by Aliyah Burke
having a man who he could look up to. “Doesn’t matter, you
can’t. She’s not here.”
Maverick sighed. “Okay, but just to let you know, I’m
not going away.”
“Look, my mom needed you back then; we both did.
Not anymore. So feel free to go away and forget all about us.
That seems to be something you are damn good at.” Dakota
slammed the door in his face.
Maverick remained in front of the door for a moment
before turning around and walking back down the stone
walkway. This is going to be an uphill battle all the way. He
climbed on his bike and roared away without looking back.
At eight on that Friday night, Maverick walked in the
door to B’s Quarry. The place was full of people and loud
music. A live band was over on the stage rocking the house.
His dark eyes immediately moved to the bar and spotted
Tempest work with ease. Her body swayed in time with the
music but she never lost her focus on making drinks.
Tonight she wore a black halter top that cupped her
breasts fully. Her hair was clasped loosely at the back of her
neck. Even with the distance between them, he noticed the
sparkle of her earrings.
Sliding through the crowd, Maverick leaned on the bar
and waited to be helped.
“What can I get you,” the tone was distantly polite.
Tempest stood before him with a blue rag tossed over one
shoulder.
Immediately, Maverick scanned her body with his eyes.
Damn! She wore a pair of skintight black pants that held
everything perfectly and left nothing, yet everything, to the
imagination. “I’ll have an Old Fashioned, please.”
She grabbed the glass and began to mix his drink.
Within moments, it was moving across the teakwood to his
hand. “There you go.”
Handing over his money, Maverick held her gaze as she
reached for the bills. All he could see in it was anger and
resentment. “Keep the change,” he announced.
“Thanks,” she murmured before she slipped away,
leaving him alone in the huge crowd.
Since the stool he was beside had become vacant, he
took it. Placing his black boots on the foot railing on the bar, he
began to nurse his drink. Maverick ignored the glares he
received from his offspring and instead chose to keep his gaze
upon Tempest.
Damn him! Damn him for being here and looking so frickin’
hot. Tempest had to fight to keep her mind on her work.
Regardless of where she was or what she was doing, her eyes
always drifted back to the man sitting at the bar.
It was like he was the only one in the place; her gaze
skipped over everyone else and landed on him. What does he
want? For that matter, why do I care? He hadn’t flinched from her
gaze when she took his order, but she could tell he wanted
something.
I’m not feeling inclined to give him a damn thing. Still, as she
worked, her mind taunted her with the way his red shirt
stretched tightly across his chest and over those impressive
biceps.
A hand waving at her took her back down the bar to a
man who was sitting next to Maverick. No, he was Mr.
Lonetree. Or James. “Evening, Sparky,” Tempest said with a
smile. “Your usual?”
The man nodded as he placed a ten on the bar. “You
know it, darling.”
Tempest immediately went to work on his drink. As she
was pouring the ingredients from the blender into the glass,
she tilted her head at him. “So, how’re things?”
Sparky leaned forward on the bar, excitement filling his
green eyes. “Lovely. When we go out for dinner, I’ll tell you all
about it.”
Placing a Maraschino cherry on the top for garnish,
Tempest grinned. “Sounds like a plan. And here is your
Tsunami.” She took the money and walked off to help another
customer.
After that customer was content with drink in hand, she
moved back down to where Maverick and Sparky were. “Just
give me a call, Sparky, and we’ll do lunch, or breakfast.”
“Sounds like a plan, babe,” he said as he took a swig of
his drink.
Tempest sent Sparky a wink and moved off again.
Maverick stayed at the bar until closing. He didn’t try to talk to
her again, just watched her with those black pearls he had for
eyes.
“We’re closing up now; you have to leave,” Tempest
said as she wiped down the bar.
“I need to talk to you,” Maverick said, crossing those
thick arms and bringing her attention to all his rippling
pectorals.
“We have nothing to say to one another,” she snapped.
Tempest was tired; it had been a long night and her feet hurt.
“I didn’t know.” Maverick dropped his arms and placed
his hands on his thighs.
Those three words stopped her dead. A headache
swarmed in on her as the tension that she’d been holding in her
body threatened to burst. “You left the day you found out; why
come back?”
Maverick looked at the siren standing across from him.
Her arms were crossed defensively as she glared untrustingly
at him. “I was in shock about it. I left to go home and find
out—”
“Find out if I were lying to you or not?” Tempest shook
her head in disgust. “I don’t even know why I believed you
would come for me—you are so concerned about yourself.”
