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

by Ashley Bostock

  “I was in the neighborhood and saw him working on his bike so I asked him about it. Conversation piece you know. It was his dad’s. He was pulling me away because you know how sentimental I can be about things.”

  She made a show of swiping beneath her eye as she pretended to feign sadness. Her triumphant blue eyes bored into mine. Her brother stared at me with the same blue eyes as his sister and I faked a smile.

  “As long as that was all it was,” Thatcher said, totally buying into her lie.

  “Anyway, what’s up, man?” I asked.

  “Abby and I are having a barbeque tonight. Some salesmen who I do business with will be there, Ryan and Miranda, and of course some neighbors. It’s late notice so I thought I’d run by and see if you were home. You’re invited too, Grace. Whose dog?” Thatcher asked.

  “She’s mine. For now. I found her and haven’t been able to find the owner yet. Do you know anyone that she might belong to?”

  “Nope,” he scratched his head. “I haven’t heard of anyone missing a dog. Usually people will come into the feed store and mention something. Why don’t you put some flyers up on my board in there?” Thatcher told her.

  “I-” she began, but got cut off when Thatcher held up his finger to answer his phone.

  She bit her bottom lip and it occurred to me that Gracie had just been caught in a lie. I growled as Thatcher took a few steps back to talk to the caller.

  “You’re lying. You haven’t asked anyone about the damn mutt, have you?”

  “I said I would.”

  “Yeah, when? She can’t stay here forever.”

  “It’s just that the person who lost her obviously didn’t care about her so I didn’t find it prudent enough to remind people about her. I want to keep her.”

  “Goddamn it, Grace-” I started.

  “That was Abby. She wants me back at the house. Like I said, come over. Dinner time.” Thatcher said.

  “Should I bring something?” Grace asked.

  “Nope. Abby’s got it covered. Cap? You going to come or what?” Thatcher asked me.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I told him.

  “Good. See you both later. Bring the dog, Grace. Thayer will love him.”

  He waved and jogged across the street to his truck, hopped in and tore off. Where was I?

  “The mutt can’t stay here forever. Find something to do with it. I know she can’t stay with you, so you better figure something out.”

  Deciding it was time to get cleaned up, I stalked to the front door and went inside leaving Grace and her mutt standing alone in the driveway. Her voice drifted in, her mutt voice, and it was just as well that I couldn’t make out the words.

  The urge to kiss her hadn’t gone away and I damn near wanted to go back out there and finish the job. I unlaced my boots and kicked them off, reached behind me and pulled my sweaty shirt off over my head and undid the buttons on my dirty jeans.

  “I have to get used to you undressing like this.”

  I cocked my head back to look over my shoulder. Grace stood on the other side of the screen door, dog in hand, watching me intently.

  “If you don’t like it, you-”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a man look quite the way you do is all. Well, actually, never. I’ve never seen a man look the way you do.”

  She ventured to open the screen door, her eyes cast down as she let the dog jump from her hands where it immediately went to its water bowl, took a few lapfuls and jumped onto the sofa where it nestled in for a nap.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  She stepped inside, her body inches from mine. “I’m dirty. I’ve been working. I probably have grease in my hair.” I defended myself.

  “I didn’t mean the dirtiness. I meant your body. How it looks.”

  She shifted her feet and I fought back a smile. “How does it look?”

  Those eyes of hers burned fire low in my belly as she slowly eyed my briefs, my stomach and chest and then met my eyes.

  “Huh? How does it look?”

  The pulse in her neck beat wildly as she swallowed. A light pink tinged her cheeks. “Like a man. A real man. Who takes care of his body.”

  Fuck it.

  My hands gripped her ugly shirt yet again and I pushed her back into the wall that separated the screen door and the front window. Her nails clawed at my shoulders and my lips were on hers, tasting her. Desperation. Temptation. Excitement. Arousal. All that was between us.

  And it was fucking addicting.

