Oh, my. Now I felt foolish. Tears slipped from my eyes and embarrassment leaked its way into my body. My arms moved up but he blocked me.
“Don't even think about it.”
He kept eye contact with me, staring so deep into me I feared he could see my soul as hot tears left tracks on my cheeks. His rough hands moved over me. Slow at first. Just grazing along my flesh, sending tingles up my spine. His finger grazed my nipple ever so gently that I couldn't believe he was being so soft.
Then the other nipple. He pinched them lightly between his thumb and index finger as if he were familiarizing himself with something he’d never touched before. He wanted me. It was written all over his face and I wanted to look away under the scrutiny but I was locked into him. I couldn't force myself to look away even though I worried about the stretch marks and the things he was seeing.
He cupped my breasts into his hands and my head tilted back in pleasure. His touch was gentle. Kind. Non-judgmental or smart as we stood there in broad daylight and he teased my boobs with his magical, calloused hands.
Then he switched to his mouth. He closed his lips around one puckered nipple and then the other. Swirling his tongue with a perfectly lazy pass. He cherished me. My chest. I was taken away, flying on a cloud of endless possibilities at the way he pleased me and how much more he could.
“Maverick, I'm sorry-”
“Shh, don't be sorry. I want to show you what I can do to you. How I can make you feel. It doesn't matter how big or little they are, Gracie. All that matters is how you feel when I touch them…taste them…bite them.” I let out a moan as he did all those things.
A lightbulb seemed to go off in the far recesses of my mind as he continued his heavenly assault on me. He was nothing like I’d read in those romance novels. He was sweeter and kinder than those. He was nothing like I fantasized about.
He was better.
He managed to stop playing with my breasts and I reluctantly let go of the firm grip I had on his head. Once I was decent, he put his pole away and he led us back to his motorcycle.
“Ready for round two?”
“More than ready.”
I put the helmet on and once he was ready for me, I jumped on the back. If I ever rode this again with him, I wasn't wearing this obnoxious thing, even though I knew that was the right thing to do. He didn't wear one, it seemed unfair that I had to. I wanted to feel the sweet wind in my face, too.
The engine reverberated through my body and it was a deliciously good feeling I wanted to experience more of. Never in a million years would I have agreed with someone if they would have told me that I would love riding on a motorcycle. I would have laughed at the absurdity of even trying to get me on one in the first place.
As we rode back, I snuggled into Maverick as tightly as I could. I didn't want this to end. It would. Somehow this day was too great to not be a one-off. I squeezed his hips and stomach. His small jerk made me think he might be ticklish. My hands stroked his thick thighs as he tore down the highway. My fingertips brushed over his erection and I stilled. It was a full-on bulge in his pants because of me. I rubbed it a few more times before his hand clamped down on my wrist and settled it back against his thigh.
Boo-hoo.
It felt like he drove for hours. The sun began settling on the horizon, casting serious colors of pinks, purples and oranges across part of the sky. It was a true experience. I felt like an angel that had just gotten her wings and was granted the freedom to fly.
We took the back way into Lone Star, which I assumed was to avoid the possibility of seeing my brother. But when we turned down Maverick’s street, my brother’s truck was parked in his driveway.
Great.
My day went from fantastic to bad in a matter of moments. Dread filled my stomach as Thatcher watched us with fury as Maverick pulled into his driveway. He shut the bike off and I tore off my helmet, conveying a silent warming to Maverick that I was going to handle my brother.
“What the hell, Grace?”
“What the hell what? This isn't about being with Maverick again, is it?”
“Yeah, it is. Stay away from him. He goes through women like you go through shoes.”
“Thatch, look man, it's not like that between us,” Maverick said, sneaking up behind me.
“Yeah, what's it like then? Someone saw y’all tear out of town earlier and mentioned it at the feed store. Saw you get on his bike with him. In fact, are you living here, Grace?”
“No-”
“Who told you that?”
Maverick and I answered in unison.
“One of your neighbors mentioned it. I want to know what’s going on between you two. Now, Grace.”
“Lighten up, Thatcher. I’m twenty-seven years old. Not a child. Quit sounding like you’re my dad.”
“Dude, exactly. She’s twelve, no, will it be thirteen years younger than you in a few more days. What are you doing messing with her?”
“It's our business, man. Not yours. She can make her own choices.”
