“What did you need to think about?”
I turned around to face him for the first time since I opened the door. He was freshly showered; hands were mostly clean—clean as I expected he could get them—and he was wearing faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt. In his hand, he was holding an old metal contraption. If I was right, it was a vintage apple peeler. One that you stuck along the table or countertop and inserted the apple between the two metal prongs to hold while you hand turned the crank. I cocked my head to the side, “What are you doing here, Maverick?”
His eyes shifted from the cookie sheet to me. Perusing my body, my chest—“I’ll be right back, let me go get…” I stammered, quickly embarrassed. His large body blocked me in the kitchen, stopping me from going anywhere. My nerves were frayed. What was his deal? Sometimes he acted like a jerk, yet here he was bringing me a gift. Which, just the sight of him had me in tremors. I loved how even freshly showered, he looked formidable. How his hands still looked dirty even though they’d been scrubbed clean. The way they proved they’d been through and through a real day’s worth of work.
I inhaled and before I could tip my chin to look at him, his hand came up and nudged my chin. His eyes flickered, looking into me as if he were trying to read my soul. I felt like he could. That he could see right through me.
“I brought this for you. You said apple pie was your specialty. You probably don’t need it. I’m sure you have one already. I’ve held on to it for…years.”
“Where did you get it?”
“It was Candi’s grandma’s, a long time ago. Then, Candi had it.”
“Who is Candi?”
“My wife.”
My heart sank. Officially fucking sank into the pit of my stomach. “You had a wife? I had no idea.”
“You wouldn’t know. You would’ve been just a kid then. You were right. I don’t know what you’re thinking and it isn’t my place to tell you who or what you should be doing. I should know all of this from my past experiences.”
With Candi?
“Thank you for the gift. That was unbelievably thoughtful of you. I don’t receive many gifts from guys. None, really.”
“That’s a shame. I don’t understand why you don’t have men lined up.”
I shrugged. “Better be careful with those compliments. And gifts. I might start to think you have feelings. And that you listen to what I have to say.” I wiggled the apple peeler in front of him.
His mouth turned up in a grin and my heart picked up speed.
“I’ve always had feelings. I choose who I share them with. And I’m always listening to you, Princess.”
“Ah, I see. As long as I’m breaking a barrier here, mind if I ask where is this Candi in question?” We lost the moment the second the question flew out of my mouth. He stepped back. I set the apple peeler on the counter, instantly regretting the question even though I didn’t know what his answer would be.
“Died.”
“Oh, my gosh. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked about her.”
“You didn’t know. It’s no big deal.”
It was though. I could see it in his face, the sag of his shoulders. I gripped his arm and struggled to pull him toward me. I searched his eyes for clues, my mind reeled with questions I wanted to ask but was afraid. Him coming here was a major turning point. Giving me a gift that was his wife’s –something he cherished – was a big thing.
“Talk to me, please. How did she die?”
“Cow in the road. Killed them.”
“Who is them?” my stomach burned because I was afraid I knew the answer.
“Candi, our dog and our unborn son.”
“Maverick,” I choked. My arms went around his neck, my cheeks brushed against the short stubble along his jaw, and my body leaned into his body and I held him because it hurt. It hurt me that he’d lost so much even though I couldn’t possibly fathom what it would be like to lose a spouse or a child. I was so sheltered in that regard; I didn’t even know what it was like to lose a dog.
It made me understand him a little better. The man that stuck to himself because his heart had already been cut wide open. Was this why he didn’t do relationships in the traditional sense? He didn’t hug me back. Not yet. His hand came up tentatively and it was light as a feather as he rested it against my lower back.
“It was a long time ago.”
“How long ago?” I stayed where I was, unwilling to let him go. It was slightly awkward because he wasn’t necessarily hugging me back, not like that first hug when he’d wrapped his arms around me.
“When I was about your age.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. Thatcher never told me anything about that.”
