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

by Ashley Bostock

  His eyes were dark chocolate unwavering, but I knew he was feeding me a line. This couldn’t be possible. Not after the way he was with me. I was different than Tiffany. He treated me differently. We were different.

  He headed for the door, nothing more left to say between us. His jeans stretched taut across his butt and I resisted the urge to pinch it, to turn him around and throw myself into his arms because ninety percent of me knew he would welcome me despite his unkind words.

  “Whatever, Maverick. Answer me just one question though. Did you tell Tiffany about Candi? Does she know all about that?”

  He glanced back as he opened the door and gave me one last hard look before shutting it gently in my face.

  Ha.

  I didn’t think so.

  Immediately I retrieved my phone and dialed my brother. That fucker. Who did he think he was?

  “To what do I owe the pl-”

  “How dare you! What did you say to Maverick? He wants nothing to do with me now.”

  “Nothing. I didn’t say anything. About what?”

  “About me,” I seethed with anger.

  “Let’s get something straight right now, Gracie. Don’t fucking lie to me. Y’all have been going behind my back for weeks. I believed you at first. Now, all you’ve been doing is lying to me. What the fuck, Grace? Do you think I’m that stupid? I just went through this with Abby. You don’t think I know when a female is all hot and bothered by a dude?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “The hell it isn’t. You keep doing it. You’re lying. I know you, Grace. I know Cap. I deserve some goddamn honesty,” he demanded. “Especially from you.”

  I sighed, coming back to reality. Especially from you. What was I thinking? Maverick was clearly just a drop in the bucket and here I was hiding things from my own flesh and blood. He wasn’t the victim here, but I didn’t need to lie to him. He who was my one and only. The only guy that was on my side. The only family member I could count on.

  “Fine,” I said as the guilt seeped into my bones. “Are you ready to hear what happened or are you going to go caveman-like and not listen? I need someone to listen, Thatcher.”

  He drew a long sigh as I waited for his answer. In a quiet voice, he warned, “I’m listening. But, don’t make me kill him, Grace.”

  “Oh shut up. You aren’t going to do that. Now, do you want to hear this or not?”

  “By all means.”

  “We had…something, okay? It was brief but it was something. We talked. Confided in one another. He told me about Candi. We went and-”

  “I thought he watched the dog?” Thatcher asked completely clueless.

  “He did. No, actually, he let Echo stay at his house. I had to go over there and take care of her. At a minimum three times a day. He gave me a key. God, he was so unhelpful about her. So closed off. Then he started listening to me. All about work and the catty, back-stabbing women there that I’m forced to be civil with. He listened to me. He never judged me about that kind of stuff. Never judged me about my…”

  “About your what?”

  “He never judged me about my chest.”

  “Are you still on that? What guy ever judges a woman about big tits?”

  “Yes, Thatcher, I’m still on that. It’s easy for you to say when you aren’t the one that deals with the looks and everything else. It wasn’t like that with Maverick. He wasn’t like that. He listened. He cared. Much more than you have done, lately. I know you might think he pulled the wool over my eyes, but I don’t. He showed me a different side of him.”

  “I’m finding it hard to believe when all he cared about was living the solo life. Doing his bike thing and fucking whatever woman he wanted.”

  That stung. It was true once upon a time, but it felt like razor burn nonetheless.

  “I met his mother,” I confided even as the hurt rose in my chest.

  “What? You’re kidding.”

  “No, Thatcher. I met her and it’s not my story to tell you, maybe Maverick will someday. But you have to stop protecting me. Please.”

  “You’ve fallen for him.”

  Well, that wasn’t my plan. Clearly it didn’t make a difference because he hadn’t fallen for me. Not in the least. What did I do now? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to know that I still wanted him – not after the way he compared our relationship to that of his and Tiffany’s. Talk about a low blow. In the end, my brother took my silence for what it was.

