Maia smiled weakly. “How about you drive?”
“Okay!” He paused long enough for Maia to put her hand over the towel, now dotted with red, before running ahead to open the back seat of the town car. London turned around and sat down with her on his lap. He swung his legs inside and Allister slammed the door. April climbed in the front, her phone pressed to her ear. Karen blew them a kiss and then went back to wringing her hands.
The inside of the car was hot and stuffy and smelled like lemon car freshener. “You, um.” Maia tucked her hair behind her ear and then draped her arm across London’s broad shoulders again. “You don’t have to hold me.”
London’s face turned stony. He shook his head. “You’re staying right here.”
Maia took in his hard jaw and the determined slant to his brow and decided not to argue. Now that she was sitting in a pretty darn comfortable spot, her muscles, which had been so tense, began to relax and sleep tugged at her like a persistent child. Her eyes fluttered shut, and sounds moved to the background. Her leg throbbed. She hoped there weren’t any splinters left in there.
“Maia—honey, stay with me.”
Maia smiled softly. “Wish you’d said that at prom,” she muttered.
London kissed her forehead. “I wish I had too.”
“Hmm.” Her legs and arms grew heavier.
“Maia?” London patted her face.
Maia wanted to answer, but she just didn’t have the energy.
“Hurry. I think she’s going into shock.”
Chapter Thirteen
London cursed under his breath as Maia faded from consciousness. He leaned over and laid her on the seat, gently lifting her legs, bending them at the knee to move blood back up to her head. He berated himself for not doing that in the first place. Her hand had dropped from the cloth and he barely caught it before it fell on her stomach. “We should have called an ambulance.”
April shook her head so fast her hair whipped her cheek. “No way. Maia wasn’t exactly supposed to be at The Flower Pot today. If the promotions crew at the studio found out, she could be in trouble.”
London gently brushed Maia’s soft black hair off her shoulder and brushed his fingers along her neck. He told himself that he was checking for a pulse, but really, he wanted to touch her olive skin. She had the most beautiful skin. So soft. So delicate. No wonder the board had gone right through. “What kind of trouble?”
“Breach of contract. They aren’t monsters, but they take these promotional tours seriously. She’s not supposed to put herself in danger and she should have checked in before straying from the timetable.”
London grunted. His football contract was similar. He wasn’t allowed to participate in what the owner considered dangerous activities, which included everything from skydiving to riding a motorcycle.
He’d given up all pretense of checking for a pulse and was brushing his hand up and down her bare arm. He couldn’t get enough of being near her. The fact that she’d played hooky to come see him about melted his heart. Maia never skipped class. She was so worried about being the straight arrow—the exact opposite of her mother—that she showed up on time to every class on the last day of school when the rest of the seniors milled about in the hallway signing yearbooks.
“I bet they all wish they’d gotten your autograph back then.” He picked up her hand and kissed her palm. “I wish I could have told you my secret.” He kissed each pad on her fingers. All those years—wasted. He should kick his own trash for being such a fool. Even after college, after the counseling sessions that helped him process how he’d grown up—how wrong it was—after the restraining order and his parents’ divorce, he didn’t go after the woman his heart cried out for because he was ashamed and embarrassed.
“I wish I’d been brave enough to let you love me,” he said barely loud enough for Maia to hear.
April gave Allister instructions to pull to the side door. He got close enough that he triggered the motion sensor and the doors whooshed open. April hopped out and opened his door. London scooped Maia back into his arms. Her face was peaceful as if she needed a nap and wasn’t in pain. That was not reassuring. He much preferred her awake and bossy. She only became bossy when she was stressed. As soon as she started handing out assignments, he knew she needed him to be strong.
Doctors and nurses were waiting for them in a sterile room with shiny instruments and silent monitors waiting for Maia to make them beep. He hesitated beside the bed, unable to let her go quite yet. He finally had Maia in his arms once more. This was a bizarre answer to his prayers—that’s for sure.
Finally, he set her down gently, kissing her temple and then her hair before stepping back to let the doctors and nurses do their thing. His arms felt empty and cold and useless without her to hold. That was all the sign he needed to know that he needed to do all he could to hold on to her.
Chapter Fourteen
Maia stared at the drip-drip-drip in the tube that fed the line that went into her arm. The doctors weren’t taking any chances and insisted on an intravenous antibiotic. She’d asked to be alone for a while, not even letting April in the room and especially not letting London in to see her. She wasn’t ready for him yet, didn’t quite know what to do with him.
In some ways, he was still the boy she fell in love with: lighthearted, big and strong, confident, and still hiding a secret.
She’d noticed Karen wasn’t wearing a ring. It didn’t surprise her, not really. London’s dad was strict and stern and could ice over a room with one look. He’d played college football but never made it to the pros. Maia had the impression, way back then, that Reed was living his dream through London.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Driiip.
They’d offered her painkillers, but if she was going to walk out of here, she needed a clear mind. Her leg was numb. Thirty-seven stitches and the docs promised little scarring. They’d brought in a plastic surgeon to close the wound, afraid of marring her perfect legs. She didn’t care about a scar. Everyone had scars, some more visible than others.
