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

by Ashley Bostock

  I went into the whole story of finding the dog and what she thought I needed to do. Since we weren’t sure of the dog’s history, she suggested I bring Echo in on Monday and she would give her a series of shots, as a precaution.

  “Perfect. Thanks, Megan. See you Monday after school.”

  I fluffed Echo’s head as she leaned into me. Knowing I’d have to move if I kept the dog, I considered looking online through the classifieds to see if there were any places for rent and if my school teacher salary could even afford it if there were. I had some money saved but was I willing to live beyond my budget simply because of a dog? My grandparents had left me some money when they passed away and I’ve kept almost every penny of it so far. I used it to buy my car as there was no point in paying interest on a car loan when I had the money.

  As for rent, the romantic side of me was hoping I would find someone and we’d marry and buy a home and have exactly two children. I was waiting for the perfect man and thus, the perfect home. In the meantime, I was content renting a small, inexpensive place.

  I wasn’t willing to go much above my budget for the dog. I couldn’t screw up my life savings and plans, even for an animal as cute as she was. Even if the thought of having someone – something – in my life was pulling at me badly. Her short stay had so far made my apartment seem fuller and not so quiet.

  Even though today was Saturday, I planned to go to school because I had a few items I wanted to prepare for next week. A quick check on my phone told me the pet shop didn’t open until ten. I made a list of items I would need for Echo. Crate. Bedding. Bowls. Leash. Collar and name tag. Dog food – which I would normally get at Thatcher’s, but I was afraid he’d ask where I was keeping the puppy since he knew my apartment couldn’t have pets. He could be so nosy at times. Unable to think of anything else, I planned my day.

  First the pet shop, then to Maverick’s to drop off Echo. I would go to school for a few hours and finish up a few things for next week and head back to Maverick’s house for the puppy. Satisfied with the day I had ahead of me, I took Echo outside again. Knowing there wouldn’t be a thing open in Lone Star at this hour, I went into the kitchen and started to bake.

  I pulled out my labeled canisters of flour, sugar, and cocoa, as well as the minor ingredients I would need to make a chocolate cake. From scratch, of course. Anything else wouldn’t do. Baking gave me a sense of control, accomplishment – much like decorating did. Besides, I was good at it and I knew it. Baking gave me a clear head. Helped me more often than not to see things from a different perspective. Soften out those rough edges, if you will.

  Measuring the correct amounts of sugar and flour and pouring them into the stainless-steel bowl, I decided Maverick was right. He wasn’t my type. I was attracted to men who were soft and gentle. Men who weren’t afraid to use hair gel and wear watches and collared shirts. I liked my men clean cut, no facial hair, and definitely no noisy motorcycles. I liked good ol’ boys.

  This was all before I read the Delta Motorcycle Club Series though. Naughty thoughts filled my mind on what kind of a lover Maverick was. Rough. Hard. After hearing him, I knew he got the job done and treated it much like he treated his bike: rode it good and hard but gave it the attention it needed in order to keep it in screaming condition.

  I unwrapped the two sticks of butter, measured out the cocoa and dumped everything into the saucepan to bring it to a boil. Echo pranced around at my feet before she finally settled herself onto the edge of one of my kitchen rugs. She was adorable. If only Maverick thought so, this whole situation could be a lot easier.

  As it was, I calculated my morning walk time to and from school and decided if I left twenty minutes earlier each morning, it would give me plenty of time to let Echo out and do her business. Hopefully she would get into the habit of eating right away and I could head to school. Then, I had a forty-five-minute break where the second graders went to lunch and recess that I could let her out, if I wasn’t assigned recess duty. Since Maverick’s house was on my way home, the afternoon wasn’t going to be a problem. I could take her with me most evenings and bring her back right before bed time, when she could settle into her crate.