  “I knew he would hurt you. And some of that is my fault. Sorry, Grace. If Cap could commit to you, I wouldn’t have a problem but he’s so non-committal when it comes to women.”

  “It’s my fault. I knew going into this Maverick wasn’t a keeper. Even if it felt that way for a while.” Yeah, even if it did feel that way these past few weeks. Especially when he gave me Candi’s old apple peeler. It was her grandmother’s and I knew in my heart that you didn’t just give those things away to people. Especially to people who didn’t mean anything to you.

  “You want me to send Abigail over? Y’all could visit or paint each other’s toenails or something?”

  I laughed, “No, brother. I’m perfectly fine. Go practice making babies. Are you still upset about the whole Maverick thing? What if he wasn’t the guy on a solo mission? Would it still bother you if he found your little sister worthwhile enough to pursue a relationship with?”

  “God Gracie, I don’t know, okay? Luckily for me, I don’t have to think about that anymore.”

  “Right. Because you ruined it. You ruined any chance I might have had with Maverick by opening your big fat mouth.”

  “I was only trying to protect you.”

  “Yeah, well you did a mighty fine job. He left now. We’re over.”

  I hung up on Thatcher. That was how our arguments always went down. We could joke and laugh and side-step any issue as long as we knew we still had each other. Whether it solved an argument or a problem, it was our way of clearing the air. I knew Maverick wasn’t looking for a relationship from the beginning, but I was still upset at Thatcher for meddling into my business.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maverick

  Talk about a sucker punch straight to the fucking gut. The look on Grace’s face when I brought up Tiffany made me feel like the biggest asshole in the world. Bigger than I’d ever felt in my whole life. And that was saying something.

  I hurt her and I was wrong for doing that.

  I had to say something to make her hate me. To make her believe that we were through. We had to be. She couldn’t be in love with me. She was too good. Too pure. Once I’d said it and her blue eyes turned to ice and she stopped breathing like someone hit her, I instantly felt that same look in my gut.

  I didn’t want a relationship and that was what she wanted. Deserved. I wasn’t the man who could give it to her, though.

  Was I?

  She was so perfect. At least that was how I saw her. I still couldn’t understand what it was she ever saw in me. We’re so different from one another. I was so dirty and crass. I was the guy who put a friend on the back burner to go rolling through the hay with his little sister. Behind his back. Even if she was encouraging me. She didn’t deserve someone like me. She deserved someone better.

  I popped open another beer, dying inside at what I’d done to Grace. That’s when I noticed Echo’s water bowl still sitting on the kitchen floor. Little pebbles of food lay alongside the food dish. And damn if that didn’t punch me in the gut, too.

  She loved that dog. Whatever happened between Grace and I, I wanted her to have that dog. She deserved it. It was so easy for that woman to fall in love. Her heart was so welcoming and eager. Bright. Just like the sun.

  Sunshine.

  For the next few days I sulked. I avoided Thatcher. I cleaned out my garage, made sure the floor was clean as it was ever going to be and got ready to paint the bike. I spent time cleaning the motorcycle frame with some soapy water and masked up everything I di
dn’t want paint on. I then used acrylic cleaner to clean it one last time to prepare it for painting. Once that was dry and I had proper circulation in there along with my face mask, I painted the Indian.

  Aside from that, I did the daily grind at work, squeezing in any extra over-time where I could. Anything to help me keep my mind off Grace and Echo. Anything to stop wondering what Grace was doing, if she was dating some dumbass, if she went to the doctor for her consult. What the doctor said.

  “It’s done. Did you paint it yourself?” Her melodic voice was music to my ears.

  I turned on my knee to make sure I wasn’t dreaming but there she was. All five feet and ten inches of her hourglass figure standing in my driveway. The sun shone behind her making her blue top sparkle. Her hair wasn’t straight like she always wore it. Instead she’d let it go to its natural state of haphazard curls and I couldn’t have recalled if I’d ever seen anything more beautiful.

