know what had gotten into me. Maverick? Out of all the men in Lone Star, Maverick Carter was the one responsible for this look?

  I laughed at my reflection in the mirror.

  I’m going crazy.

  Finished with trying to make myself as presentable as possible, praying for once he might be a gentleman and let the conversation go, I went back out to face the music. His back was to me as he poured himself more coffee and I took the time to study him, to question these uncontrollable feelings in my body and to still my crazy heart.

  I never noticed him before because he was never an option. Still wasn't, according to him. I couldn't ignore the way I was drawn to him though. It was unreal. New, like the first cold autumn night of the season after a blazing summer.

  Yeah. It was just a “the grass is greener” kind of attraction because nothing could explain how hot I was getting by how good he looked in his rugged, faded jeans and black shirt. Not when he wasn't my type. Besides that, I did everything people expected of me…mostly. And I couldn’t see Maverick giving a crap about what anyone thought about him.

  “You want some more coffee?”

  “Please.” I retrieved my cup from the table and brought it to where he stood holding the carafe in his hand. I watched him pour it, all the while feeling his eyes on me.

  “I put your mutt back outside. He was pawing at the door.”

  “Thank you. He is actually a she though, remember?”

  He grunted and set the carafe back into its spot and went to the table. This morning had been filled with so much sexual energy that now in the quiet, it was an odd mixture of quiet comfort and an awkward morning-after-sex date. It was barely pushing six but I didn't want to leave the puppy this early.

  “What do you have going on for the day?” I asked.

  “The usual,” he said.

  “What’s the usual?”

  “Working on my bike. Look, we’re going to need to establish some ground rules. First of all, I gave you a key which means you can come and go as you please to take care of your damn mutt. That's it. You come take care of him, take him with you for a while, but no more. No more sleeping on the couch. No more sharing my pot of coffee. No more listening to me have sex. No more talk about what I think of your tits. Got it?”

  “You woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Sorry for being civil and social.”

  “I don't do civil and social, Grace. When are you gonna understand that?”

  “When you stop treating me like a kid, Maverick. I can handle myself just fine. I'm a grown woman. So why do you insist on treating me like a child?”

  “I'm not treating you like a child. Trust me, I wouldn't be promising to give you a hickey on your clit if I thought that.”

  Butterflies took flight in my lower belly as he flicked a glance down my torso, up to my chest and into my eyes. His stony eyes were difficult to read. He had to be affected like me, right? On some primal, male level, didn't he, too, get a little worked up at the idea of having his mouth down there? Leaving a hickey or two. Three, tops.

  “So you just want me to come in and do my doggy duties and leave?” I could hear the hurt in my voice. Pathetic.

  “I'm going to go out on a limb here and explain something that I wouldn't explain to any woman ever. Because you are Thatcher’s sister and I've known you for years, I'm going to do you a favor. Whatever this is,” he gestured between us, “it's only momentary. I'm not the kind of guy you would want in your bed. Ever. I'm dirty. I don’t take things seriously. I fuck women that hang out at the Lazy Dogs Saloon. I am not marriage material and you fucking are. You’re all sunshine and shit. I’m not gentlemanly or cuddly. I don't do dates-”

  “Who said I want any of that?” I snapped.

  “I did. Don’t lie to me, Grace. You’re a good girl. You heard me last night. I fuck women and send them home. Bet you’ve never even been to the Lazy Dogs, have you?”

  “You don't know what I want or what I need, Maverick. You just don't have the guts to do anything more than talk tough. And fine. No, I would never step foot in that place.” His eyes flickered and we both stood at the same time. “Did I hit a nerve? It's the truth, Maverick, and you and I both know it.”

  The silence was deafening as we stood staring at each other. I was baiting him. I wanted emotion from him. I wanted something more than a damn key. He leaned in a tiny bit and I thought he was going to touch me, kiss me, but then his standard grunt came out of his throat and he stomped out of the room.

  I let out a sound of frustration and slid the patio door open, scooped up the pup and left. To hell with Maverick Carter and this off-the-wall attraction.

  Lone Star’s population was two thousand-one hundred and two, if you believed what the sign said coming into town. The lack of men around here to date, led me to believe the number was off quite a bit. Main Street was where the majority of businesses were located – my brother’s feed store, a florist, a couple of gas stations and a variety of other businesses that were necessary for a small town to prosper. We had everything one would need if you were willing to forgo the conveniences of big city living. No drive-thru coffee shops here. No fast food. The local drive-in was where it was all at and that wasn’t exactly what the rest of the world meant by Fast Food.

  At this hour on a Saturday, there was hardly a soul in sight. I glanced over to the passenger seat at the white puppy next to me. I went to high school with Megan Dexter who was now Lone Star’s veterinarian. I was certain she would help me out and check on the puppy. Make sure she was current on her shots and make sure she wasn’t sick or something.

  I headed to my apartment, watching the puppy as I eased to a stop. My lease didn't define that pets couldn't visit so long as they weren't permanent. It would be okay to bring her inside momentarily while I cleaned up. I pulled into my parking lot, grabbed the sleeping puppy from the passenger seat and let her do her business before we went inside.

  I threw my keys into a bowl that sat on top of a small side table near the door. I’d decorated my small place in tones of white and turquoise throughout the entire living room, kitchen and dining room. A wooden anchor hung on the far wall, a reminder that where ever I was, there was always the ocean calling for me. That was my someday dream – to live on the beach. My bedroom was the only outcast in my small apartment. It was made up in a variety of red hues, giving the room a sultry feel.

  “Come on little girl. What are we going to name you?” When I let her down, she immediately began sniffing around and exploring. She barely managed to jump on to the couch, where she set
tled in next to me after she’d had a look around.

  My second bedroom was where I kept my computer desk and laptop. Thinking of mine and Maverick’s discussion earlier, I unplugged the laptop and quickly searched for the word that held the meaning of listening to someone have sex. Ecouteurism. Easy peasy. I was naming her Echo.

  “Can you behave while I jump in the shower, Echo?”

  She didn’t bat an eye at me so I made a beeline to the bathroom and jumped under the mostly-hot water. I willed the water to wash away all my dirty thoughts about Maverick, steeling myself for the fact that I may run into him from time to time when I stopped by to let Echo out. I was worried. About me and the dog. For me, because I couldn’t get over his rough voice as he threatened to leave hickies on my clit. Although I’m sure it was more of an over-exaggerated promise than an actual threat.

  The dog, because what would he do if she went to the bathroom inside his house? Would he let her go? Take her to the dog pound? Would he even call me to come pick her up? Ha. I laughed out loud. Who was I kidding? Maverick would call me to come and clean up the mess.

  I got out of the lukewarm water and dried off. My lease was set to expire on this place and I couldn’t help but think of poor Echo. Was she someone’s dog? Whoever owned her hadn’t treated her very well. Not with all her matted hair and the way she ate from my hand last night. No. No one wanted to keep her. By the time I dressed, the puppy tagging along at my heels the whole time, I blow dried my hair and convinced myself that whoever let her go didn’t want her.

  I wasn’t putting up signs around town.

  To hell with that.

  I was keeping her.

  I would just have to find a way.

  “Echo, it’s going to be you and me, girl.”

  I called Megan’s office and the answering system offered me up her cell phone in case of emergencies for her clients. I jotted it down and called.

  “Megan? It’s Grace Patterson.”

  “Grace. How are you? I’m a tad surprised to hear from you. Let alone this early on a Saturday. Is there something wrong?”