He left his hand on my back and even though I knew I should let go of him, I didn’t. Not yet. Not right away. Because I was too selfish. He smelled fresh. He felt right. He was letting me do this. It’d been too long since I’d been pressed up this close to a man. I shifted my bare feet, well-aware that something in the air had changed and I enjoyed the hard length of him. Really hard. His erection. Firm. Large. Unmistakable.
I froze.
His hands moved up my body. Softly. Painfully slow. Teasingly. Up my sides. His fingertips left trails of heat as he moved them along the curves of my braless breasts. I knew if he palmed my nipples he would feel how hard they were. He continued moving over my arms. He captured my wrists and began to unwind them from around his neck.
“I’m not a superhero. I can’t ignore the fact that you aren’t wearing a bra, despite what we were discussing. Please go put a bra on, Gracie,” his low, guttural voice whispered close to my ear.
I shivered, impressed he used the word ‘please.’ I wanted this to be the moment. That moment where I forced his hand. He would either kiss me or he wouldn’t. He was here. He came here for me. To offer an apology of sorts. A Maverick apology. Where he didn’t technically say he was sorry but gave me a piece of him instead. If I kissed him, would he kiss me back? I was so goddamn close to him. His eyes glistened.
I bet he would.
I stood on my tiptoes and shifted even closer into him. I placed my lips against his, ever so softly. It was more of a sweet kiss than anything else and for a moment his lips wouldn’t move. Then, when my tongue darted out and licked the seam of his lips, he growled and opened his mouth and kissed me back. It turned from sweet to sinful in a second, which I expected when he took control. I whimpered as he bit my bottom lip and his hands traveled down the sides of my gym shorts. Go there, please. When he hesitated, I gripped his wrist and pushed his hand further down into my shorts and beneath the edge of my panties – making it clear what I wanted.
Until his fingers found my heat and I was certain he wouldn’t turn back, I let him go. He groaned as he pushed a finger into me and I tightened around him. He trailed kisses down my neck and along my collar bone, nibbling on my ear as he used his fingers to bring me to a much-needed orgasm. It hadn’t taken me long at all and I was shocked. He waited until I enjoyed every last feeling inside of me, before pulling his hand from my panties and separating himself from me. His eyes were dark, his pupils full, as he and I stood toe to toe with one another.
“I’ve already warned you not to play games with me. Go and change,” he demanded as his eyes moved to my chest.
I glanced down, too. The thin material didn’t help hide the hard points. Of course, they were hard because between my thighs was crazy too. Wanting so much more of what he’d just given me a taste of.
“I’m not playing games with you. You came over here. You believe in something between us, otherwise you wouldn’t have come over. What do you want, Maverick? What do you want from me? Let’s do more of that.”
For once, he was befuddled. His hand shot through his hair. He went to speak and then closed his mouth.
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have come over here. Thatcher would not appreciate this. I better go. Are you going to bring the mutt back tonight?”
Exasperated, I turn
ed and walked to the door. “This has to stop. You either want me enough or you don’t. Simple as that.”
“It’s not as simple as that. I have years of friendship with your brother. He’s loyal. He’s never asked me for anything. Without pointedly asking me, he’s made it clear he wants me to stay away from you and look at me, I’m bringing you a fucking apple peeler with a side of orgasm.”
My heart stung because therein lay the answer. He didn’t want me enough. Not enough to go to Thatcher and bring me up.
“A simple ‘not enough’ would have been fine.”
“What? You don’t think I want you enough, Grace? Give me a fucking break. Ever since you took over my house, you’re all I’ve thought about. Your prim and properness, how you let my sarcasm roll off you like you don’t even know I’m being that way. How your heart is so full of sunshine, it almost makes me hope that you’ll spread some of that shit into my world. The way you love that damn mutt like he rescued you and not the other way around. How you don’t even realize you’re a queen who runs the world. I want you plenty enough, Grace. Manicure and all.”