  She was fire and sweetness all rolled into one. Her soft whimpers, her greedy hands with those sharp, manicured nails digging into my bare back. Her tongue met mine thrust for thrust. When she gave, I greedily took. The two of us together like this was a dust devil taking up residence in my living room. Small, yet full of its own life, living off itself.

  I could take her right here. Right fucking now and not give a crap about the consequences. To hell with all of that. She was sunshine and my body and soul needed to feel the heat of her along every square inch. To warm me from the outside in. Slowly thaw the coldness inside of me. To take me to a place I’d only been once in my life.

  She could be my haven from the hell I lived with in my mind. The anger and confusion of how Candi got killed in the accident and why it wasn't me. The tormented soul of having screwed up parents. The eternal bachelorhood because of those incidents.

  “Don't stop, Maverick.”

  She panted as I pulled my mouth away from hers. Her bite stinging my bottom lip. Damn. I swiped at it and checked for blood.

  “Don't stop? Tell me what you want me to do. Huh, Princess?”

  “Anything.”

  Her eyes closed and her head fell back against the wall. Her chest heaved. Her chin was pink from whisker burn. Her lips wet and delectable.

  Jesus.

  “How many guys have you fucked?”

  Her eyes opened wide, her eyebrows rose high on her forehead. I didn't need to know this stuff. Why did I bring it up? I wanted confirmation that she was as inexperienced in the bedroom as I believed she was. I shouldn’t care.

  “Just four.”

  “Never with an older man like me?” I asked. Because let's face this head on. Even if this were to ever get past Thatcher, I was twelve years older than her.

  “No. If you think it bothers me, it doesn't,” she sassed.

  “Maybe it should.”

  “Why?” She breathed deep and her chest rose and fell between us. How badly I wanted to see her skin again.

  “Why are you always covering these?” My fingers skimmed the front of her ugly shirt. The fabric was soft and delicate. Thin. I could rip the material with my hands.

  “Because they’re too big. I hate them.”

  I arched a brow at her in question.

  “They hurt my back. And they don't even fit the rest of my body.”

  “Back pain, I get. But I told you they’re perfect. You hide them like they’re Fort Knox.”

  “Why do you get to ask all the questions?”

  “Because I'm the boss.”

  “What happened to you before? You seem so cynical now. I want to know the real story. Not fluff.”

  I should have expected this from her. Why it felt like Saran Wrap placed over my face then, I couldn't explain. Without saying her name, I knew she meant Candi. Candi was all I had. She breathed light into my soul and without her, I simply lived. Day to day, I did what I was supposed to do. Most days I worked at the shop, welding anything broken on balers to bobcats to building pole barns for customers. There was a gaggle of old ladies in town that I built benches for using old metal bed frames for the backs.

  Why I didn't see her question about Candi coming, could only be attributed to the fact that Grace had me star-struck.

  “Not fluff? Okay. She was seven months pregnant with our child. A son, come to find out later, when she hit a cow in the middle of the road. A fucking cow. A bull. Hit it head-on. It wasn't until the doctors thoug
ht there might be a chance to save the baby that I found out it was a boy. Is that good enough for you? No fluff?”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes and her fists came to my chest, exerting enough pressure that I knew she wanted me to back away. Fine. Backing away I could do. It was what I was good at.

  “What? Isn't this what you asked for? What you wanted? To try and figure out poor Cap, why is he so alone? Working on his bikes all the time? Why isn't he out doing what normal men do? Playing golf or what-the-fuck-ever guys my age do. Being a husband or some poor kid’s dad.”

  “Screw you. I wasn't thinking that!”

  “No, Princess? Then what were you thinking?”

  “That you're so goddamn judgmental. That's what I was thinking. Hasn’t it occurred to you that that I’m not thinking of you in a negative way all the time but a good way? Well, sometimes. You can be awfully rude and presumptuous!” She folded her arms over her chest and released a loud sigh. “I only want to get to know you.” She admitted in a low voice.