She slapped the rag down on the counter and said, “Go. We are
closed.”
As two of her bouncers approached, Maverick
reluctantly stood. “I’ll be back. I deserve a chance to explain.”
“I don’t owe you a damn thing,” she snarled and
pointed at the door. “Don’t mistake my being polite to you as a
customer for an opening to talk about this.”
Jaw clenching, Maverick gave her a brisk nod and spun
on his heels to walk out of the establishment, noticing how the
men locked the door behind him. Sitting on his bike, he drove
away as one by one the lights in B’s Quarry were extinguished.
After the place was empty, Tempest sat in her office.
Dakota was in the cellar doing some inventory, so for all intents
and purposes she was alone. She was at war with herself.
One the one hand, she was furious for the events that
had transpired in the past. On the other, if he were telling the
truth and he hadn’t known, then she couldn’t imagine not
having known her child. “What am I supposed to do?” she
asked the confines of her office.
Then there was the way her body reacted to his. It was
just like when she’d been a kid with a crush and he’d looked at
her, making her go all quivery. Now it was just amplified
exponentially. “I don’t need to be attracted to the father of my
child,” Tempest admonished herself.
Rushing through her work, she left the office in time to
see her son walk up from the cellar. “All done down there,
Dak?” she questioned.
“Sure am, Mama. Are you sure you aren’t going to need
me this weekend?”
“I’m sure. Go out on your date, have some fun. I’ll be
fine.” Tempest hugged her son. “But thanks for being so
thoughtful.”
“I’m taking her up to Sandia.” Dakota’s obsidian eyes
sparkled at that admission.
“Taking the Tram?” Tempest asked as they headed for
the backdoor. The Sandia Mountains bordered Albuquerque
and were a huge attraction for visitors and locals to visit.
“Nope, I was actually hoping I could use your vehicle.
We are going to have a picnic.”
Locking the door behind her, Tempest felt the sting of
tears in her eyes. She’d missed all of that. Dating, the romance,
everything that came with a wonderful relationship. “Of course
you can. I have no problem using your car…as long as it is full
on gas; and mine is when you return it.”
“Deal.”
“Do I need to make anything for you?’ she asked as they
walked to where they’d parked.
“Well, I know that Shelia loves your triple chocolate
cake,” he hedged.
“I think you are one spoiled kid. But I will make it for
you tomorrow.” She climbed in her vehicle and started it. “I’ll
see you at home.”
“Okay, I’m right behind you.”
As they drove away, neither of them noticed the man
who had observed and overheard their entire conversation.
Maverick clenched a fist; he wanted so badly to be a part of that
circle.
“Damn you guys for keeping me unaware of my child!”
he hissed as he slid back through the dark to where he’d
parked his bike. Maverick drove back to his hotel, feeling alone
for the first time in his life and not being okay with it.
_
Tempest was up at six the next morning. Three hours of
sleep was catching up with her, though. Knowing she wouldn’t
get back to sleep anytime soon, she swung her legs out of bed
and padded into the bathroom.
A bit more awake, a fully dressed, Tempest walked
through the house and out the back door to the yard. She
unrolled a yoga mat and sat down upon it in the lotus position.
For thirty minutes, she maintained that hold while she
mediated.
That done, she stretched, put the mat away, and walked
out the gate of her house. Striding down the stone path,
Tempest was almost to the sidewalk when she saw him.
James “Maverick” Chayton Lonetree sat on his
motorcycle in her driveway. He was leaning nonchalantly
against the gleaming bike; rock-solid arms crossed his marbled
chest. His clothes were black, all of them: shirt, pants, and
boots.
Briefly, they just stared at each other, Tempest
unconsciously touching her hair that was gathered up off her
neck in a slapdash way. She recovered quickly. “What are you
doing here? How did you find out where I lived?” Her
questions were delivered in a low hiss.
“I told you we needed to talk,” he responded in a velvetsmooth
voice that made her feel as if he were running his
hands over her body.
“I have nothing to say to you. And I don’t want to hear
what you have to say.” Tempest began to back up toward her
gate.
Maverick reached out one hand toward her. “No, please,
wait. I didn’t know.” He licked his lips and glanced up at the
sky. “I went home to confront mine and your parents about it.”
Really? “And?” She crossed her arms, but stopped
moving backwards.
“And your mother—”
“She is not my mother. My mother was Bertha,”
Tempest interjected furiously.