I put my hand on my hip as if to back up what he was telling my brother. He looked at Maverick, then back to me. “He’s going to hurt you, Grace. He’s not the kind of guy that you need.”
“You don't know what I need,” I cried.
“You’re my fucking sister. I know you need someone to respect you which Cap and I both know he doesn't give enough of to women!”
“Stop! You guys just stop. Listen to me, Thatcher. Please, listen to me. I don't know what’s going on between the two of us. But frankly, it’s none of your business. I have to take risks, okay? Trust me, I know about his reputation. I need you to stop butting into my personal business on this. I appreciate the thought behind it, but you have to stop. You have no right!”
Thatcher threw up his hands and stormed back to his truck. Before he hopped in he turned back, “Stay away from him, Grace. Don't get her mixed up in whatever it is your dad’s wanting you to do, Cap.”
I looked at Maverick, who looked at me. What did that mean? Maverick raised a two-fingered salute to his forehead just as Thatcher drove off.
“Come inside,” he ordered.
“Let’s go out back so I can let Echo out.”
I opened up her crate and she jumped excitedly at my legs, “Ouch, puppy. Calm down, calm down. Mama’s here. Do you have to go potty? Come on, girl. Let's go outside.”
She was so excited to see me, even jumping onto Maverick’s pant leg where he too bent down and ruffled her head.
“You never told me exactly why you named her Echo.”
“Oh, seems silly now. When I heard you having sex, I was so turned on by it,” I slid the glass door open for the dog and we followed her out, “I thought there must be a name for that. Turns out there is, it’s called ecouteurism. So, I named her Echo for short.”
“Ahh, so I did ruffle your feathers back then. You down played it like nothing could get to you.”
“Now, I have two questions.” I wiggled my index finger and my middle finger at him. He slid into the chair I normally sat in but surprised me when he grabbed my hips and guided me into his lap.
“Shoot,” he said.
“Why don't you like dogs?”
“Next question.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, next question.”
“What does my brother not want you to get me mixed up in with your dad?”
“You just go straight to the guts, don't you, Grace?”
I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he would answer at least one of my questions.
“I got a letter from him about a month ago. Wants me to find my mom. Wants her to go see him at the pen.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, “My uncle thinks he might be dying and wants to apologize.”
“Do you know where your mom is? I thought you two weren’t in contact-”
“We aren’t. But thanks to Hoop, I know where to find her.”
Echo pawed at my legs and I picked her up i
nto my lap, rubbing her head. “Are you going to go see her?”
He looked away, “I haven't seen her in over twenty years.”
My heart ached for him. I heard it in his voice too. “Maybe going to see her can give you some sort of closure.”
“I don't need closure.”
“Where is she?”
“Up in Longville. At that therapeutic riding center. Know what I'm talking about?”
“I do. She’s there for therapy?”
He shrugged.
“That's a good sign.”
“Time will tell. Addicts never change.”
I didn't answer because I didn't know. I had no real experience with addicts unless you counted my mother. Which seemed strange because no one had ever tried taking her martinis away. We’ve all just enabled her more by not addressing the issue. Thatcher and I can deal with her when she’s drunk. We knew what to expect. Which seemed crappy considering what Maverick had gone through with his mother when he was younger.
“My dog died in the car crash with Candi and Corey. I decided it’s best for me not to get my feelings involved with pets and people.” Maverick added nonchalantly as he twirled a piece of my hair between his fingertips.
“That I can understand.”
That night, Maverick and I sat outside on his back porch and watched the stars in the sky. He didn't talk much and I had a feeling that I wasn't the only one affected by today. I felt change in the air, in my bones, and I suspected—or hoped—that he did too.
Thatcher was right about him hurting me though. Maybe not intentionally, but I knew it deep down. I wanted this so badly that I was willing to pretend my heart wasn't being set up for heart break. Because of his lifestyle – his choice not to want a relationship. It was clear he wasn't cut out for commitment and I knew there was no way little ole me, could change that. But because of the day we just had, it was easy to put all of that on the back-burner.
I kept it all to myself though. He made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long time. I wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.
The next morning Maverick was already outside working in his garage when I woke up. Echo stared at me through the sliding glass door and my heart stuttered that he let her out for me.
The screen door opened and he stepped inside, “You’re up. Good. Will you come with me?”
“Where? I need to get ready.”
“To Longville.”