“You know-”
“I know all about manicures and pedicures. I’ve avoided women like you since Candi. For a reason. I can’t go through all of that again. Women like you deserve more than I can offer. That was what I meant at my house. You’re too good. Instead of getting angry I said that, you should be fucking proud. You are good. You’re intelligent and successful. You’re a bombshell. I can’t promise you anything and you deserve more than that. Thatcher knows that. I know it.” He shook his head and I was shocked because he’d never said more than two sentences to me. Now he was telling me all of this?
“I’m out. Lock that fucking door behind me.” Before he left, he stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a cookie off the platter, then shoved it in his mouth as he crossed the threshold.
Chapter Eight
Maverick
I stood in my kitchen, too wired to sit down. I was in a foul mood. Why had I let that shit fly out of my mouth? Why? It was like her goodness was beginning to rub off on me. All her sunshine crap. The need to show her the real me. Not the me where she thought I had no feelings. Boy, did I have plenty when I was touching her the way I had. How was I going to ever turn away from that?
I had more feelings than I knew what to do with. It was easier to ignore all of them. If I ignored that stuff and didn’t fall for anyone, I was better off. I’ve had my share of betrayal, loss and heartache with my parents, as well as Candi and the accident. I didn’t need more. Grace seemed to bring that out of me.
This didn’t even constitute whatever the hell Thatcher would have to say about it. He’d made it clear a few months ago when I’d brought her up at the feed store. Something about her walking to and from school. How pretty she’d looked and stuck up. I’d always got that impression from her. Anyway, he’d made it clear enough that I didn’t need to ask about her because he didn’t want me to go near her.
Hells bells, that was easier said than done.
She wasn’t hoity-toity like I thought.
I was realizing she was much more than that.
She was interesting. Full of contradictions. While she was into saying please and thank you, she had no problem listening to me fuck another woman. While she felt the need to bring over dessert, she suggested we hide whatever this was from her brother. While she pretended she was on top of the world, I sensed her loneliness. She happily received orgasms while she had cookies cooling. Although she acted like she didn’t need anyone, she looked to me for praise and honesty.
What if I broached the topic with Thatcher? Yeah, screw that. I was going crazy. Asking Thatcher if I could maybe fuck his little sister and admit that no, I wasn’t sure what else I wanted to do with her, was something I would not do under any circumstances. The idea sounded foolish even to me.
It took all my control not to finish what I’d started earlier. At least not the way I wanted when she hugged me. How was it that she was sticking to me? I wanted to give her more than the one orgasm. It was the little things she did that kept her in my mind. The way she spoke to the mutt. Come here baby, are you happy to see me? The way she baked. Jesus. Why hadn’t I stolen more than the one cookie? How obvious it was that she loved teaching even though she didn’t get paid squat. The way she reminded me of what it was like to be happy with someone else and have a companion.
I scrubbed my facial hair with my hand. That was the answer. I’ve known it all along, it was easy to forget it every time I didn’t see her. When she wasn’t around, I wanted to see her. When she was around, I wanted to be near her. The answer was to avoid her. Avoid her good stuff – all that that entailed – as well as her damn mutt. Avoid her sugary breath and those hugs of hers. Avoid seeing her braless and avoid the idea of playing with her tits with my hands, my mouth, my dick.
Avoid giving her orgasms.
I cracked open a beer and took a long pull. I had to get her and the mutt out of here. Permanently. That was the solution. Though I’d never been one to break under pressure, I feared how much longer I could go before I did more than go down her pants and do something that would fuck up my friendship with Thatch. Borderline, what I already did could very well be in the running.
Avoiding her was the only solution.
She wasn’t going to be happy but I had no other choice. The more I was around her, the more I wanted to put our relationship first and mine and Thatcher’s second.
Later that night, I heard her unlock the front door and usher her stray inside. I hadn’t seen any lost dog ads around town. Not even one at the feed store which was where everyone posted anything they wanted people to see. I was going to have to ask her about that.