Both hands went up in a placating gesture. “Okay. I
went to your old home and was told off by the woman of the
house.” Nothing so much as a flicker crossed her face so he
continued. “They knew. My parents knew and refused to tell
me.”
“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know. I
was the thirteen year old who had to face your parents and tell
them because you wouldn’t talk to me. In fact, you down right
avoided me.” Her eyes grew unyielding. “And while this trip
down memory lane has been tons of fun, I have things to do.”
“Tempest, wait.” Maverick pushed away from his bike
and moved toward her. He wasn’t blind to the appreciative
way her eyes roamed over his physique, but now was
definitely not the time to address that. There was something
way more important to tackle.
She exhaled loudly and bluntly asked, “What do you
want from me, James?”
A slight crinkle appeared at the corner of one side of his
mouth. “I want a chance to make amends. But more than that, I
want a chance to know my son. I missed everything: first step,
first word, first day of school, and his birth. I missed everything
seeing him grow into the man he is today.” He held up a hand
at the narrowing of her eyes. “I know you know that, Tempest,
just hear me out.”
Maverick stopped before her, towering over her. “I
didn’t have a choice. It was taken away from me. Part of that is
my fault because I did avoid you. Not because I thought you
were pregnant, but because I was embarrassed about how I had
treated you. I was ashamed for making your first time so
unpleasant. I know you didn’t get any pleasure out of it and I
was mortified.”
He grabbed her arm and both of them felt the electricity
flowing between them. “I want to get to know my son.”
Pulling away from the touch that made her
uncomfortable for more than one reason, she responded, “I
have nothing to do with that. If you want to know him better,
it’s between the two of you. Not me.” Tempest turned and
retreated behind the protection of her gate.
“I’m not giving up, Tempest. Not on you, either!” he
hollered over the fence to her.
“Don’t make me call the cops on you; please, leave.” She
walked, shaking, back to the door of her home and slipped
inside. Once secure in her sanctuary, she covered her face with
her hands and began to cry. Mindless of the young man
positioned at the front door, she headed for her room.
Maverick was torn between going after her and letting it
go. Not many can get away with calling me James. And yet he’d
been fine with her calling him that. When his phone rang, he
walked back to his bike and answered it. Just as suddenly as
he’d answered it, he hung up, for he had no desire to speak to
his parents.
Climbing on his motorcycle, Maverick reached in his
saddlebags and pulled out some paper and a pen. He wrote
down the name, address, and room number of his hotel before
striding up to the front and wedging the paper in the door.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he whispered before
spinning around and heading for his bike.
Securing his helmet, Maverick had no idea
how to
proceed. He would just have to hope something he’d told her
this morning would sink in and she would encourage
her…no…their son to come talk to him. And he would be back
at the bar again. He wasn’t about to retreat.
Seven
Maverick sat in his hotel room waiting for his pizza to
arrive. He’d gone to the base and worked out for a while before
coming back and centering his focus so he could have a
fighting chance. His parents had called him ten times and he’d
ignored them each and every occasion.
He was stretched out on his bed and the image of
Tempest’s face played before his mind. The look of pain and
abandonment that filled its dark beauty every time she looked
at him killed him. Then he considered how much pride it had
when she looked at her son. Correction, their son. Rolling over
onto his belly, he groaned, “I don’t know how to make this
right.”
A knock at his door momentarily snapped him out of his
self-pity. Grabbing money from his wallet, he opened the door
and froze. Standing before him wasn’t the pizza delivery
person. It was someone whom he’d hoped he’d get to know.
Maverick stood there staring into mirror images of his
own dark eyes. On the other side of the door was his son.
Finally face to face with him, Maverick was speechless.
“Are you just going to stare at me or invite me in?” the
young man asked.
Silent, Maverick swung the door open wider in
invitation. His son flowed past him, dressed in a nice suit; and
once he was in the middle of the room, he spun around and put
his eyes on an older version of himself.
“Please, sit down,” Maverick offered as he gestured to a
chair.
The man shook his head, sending his longer hair flying
about his face. “No, I can’t stay. I got your address from where
you shoved it in the door. I just wanted to ask you to your face
if what you told my mom today was true or not.”
“It was. I never knew about you. And if I had I would’ve
been there.” Maverick sat down in another chair and placed his
elbows on his thighs. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“What is your name?”
“My name is Dakota, Dakota Falcon Burnell. And you?
What’s yours?”
Maverick felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Blinking them
back, he smiled as he said, “James Chayton Lonetree.” I can’t