  “Why? I can't be the man you want. Aside from the whole issue with Thatch, it's not me. I'm not looking for long-term. I don't do long-term.”

  “I didn't ask for long-term. In fact, I haven't asked you for anything except to take care of Echo, whom you despise anyway. Give me you. Just for now, the next few weeks or however long it lasts. Just give me you. Put out this fire that burns inside of me for you. Put it out so I can move on.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace

  Don't move. I prayed for Echo to stay curled up on the couch so nothing would break this moment. One thing, one ring of the phone, one yap from the puppy, and Maverick would move on to something else. I had him right here and I wanted him to say yes. Yes, to giving me a piece of him. Even if it was surface Maverick and not the depths of himself.

  I wanted it. I wanted him so badly.

  My instinct told me this was the guy. He would pleasure me the way I needed. He would do things to me that I’d only read about in the Delta Motorcycle Club Series. And he would do them five times over.

  “Just sex?” His eyebrow rose in that endearing way of his. His mouth twitched up into a smile and my already damp panties became soaked as his eyes roamed over my body. How could I be so attracted to someone who was so opposite of what I’d originally found attractive? His unbuttoned jeans, his massive bulge beneath his boxer shorts and the way he had his arms folded across his chest, he looked ready to take on the world, and that confidence was so attractive.

  “Just sex. Or whatever else. Short-term. We both know the rules. It can end in a few weeks and we can avoid the entire issue of my brother. Pretend like we're not doing anything. After a few weeks, no one has to know anything.”

  “That’s it? You’re fine with me doing what I did to Tiffany with you? Fucking you and sending you home? You want me to treat you like I treat them?”

  Them? “Well, no…not exactly,” I stammered, “not if you treat them mean-”

  “Gracie, this is what I'm talking about. You're too damn good. You can't do this. Have you ever had a one-night stand?”

  “Eww. No. I'm not going to sleep with someone I don't know.”

  “You don't know me.”

  “I do some. I know you like to work on motorcycles, although I don't understand why. I know you have to have the radio on rock when you’re out there working. I know Toys for Tots has a special place in your heart. I know you care about my brother. I know the difference between your look of triumph and your look of arousal-”

  “What?”

  “It's true. When you think all I do is come over and chatter non-stop to you and you think I'm not paying attention, I am. I can see when you're working on that bike, like the other day when you kept messing with those wire thingies and got the lights working, the way your eyes lit up and the creases along your forehead disappeared. The way you look at me sometimes, like outside. I can feel your fire. I can see the torment in your eyes—how you want to touch me again but think you shouldn’t. I may not know everything about you, but I know you.”

  “So fucking me a few times you're okay with?”

  “You intrigue me, what can I say?” I’d never begged for anything in my life. I practically felt like I should add a please in there to soften him up. What was I thinking? Did I know what I was getting myself into?

  I was a terrible liar. What would I do if my brother asked me about him? Could I cover? Could I look the one family member who’s been there for me for everything since I was a baby, directly in the eye and lie to him if he asked me if I slept with his best friend?

  “Having doubts, Princess?”

  My lady parts twitched in response to the rumble of his voice. His bottomless whiskey-tinted eyes seared through me, watching, waiting. As if I were his prey and he was considering when he should pounce.

  “No second thoughts. You're either in or you’re out. I'm not asking again,” I said.

  “Now who’s being the boss?” he chided.

  “Is that a yes or a no, Maverick?”

  His eyes darkened and my heart flew into orbit, I got him!

  “Fuck yes,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Thank you. I’m glad that’s settled. I have go. I need to bake a cake or something to take to Thatcher’s tonight.”

  “All that and you have to go?” he asked in surprise.

  “I have to go. I can’t be late to Thatcher’s.”

  He grunted and I laughed.

  Once I gathered up Echo, I turned back to him, “I don't know where to begin with you, Maverick, so I might need a push in the right direction.”