Her thoughts bounced around, changing shape and reorganizing like pieces in a kaleidoscope. The colors were dim and uninspiring. Maybe she was down because she’d gotten herself into a mess and missed her flight. Or, maybe it was being with London and Karen again that brought the not-so-great memories to the surface. She was too woozy and too tired to keep them away, so she opened the gate and let them in.
“The vertex is the …”
Maia watched London’s tongue slip between his teeth as he worked to come up with the definition. They had a test in the morning and he needed to pass. Several 1A schools were after him, and he had to keep his grades up if he was going to meet their admission requirements. Which is why they were studying in his dining room with his mom within hearing distance and not in the library where they could get lost in kisses behind the encyclopedias.
“… interception point of two sides of a plane figure.”
She giggled. “Close enough. It’s intersection point.”
He shrugged. “I like to call it interception, as in the point where I steal the ball right out of the receiver’s hands.” He tickled her sides, making her laughter bounce off the bright, cream-colored walls.
Karen came in the dining room. She had a smile on her face, but her shoulders were up like she was trying to protect her earlobes. “Can you two keep it down?” She made brief eye contact with London. “Your dad just pulled in.”
London’s eyes rimmed with panic. He glanced at Maia and then back to his mom. “We’re done here anyway.” He slammed his book shut and did the same to hers.
Maia’s mouth fell open. She still had four problems to go. But she could take a hint. She slid her book and papers into her backpack and zipped it with unnecessary force.
They made it to the front door right as Reed threw it open. “You ready to ditch the homework and throw a ball?” His eyes landed on Maia, and a primal fear scraped down her spine like a jagged pizza cutter. She tr
ied to shake it off as meeting-the-parent jitters.
“Dad, this is Maia Esposito—she’s helping me with geometry.”
Maia held out her hand, her head spinning with the fact that London hadn’t introduced her as his girlfriend. She threw a questioning glance over her shoulder at London. He kept his eyes fixated on his dad’s tie, refusing to look at her.
She tried not to worry about it since she didn’t have a father and had no idea how to handle one. “Hi, Mr. Wilder. You have a beautiful home.”
He sneered at her outstretched hand. “Esposito?”
This wasn’t the first time she’d been judged by her mom’s jaded past, but it was the first time she wished they didn’t share a last name. The way Reed looked her over made her skin prickle, and she dropped her hand, brushing thousands of invisible spiders off her arms. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you for your help. You can go now.” He opened the door and motioned for her to leave.
Shocked at his dismissal and confused by London’s sudden statue impersonation, she tripped out the door. Reed slammed it shut behind her. “What have I told you?” His voice made the windows shake, and Maia involuntarily stepped back. “Who you associate with says a lot about you, and even more about me!”
Maia strained in the silence to hear London’s response. His voice was like orange juice, sweet and tart all at the same time. But she couldn’t make out his words.
“You’re telling me that in a school that size, there is only one person who understands geometry?”
Maia clasped her hands over her heart as it divided. One side told her that London was in trouble—his dad was bad news and he was saying whatever he had to to keep Reed happy. The other side cramped with London passing her off as some second-rate math tutor. She rose up on her toes and promptly spun around, headed to the rust-bucket on the curb. Her mom needed the car to get to work anyway.
The stench of stale cigarette smoke and perfume greeted her as she slid into the driver’s seat. She choked on the hate she carried for her mom and vowed to lose her last name.
Drip. Driiiip.
Looking back, his dad’s tirade was the first crack in her and London’s fairy tale, the first time she questioned them. And she’d blamed herself for the entire episode, brushing it aside the next day as if it had never happened. London followed her lead, treating her with extra tenderness for a while. He seemed scared to lose her, and his vulnerability was enough of a reassurance at the time.
“Miss Maia, are you awake?” asked a nurse in pink scrubs. She had beautifully highlighted blonde hair, which she’d pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were rimmed in black liner and she had false eyelashes that made her look like a pixie.
Maia hadn’t heard her come in. She pushed herself into a sitting position. “I’m up.” She might as well get on with getting out of this place.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I need to check your vitals.” She noted the liquid left in the IV bag and typed on the keypad for a moment. “There’s a man sitting outside your door. I encouraged him to move to the waiting room, but he refuses to go.” She lifted her eyebrows. “I don’t suppose you’re ready to let him in here? He’s kind of a mess.”
Maia’s heart pounded at the thought of London sitting outside her door, making the monitors flash. His hands had wrapped all the way around her bare leg and he’d lifted her as if she weighed no more than a daffodil and was equally as fragile. The paradox of strength and tenderness London carried had her remembering the way his hands could work study knots out of her neck while his lips burned fire on her shoulder. Being in his arms was familiar and yet new. He might remind her of the boy she’d fallen for, but he had grown into a man. A powerful, sensual man. The kind who would slow dance her into a kiss and would lead her heart into dangerous waters. She and London had their chance, and it blew up in their faces.