  She had on a pair of white cutoff jeans and I was desperate to get my dirty hands all over them. To mark like a dog marked his territory. In her hands, she held an aluminum covered dish which made my stomach growl even though I didn’t know what it was. Dog shit probably. After the things I said to her, I would have deserved it.

  I pulled my sunglasses off my face and shoved them into the collar of my shirt, taking in every ounce of her. Her toes were painted a girly shade of pink that matched her fingernails and her mile-long legs were darker than the last time I’d seen her. My gut turned with the knowledge that I let this go. That I fucked this up.

  What had I been thinking? That I could save Grace from someone like me, when all I really wanted was to be something to her? For her to feel like she could count on me. When I ended it with her, it hadn’t sat well in my heart and seeing her now confirmed how wrong I’d been.

  “Yeah,” I said. My throat was dry, feeling like it was going to collapse. “I painted it myself.”

  “Willow green and ivory cream. It looks beautiful.”

  “So do you, by the way.”

  I still affected her, if the warming in her eyes meant anything, and that boosted my self-esteem to levels I hadn’t experienced in days. She was right about the paint job, though—I was damn proud of the way the colors turned out.

  “Are you going to take it out for a ride soon?”

  “Haven’t decided yet. It was my dad’s. Maybe it’s fated for disaster.”

  “A bike that beautiful couldn’t possibly be doomed for disaster. Not when it’s that good.”

  “Are we still talking about the bike?”

  “What else would I be talking about?” she asked innocently.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She dug into the small front pocket of her cutoffs and retrieved my silver house key and wiggled it in the air. “I brought this back. Being since I don’t need it anymore. And today’s your birthday. I brought you an apple pie. A peace offering.”

  I wanted her to keep the damn key. I couldn’t say that, though. Not when I was the one who ended our temporary arrangement. Multiple nights I’d laid in bed and waited for her to use the key. To let herself in and give me the what-for for ending things between us. For her to call bullshit on my bullshit.

  “You didn’t upend the peace. I did.”

  She shrugged her shoulder, “I pretended like temporary was okay even when I knew I was getting in deep. Happy Birthday.”

  “You’re the first person in three years to wish me a happy birthday on my actual birthday. First person in about ten to bring me a birthday present.”

  “The apple pie wasn’t my first choice.”

  “What was your first choice?”

  A faint blush colored her cheeks, looking a lot like how she did when I made her orgasm on my mouth. Was she ready for me now? If I got up and drug her to my bike, opened her legs, would I find what I’ve been craving these past few days?

  More importantly, would she let me?

  She sent me a look that read what the hell do you think I’d give you and I chuckled because maybe it was just me that wanted to bend her over this new seat and thrust into her harder than she’s ever had in her life.

  “No luck on finding Echo?” I asked.

  “None. There is this new place in Deer Creek called the Blue Heeler Animal Sanctuary but they haven’t seen her. I’ve called every day for the past few weeks. It’s a no-kill shelter so thankfully if they ever find her, nothing will happen to her.”

  “Sounds familiar.” I stood from my crouched position and wiped my hands on a towel, wondering what her shorts would look like with my big palms imprinted on the back pockets. I inched toward her, aware of the fire in her eyes.

  She held the key out for me like she was afraid to get her fingers dirty and I covered her wrist, held my other hand palm up beneath hers and shook the key from her fingertips into my palm. She was trembling and I got the feeling that she wanted to tell me off for ditching her.

  “I’m so disappointed in you, Maverick,” she whispered.

  Yeah, didn’t I fucking know it? I could see the pain in her eyes. It was in the air between us, suffocating me. I could feel it wrapping itself along the edges of my heart.

  Stupidly, I asked, “Why, Princess?”

  “You gave me her apple peeler,” she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she was searching mine. “Why would you do that if this meant nothing to you? I don’t believe you. I deserve more of an explanation than what you gave me. A truthful one.”