  As I stirred the contents of the butter, cocoa and water in the pan, the smell always familiar and comforting, I couldn’t disregard what a pain in the ass this was going to become. Made even worse because Maverick wouldn’t have any part in this at all. We were like a divorced couple, except that one parent was completely unhelpful. I was thankful he allowed Echo to stay for the week. However, if he could be more helpful, it would make the week a whole hell of a lot easier.

  Once my mixture boiled, I poured it over the sugar and flour and added the rest of the ingredients. As I churned, the white slowly turned milk chocolate and I wondered more about Maverick. What was his story anyway? The whole story. I knew about his parents but I didn’t know about them. Not firsthand. Who didn’t like animals anyway? Did he harbor some childhood secret about being afraid of dogs or something?

  Funny how suddenly my mind was reaching into its depths trying much too hard to remember all I knew about him. He was a welder. He did jobs for just about anyone and everyone around Lone Star, which I knew because of Thatcher. I also knew he worked on motorcycles. I’d seen him come and go from his uncle’s garage a time or two.

  The proverbial elephant in the room was his women. Or lack of. I’d never seen him with a woman. None that I could remember. That never stopped the banter between my brother and his crew, talking about him and how he had no problems in the female department. I thought of the poor woman he sent home last night and tried to understand how she was okay with Maverick sending her home like that. No sleepovers? Who did that?

  “Some men just aren’t marriage material are they, Echo?” She perked her ears at me, dark eyes wide open, as I poured the cake mixture into the pan and placed it inside my oven.

  “Do you have to go potty?” She jumped up and we went outside.

  It was still early and quiet but the humidity was already calling. Echo did her business and when I saw my landlord walking toward me, I knew I was going to get an earful.

  “Grace, good morning.”

  “Hello, Linda. How are you today?”

  Her eyes watched Echo sniff around, trot to her feet and stop.

  “This your dog?”

  “Well, kinda. Not technically. I found her. I know we can’t have pets here.”

  “That’s right. Where are you taking her?”

  “My friend was helping me with her. She’s just visiting now.”

  “Your friend or the dog.”

  “The dog. The lease doesn’t say an animal can’t visit temporarily, only permanently.”

  “The problem with that is having a pet on the premises at all, well, it’s difficult to determine if you’re lying or not. Lots of people lie to their landlords about such things.”

  “I would never, Linda.” If she only knew how much of a rule follower I was.

  “I know. They all say that, too. My suggestion would be to keep the dog away from around here so Ted or I don’t get the wrong idea.” She smirked and looked at Echo in disdain, her hand on her hips as if she owned the place. I suppressed the need to roll my eyes. Linda was hired by Ted about six months ago. While she has been a much better person to deal with then the last landlord we had here, she was still a peacock trying to prove how great of a hire she was.

  “Fine. I’ll take her to Maverick’s and will keep the pet visits to a minimum.” Shoot. I knew better than to mention his name. Not only to her, but possibly this entire town would know in a matter of seconds if she didn’t keep that little tidbit to herself.

  “Cap? That Maverick?” she laughed all shrilly. Echo’s head titled to the side and I noticed mine did, too. “No one calls him ‘Maverick.’ Is that where you’re keeping this dog?” She used air quotes around his name and my eyes wanted to roll again.

  “Yes, it is….is that a problem?”

  She barked
out another shrill laugh and my hackles went up. What the heck? “Cap isn’t the type to keep an animal. Especially to help someone who is not his type.”

  “I’m just a friend. I’ve known him for a long time. He can be helpful.” Total lie.

  “Sure. I’d suggest keeping the dog over there until you make other arrangements. Permanently. Let him know I said hello.”

  She walked off and I stood in a huff. I didn’t need her to tell me I wasn’t Maverick’s type. I didn’t need to feel out of sorts at the way she sounded so chummy with him either. As if she knew him. I hoped she didn’t know him know him, like the woman last night knew him.

  “Come on, Echo. Let’s finish our cake.”

  Unwilling to relinquish Echo just yet, I cut some of the cake, now frosted and perfect, and placed some of the squares into a Tupperware to take to Maverick. I couldn’t eat it all and most of my love of baking came from the way it made me feel to share it with other people anyway. I figured Maverick would eat it.