She rubbed her hand against the back of her neck. She’d have to face him sooner or later. Better here, in the privacy of the hospital room, than in public, where cameras and wagging tongues abound. “He can come in,” she said like a petulant child.
The ugly hospital gown didn’t exactly flatter her figure, and her olive skin took on a green hue from the florescent lights. She ran her fingers under her lower lashes in an effort to clean up the mascara that was sure to have accumulated.
She blew her hair off her forehead. There was no need to fret over her appearance for London’s sake.
The nurse had no sooner stepped out of the room than London bounded in. He leaned right over the side of the bed and pulled her in for a hug. “Hey, honey.”
It was a good thing Maia was sitting down, because her knees went weak at the deep undertones surging through her veins when London called her honey. Even though she knew they’d had their shot at love—and missed horribly—her heart still beat to his rhythm. But that was normal, right? Once you loved someone, they became a part of you no matter how many years or how many miles stood between you.
He sat right on the side of her bed so they were hip to hip, as if he couldn’t stand not to touch her. Maia’s traitorous body let out a contented sigh—like it had been holding out for this moment for ten years.
“Thank you for everything you did for me today.” She folded the crumpled sheet over her lap, accordion-style.
London hooked his finger under her chin and brought her gaze up to meet his. The intensity burning in his black molasses eyes stole her breath away. Somewhere in the room, a beep tripled in frequency.
“Maia.” He spoke her name with reverence. “I was scared for you—in a way I’ve never been scared before.” His huge hand covered her shoulder, his warm fingers draping down her back.
“London?”
“I was so stupid to ever let you go.”
You shoved me away, Maia’s heart cried. She told her heart to hush so she could think.
London moved his hands so he could brush his thumbs down her cheeks. “I think of all the years I wasted, and I want to dismantle myself.”
Maia pulled back slightly at his graphic terms. “That’s not necessary.”
“I hope not.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve been praying nonstop since I laid you on that bed. Please tell me it’s not too late for us; I want to try again.”
Maia stared into his eyes, felt the sincerity of his words in his soft caresses. Her chest expanded, taking in all the promises he silently offered like a dehydrated sponge. Barely stopping herself from falling into him, she leaned back into the pillow. “I need to think,” she muttered.
Hadn’t she just been thinking about the cracks in their previous relationship? Hindsight was 20/20, and she could point out all the warning signs she’d blown right past as a teenager. Only now they were older and the signs had changed. “But you live in Texas and I live in California.”
He lifted a shoulder. “There are these big things with wings called airplanes.”
“Shut up.” She smacked his shoulder. “Your career is demanding.”
“So’s yours.”
“You’re making my point.”
“No. I’m saying we are leaps and bounds ahead of other couples because we understand the challenges of two demanding careers. We’re not going into this blindly.”
“What exactly are we getting into?”
London smiled wide. “I can think of all sorts of things I’d like to get into with you.”
She smacked his shoulder again—though not as hard this time because her hands trembled.
“Come on—halftime is over. Let’s start the second half already.” He brushed his thumb over her lips.
She laughed. “You’re so cute, London.”
“Why do I feel a big but coming on?”
“But …” She braced herself to say the words that would tear off a corner of her heart. “Life isn’t a game and we don’t get a second half. We played our season and came out zero-zero.”
His eyes roamed over her face. “You don’t believe that.”
&
nbsp; She pressed two fingers to her lips to keep the words longing to burst forth from driving a wedge between them.
His eyes dipped to her mouth. “Kiss me,” he demanded.
“What?!” His words hit the panic button inside her brain. Alarms and sirens and beeps and screams went off.
“Kiss me.”
“Why?”
“If you kiss me and feel nothing, then I’ll believe you. I’ll walk right out the door and maybe only fan-stalk you once in a while.” His palms cupped her cheeks. “But if even part of you still has the hots for me, then we go on one date.”
“Why does it have to be a kiss?” She barely breathed the words past a fierce desire to grab the front of his shirt and show him exactly how much she’d grown up in the last ten years.
“Because your words say one thing and your eyes say another, but your kisses are always honest.”
The alarms got louder. Not only was her leg numb; her whole body hit Novocain status. There was no denying that one of her go-to daydreams over the last ten years had been a final kiss goodbye with London. They could have bumped into one another at the grocery store, a concert, or he’d come backstage after a performance, or she’d wait outside the locker room after a game. There’d been dozens of scenarios. Sitting in a hospital bed waiting for antibiotics to flood her system wasn’t one of them. “Fine,” she grunted.
His face lit up and then he grew super serious—so intense she felt the weight of his gaze holding her to the bed and pressing her head into the pillow. She closed her eyes, silently screaming, I’m not ready! I’m not ready! The alarms jumped to DEFCON 3. She wasn’t ready to kiss London, and her daydreams and the past they shared and his tenderness, goodbye.
London brushed his cheek against hers and murmured her name. Her pulse pounded in her lips and her mouth went dry. He smelled of soil and a manly body spray and sawdust and him. Oh heavens! She’d forgotten that smell. How on earth could she ever forget a scent that drove her to distraction?
The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances Page 8