  I let go of her hand so I wouldn’t be tempted to bring it to my mouth, whisper apologizes into her palm, beg her to take me back and tell her about Lori.

  “You broke your word, Gracie.”

  “What? What word?”

  “That you only wanted this to be temporary. You lied to Thatcher that you wouldn’t get hurt and I’ve already hurt you. I don’t know if I can do forever.”

  “You keep saying that but your actions over the past month and a half are completely different.”

  “I needed to step back and look at the big picture.”

  Without another word, her eyes alight with a different kind of fire, she shoved the apple pie into my hands and stalked down the driveway, the pie plate burning my palms.

  “Ouch. Fuck.”

  There weren’t many times in my life I wanted to scream but this was one of them. When my phone started ringing, I managed to catch the pie mid-air before I could set it on my work bench and fumbled to get the damn phone up to my ear.

  “Cap, here.”

  “I gotta line on the kid.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Deer Creek like you told me. They’re staying at a trailer park.” I heard some papers ruffle through the line and then, “Magnolia Blossom Park. Number forty-nine.”

  “Is he by himself?”

  “Nope. Two other guys are staying with him.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Thanks for the info.”

  “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll ride over, too, if you need that.”

  How bad could it be? “I think it’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  I disconnected and wrote alongside my notes ‘49’ so I wouldn’t forget. As if seeing Grace today wasn’t enough, now this. I eyed the apple pie and a second later I was inside savoring each bite. Damn, the woman sure knew how to bake. Every bite I took filled me with an odd sensation of having both Candi and Grace in my heart. What once was and what was the future.

  “Could have been the future,” I spoke aloud to myself. Because that was just another in the long line of shit I’d fucked up and ruined in my life. The fact that she remembered my birthday and brought me a pie told me she didn’t completely hate my guts. I was the idiot here. Not her.

  I was the one who insisted that I couldn’t do relationships. If you tried you could, idiot. Try as I might, I couldn’t necessarily believe that. Somehow, the thought of anyone depending on me gave me the jitters. Anyone except her. That would be what Grace would want. Deserved. She
already was, too. She was coming to find me as someone she could trust and share things with. Her body. Her feelings about her chest. Those things that she didn’t dare confide with other people, she’d shared with me. And hadn’t I found that within her, too? I trusted her with my past about Candi and Corey. My mother.

  It would have worked with Candi if she hadn’t gotten killed. That’s the fucking truth. I would have cut a motherfucker up to make our relationship work. Where’d I lose that passion? When she died?

  Damn, why was I hashing this out?

  Because you love her, you fool. My heart raced as I thought about that. The way she smiled, the way she pretended like she didn’t need anyone – like she wasn’t lonely – the way she would chatter on and on about her behavior chart at school and the little tags the children were so eager to receive from Ms. Patterson. The way my heart clenched and my gut ached at the sight of her standing in my driveway, full of smiles. The way I missed her fucking sass and properness.

  “Mrs. Carter.” It rolled off my tongue before I had a chance to think about it. Since it had, I couldn’t ignore how it sounded. Sounded good. Grace Carter.

  Shit.

  I thought of my parents and how both of them had changed their lives. Granted, my father had to pay the time, but he managed to change himself on the inside. Same with my mother. I knew she hadn’t chosen to be an addict, but she worked on changing her life around and stayed strong enough to avoid a relapse.

  Why couldn’t I change? All I had to do was take a chance and give myself the opportunity to find happiness. I had found it. When I helped her steal the pie record from Mrs. Reynolds. That day at the lake. The night we made love. I was happy with Grace.

  Maybe for the first time in my life, I followed my parents’ examples. If they could change themselves and be happy, I could, too.

  I’m sure Thatcher was going to hang me by the balls for this one. That I was in love with his little sister.

  But nothing was going to stop me now. She was worth losing a friend over – if that was what it was going to come down to.