By text.
Unfortunately, in this old house, everything could be heard through the thin doors. Walls too, if you asked Grace. There she went again talking to her damn mutt as if it could speak back to her. Here baby. I’ll be back in the morning. Settle down. Yeah, he’s here, I know. But we aren’t going to worry about that. Maybe someday he’ll let you sleep with him but for now, it’s the crate. I know, baby.
Dear God, her soft baby voice floated over the entire house. She just went on and on with him. Come on, baby. I’ll let you outside once more, then it’s bed. The sliding glass door vibrated the window panes in my room as she slid it open. The creak in the kitchen told me she didn’t go outside with the dog and as I laid there, I wondered what she would do if I strolled out there and kissed her.
She’d let me take what I wanted. I could taste her willingness across my tongue when I breathed her in. She would give herself so easily to me – just as she had at her apartment.
I wasn’t the only one surprised by this attraction. I knew she was just as shocked as I was. A second-grade teacher. A biker such as myself. It was far-fetched to think we could have anything. If I was in Thatcher’s shoes, I’d be warning my friends to stay the fuck away from her too.
Was that humming? Christ. She was humming in the kitchen and hearing the footfalls of her walking down the hallway, my heart and breath stilled.
“Maverick?”
“Grace?”
“Are you awake?”
“What do you want, Grace?”
“I left you some cookies on the counter.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Good night. I’m going to let Echo back in and head home. Unless…”
Unless? No. No unlesses. Not even.
“Good night, Grace.”
Her delicate sigh wafted over the door and even though something in my heart stuttered at that sigh, it made me smile. I could hear her silence. The things she wasn’t saying. Yeah, I felt them too. Not moving back down the hall yet. I could picture her cute face still and thoughtful as she held her hand on her hip deciding what her next move should be. She was something. So far, she’d been the one to shock me, I wouldn’t put it past her to do something else like that. Maybe walk in here naked? Especially because she se
emed to have no qualms about going behind Thatcher’s back and sleeping with his best friend. Older best friend. We were twelve years apart and it didn’t feel like that.
Not one bit.
She wasn’t what my thirty-nine-year-old-self envisioned a twenty-seven-year-old female to be like. She wasn’t texting non-stop; she wasn’t calling all her girlfriends all the time and chatting incessantly like the girls I’d see at the grocery store. She sure as hell wasn’t out dating and going out clubbing. What had she told me? The few guys she’d fucked. Hmmm. How many guys had it been?
“Okay…well, good night, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Grace.”
Finally, I heard her retreat. Once the sliding glass door opened and shut and I was certain she’d went out the front door, I got out of bed. Sure enough, there was a wrapped paper platter of the cookies from earlier sitting on my counter. No. I couldn’t eat them. This had to become a rule.
I peeled back the wrapper and my nostrils were filled with the fresh cookie scent from earlier. Maybe I could have just one. Then put the rule in place. I pulled one of the soft morsels from the platter. Unlike earlier, I took my time and noticed that I could feel how perfectly soft the cookie was. My stomach growled and because no one would know but me, I ate it. Savoring every bit of white chocolate and nut as it played over my tongue.
Just one. That was it. That was the last time.
For added effect, I threw the entire platter into the trash. Damn, that was vicious. Sad to see the cookies go, but it was going to be worse if I was in a perpetual state of being pussy-whipped with my hands tied behind my back.
I had to avoid her kitchen skills. Much like I had to avoid conversation with her.
So that was what I did. The entire week went by and I avoided Grace and all of her baked goods. A few times she came over and I was home but I’d managed to avoid conversation because I pretended to be busy with the bike in the garage or I quickly hopped on my bike, claiming I had somewhere I had to be. Almost every day, except her last day of school, she brought something over. Apple pie, these little lemon things with sugar sprinkled on top, apple fritters and then more cookies.
Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3) Page 9