  Opting to walk back the few blocks to his place, we set out and Echo led the way. She was a pretty good dog. She could’ve snuck out of her happy home. Wouldn’t the owners be searching up and down the streets looking for her by now, though? I know I would be if I’d lost my dog.

  Maverick’s garage was open when we walked up. His shirtless form was crouched near another deathtrap inside his garage. Shelving lined the walls and tools lay strewn all over the ground. Four tires laid stacked one on top of another in the far corner. He hadn’t noticed me yet, tinkering with something I couldn’t make heads or tails of. A black rag hung from his back pocket. His denim jeans were worn and dirty with grease spots along the legs.

  His honey-colored back flexed and pulled with each jerk of his arm. His movements exposed ridges of muscles along his shoulder blades and lower back. I shivered as I watched his large forearms tighten as he worked. A shame how I’d never noticed him before. If for nothing else than something to appease the eye and all my horny college girl fantasies. Not that it would change anything between us, but his body left much to appreciate and I’d been in the dark this whole time.

  Echo moved and stopped at his feet and let out a yap.

  “Easy tiger. Get back,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

  “I have to run to the school. I bet you were enjoying your peace and quiet.”

  “Mostly. Doesn’t stop me from thinking though.”

  “About what?”

  “Thatcher.”

  “Worried you might break your best friend code?”

  He looked up at me and smirked. “If you mean by fucking his little sister, no.”

  Chapter Four

  Maverick

  Grace stood there all dignified with one hand on her hip and the other holding a plastic container. She’d since changed into another awful shirt that covered her chest – baggy and ugly, doing nothing to showcase what I’d caught a glimpse of this morning. She had on a pair of shorts that looked like they used to be a pair of jeans once upon a time. Her hair wasn’t curly like it’d been when she’d woken up and her make-up was perfect. She looked like the Grace she wanted everyone to see. Not the Grace who listened to me and Tiffany last night. Not the Grace who’d woken up on my couch this morning with that sunshine face and wild tangles of hair going every which way. At her feet was a plastic dog crate.

  I couldn’t deny the pull in me at the thought of having her beneath me. Her eyes darkened and I remembered my usual blunt conversations weren’t going to shock her as much as I wanted them to. Not like they did with everyone else. Everyone else I could keep at arm’s length, but somehow Grace managed to cross my invisible electric fence and invade my space.

  “Stop with the little sister comments. I don’t say anything about you being twelve years my senior, do I?”

  She had a point there. I grumbled.

  “What’s that?” I stood from my crouched position, dropping the wrench onto the tarp I’d laid out beneath my bike. I’d managed to strip it down to a bare frame and have it sandblasted. I’d already primered it. She was ready to be sanded down and once I feathered the edges, I could prepare her for a paint job.

  “Chocolate cake, even though apple pies are my specialty. I brought it to say thank you for letting Echo stay here.”

  She couldn’t get any more proper if proper bit her in the ass. “Are you keeping her here all day today? I thought you’d take her with you, wherever you’re going today.” I ignored the cake and wiped my hands on the work rag I had in my back pocket.

  “I have to go to school for a little while. I’m implementing a new behavior system for next year and was hoping to have everything ready by the end of the week.”

  “It’s only ten. A chocolate cake and a chart for next year. It can’t wait until later in the summer?”

  “It’s almost eleven and I like to be organized.”

  No kidding. “Take your mutt inside. Make sure she’s in her crate.”

  She huffed and turned on her heel, using her dog voice to round the mutt up. I almost followed her in but stopped. The last thing I needed was someone like Grace. I couldn’t deny the fact that she intrigued me. Much more than I let on. Fact was, she reminded me too much of better times. Happier times with Candi.