  When I got to my brother’s I was surprised to see Mabel there. She was wearing another nice dress that she usually only reserved for my father’s dinner parties. She sat next to Harold Coleman, a man who was probably Mabel’s age and I guessed, was here with her.

  Mabel dated? Was this why she had been looking so kept up when I saw her at my parents?

  “Mabel,” I came around and hugged her. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Hi. I’m Grace.” I held out my hand to Harold, whom I’d never met face to face.

  “Grace, this is Harold. He’s a good friend of mine.”

  “Hello, young lady. Mabel is always going on about the wonderful baking you do. Congratulations on winning the pie auction.”

  I beamed, delighted that Mabel, a master cook and baker in her own right, was pleased enough with my baking skills that she had told him. Winning the auction was all over town at this point so I wasn’t surprised he knew.

  “Thanks, Mabel. Though she is quite a cook herself.”

  “Oh, child. I’ve had years of experience. Your apple pie tastes like you’ve had years and years of practice.”

  I squeezed Mabel’s hand and as I walked away from the couple, noticing another group of men off to the side. Two of them hadn’t the decency to look away, staring at my chest like I was an alien. I peeked a glance down and it dawned on me that my top I’d changed into feeling more confident after what happened at Maverick’s, showed much more cleavage than I normally showed.

  My confidence dimmed at their bulging eyes. What had I been thinking? I turned away from them immediately wishing I’d brought a cover up.

  While I'd gone home and baked some apple turnovers and peach-filled miniature pies, showered and was at my brother’s house promptly at five, Maverick hadn't shown up yet.

  I was still secretly hoping he would show up at some point as I sat there pretending to be oblivious to the group of men who kept staring at me. When the sound of his motorcycle echoed through the backyard, my heart beat loudly in my chest. It was all I could do not to jump up and greet him. How did one even act in our situation? Did I pretend I hardly knew him? Flirt with him? Ignore him completely? I ran my fingers along the saltless rim of my margarita glass wondering what I should say or do when the man in question slid the screen door open and walked out carrying a six-pack of beer.

  Why did my heart have to flutter? I don't t
hink he owned anything besides black t-shirts and seeing him in one wasn't something to write home about. Shouldn't be anyway. But when our eyes locked and my name rolled off his mouth in greeting, my damn heart heated my chest, sending a fireball straight down into my belly where it threatened to heat the apex of my thighs.

  “Maverick. Good evening.”

  Echo ran up to him and jumped at his legs. Poor dog still hadn't gotten the memo. Surprising me, he bent down and gave a slight ruffle to the top of her head and that flutter of mine went straight into a heart attack with the way he acknowledged her.

  “That’s Echo,” Thayer, my nephew, told Maverick. “Isn't she sweet? Her and Spider-Man get along great.”

  “Is that so, Little Man?”

  “Yeah, she even eats his lettuce.”

  I laughed, “I don't think you should let Echo eat any more of your turtle’s dinner. Save that for him.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “Will you play Hide and Seek with me?”

  “Of course. But let's wait until it gets dark? It's much more fun to play in the dark.” I glanced at Maverick and his eyes flickered in the light of the Tiki torches. Did he just smirk?

  “Cap, bout time you showed up.” Thatcher, who’d been talking to Lorna, his mother in law, stepped toward us and clasped Maverick’s hand.

  “Thought I was going to be here earlier but something came up.”

  “You go see your dad?”

  What? I didn't realize Maverick spoke to his imprisoned father. I don't know why I would. It's not like he told me much. It was still a surprise. I tried not to let the news bother me as I sipped my margarita, listening even more intently on the conversation while pretending not to.

  “Nah, had business to deal with at Lazy Dogs.”

  My brother laughed, “Tiffany kind of business?”

  Maverick’s gaze locked on mine because I couldn’t help but look when I heard that. “No, not that kind of business. Looking at doing a few upgrades to the place and Hoop asked me to follow him out.”

  “I don't understand. Why would you do upgrades there?” I asked.

  “Because he owns it, Grace. You didn't know that?”