  She pushed into my mind things I’d long since forgotten. Manicures and Pedicures. Stylist appointments. Prim and properness. Bringing food to your neighbors. I didn’t want any of Grace’s sunshine shit. I didn’t need it. Since Candi, there were a lot of things I’d discovered I didn’t need. Things I could live without. I wanted to keep it that way.

  I went back to my work in progress, my old man’s 2010 Indian Chief Vintage. Right before he’d gone to prison, he’d wrecked it. Lucky the bastard lived, if you asked me. The group of men my dad rolled around with had just ripped off a tobacco company that was exporting loads of cigarettes and loose tobacco. Once they’d gotten wind of the shipment, they made the jump on one of their rivals and hauled off the truck. One more punch or blow to the head and the truck driver would have been dead. Even though he wasn’t the one who’d been driving the truck, he’d taken off on his bike when he dropped it and the asphalt chewed him up and barely spit him out. Instead of murder, my dad was sitting in the pen on a shitload of charges ranging from tax evasion and hijacking to assault and battery.

  Since he was rotting away in prison, I’d taken the liberty of restoring it myself. Had to go to the impound and get a trailer to haul it out. Lucky son of a bitch. Or not. He wasn’t going to be getting out of prison any time soon and I was ok with that. Live hard, die hard. That was the way he’d always lived. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to not be a part of his world. While it’d been okay for him to be a Bastard, he’d made it clear it wasn’t okay for me. Even when there were moments I wanted to be a part of that world. Young enough to believe I could be a part of something and have family.

  Since the age of thirteen, I’d grown up on my own with my dad a silent figure in the background. With my mother, Reba, being an addict, she was rarely around, both literally – out somewhere partying – as well as physically – around but so taken by drugs, wasn’t all there. There were many times she was so tanked up on crack I might as well have been by myself.

  Shrugging off that bullshit, I eyed the setup in front of me. Along with all the work I’d done to the frame, I’d rebuilt the engine, fixed the entire brake system, as well as the instrument cluster. Miraculously, the handle bars had remained decent. Everything else needed work. That included all the cosmetic stuff like seat reupholstery, new luggage bags, wheels, emblems and that wasn’t to mention a paint job – back to its original colors of willow green and ivory cream. One that would take some time, as I would have to mask all of these additions since I hadn’t painted it before I began assembling it back together.

  It’d be a beauty once I was finished with it. She was already peeking through as it was. It’d taken me a while, but I was getting her done. Slowly and sur
ely. When I could focus, and wasn’t working, I could get things done at lightning speed. When my mind wasn’t humming with thoughts of what Grace was doing inside my house right now, I could focus. When I wasn’t thinking about how much I would enjoy learning every square inch of her body and what she liked, I could be productive. She was probably coddling the mutt. What do you need baby? Let mama get that for you. Are you hungry baby? Do you want to sleep with me baby? I’ll keep you warm. I won’t let you go, baby. I’ll take care of you.

  She should have named the fucking dog Baby.

  “She’s in her crate. Feel free to take her outside in a little while if you have a minute.”

  I eyed her as she stood along the edge of the garage, hand on her hip and a smile on her face. How could someone always be so happy? So oblivious to my bad attitude? Oblivious to my dirty thoughts?

  “I won’t.”

  “Well, you might have a change of heart. By the way, I ran into a friend of yours today.”

  “Oh yeah, who was that?”

  “Linda. She manages my apartment building. Said to keep Echo out of there. She was shocked that you were letting me keep the dog here.”

  “Why? It’s none of her business.”

  “She seemed to think it was. I thought maybe you and her…” She cleared her throat.

  “What? Me and her screwed? No. Definitely not.”

  “She’d like to though?”

  “That would be my guess,” I replied.

  “Are you going to the Founder’s Day Picnic next Saturday? I was lucky enough to get an entry in the pie auction.”

  Was that so? That would make going so much more interesting. Especially if Grace was going to be involved with the bidding war. “Good for you. What kind of pie are you going to enter?”

  “Apple. I hope it raises a good chunk of money,” she said worriedly.

  “Me too,” I said sincerely.