He didn't have to say any more. I filled two bowls with food and water and then I took those and her crate out onto the back patio, making sure the crate was beneath the shade, and the crate door propped open with a rock. She would be okay out here while we went to Longville. We made a short stop at my apartment so I could change and freshen up and we high-tailed it out of town.
Longville was about a four-hour drive from Lone Star, thus making it my longest ride on a motorcycle. My butt began to hurt. Today, I had enough sense to wear my boots and jeans. I’d thrown on a random V-neck t-shirt and when I seen the look of appreciation on Maverick’s face, I was happy I chose the shirt.
After a few stops we arrived in Longville a little after one in the afternoon. Maverick pulled alongside the road next to the large wooden sign indicating we’d made it to our destination. The Champion Horse Therapeutic Center. Est. 1996. Where the road to recovery begins.
I didn't think it was a good sign that she was still seeking treatment for her drug addiction problems. Not after twenty plus years. I didn't mention this to Maverick but I suspected he thought the same thing. Hence his reluctance to pull in.
He shut the engine off and didn't make a move. Just sat there staring at the sign. I squeezed his waist, unsure of what to say or do but wanting him to know that I was there. I had his back and I had him, no matter what happened with his mother once we got in there.
“Maybe she isn't there,” he said, hopeful.
“Do you think we should pull in to find out?”
“We’ve come this far.”
He started his motorcycle and steered it the short distance to the driveway that led to the center. Endless miles of blacktop weaved its way through large groves of oak trees. A wooden fence, the same that matched the sign, bordered the edges of the blacktop and we meandered through what seemed like endless fields upon fields of wheat. A pack of horses huddled in the distance as we made our way to the center.
Finally, a massive log structure came into view. Mostly brown in color, the lower half that surrounded the building was made up of large stones. Visitors were greeted by several stairs that ascended to a large porch where white rocking chairs sat empty. It was a warm vibe for sure and I could see how first glimpses would have to be considering what kind of place it was.
Large chimneys stuck out from the roof on each side of the building and windows upon windows made the building look more like a house than an actual place of business. Beyond the main house, I could see bright red barns and matching sheds. Smaller log cabins dotted the rear of the property but I lost sight of them as they angled behind the larger building. Again, more fences and horses could be seen towards the rear.
It was magnificent.
Maverick stopped the ignition and rolled the bike a few paces with his feet before coming to a rest. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking and instead of being my chattery self toward him, I didn't want to steal away his thunder. This was all about him. I was merely along for the ride.
“Let’s get this over with. We’re looking for a woman by the name of Lori MacArthur.”
Chapter Fourteen
Maverick
I’d done an excellent job of avoiding this entire part of my life for over twenty years. Nothing good was going to come out of this. If anything, it may send poor Lori straight out of rehab and spiraling down the old rabbit hole one more time.
I grabbed Gracie’s hand and interlaced it with mine as we strolled up the stairs to the rehab center. It was a nice place. It looked more like a Triple Crown winner’s lair than a rehab center. The cheap railing someone had put up before needed redone. The screws were beginning to strip causing the rail to detach from the stone. Not sure why they hadn't welded the railing together into the stone pillar in the first place and made it so when people tugged on the railing, they weren't putting pressure on it like what was happening to this one.
Work. When had a weekend been so bad I was actually looking forward to going back to work tomorrow? A long time. Looking at the smoking beauty next to me, I acquiesced that it hadn't been a bad weekend. Walking up the stairs was the bad.
“Can I help you?”
A man not much older than my father greeted us as we walked inside the center. His hair was a mixture of salt and pepper and he had sparkling blue eyes that reminded me of Grace. They twinkled with happiness, and he gave us both a warm smile as he waited for me to answer.
“Yes. You can.”
Gracie answered because I couldn't seem to remember what the hell I was doing there. When the man cocked an eyebrow at me, I cleared my throat.
“Excuse me. We’re looking for Lori MacArthur. Do you know where we could find her?”
He glanced at his watch, “This time of day, Lori’s always out mucking the stalls. I tell her every day she doesn't have to do that and every day, she does it anyway. Gives her a sense of self-worth she says.”
“Would it be okay to show ourselves out in that direction?” Grace asked.
“Not a problem, young lady. You head out those double doors right there and about a quarter of the way down the track, she’ll be in the large building on your right.”
“Thanks,” I managed.
Grace squeezed my hand as we followed the man’s instructions out the back doors and into some kind of horse oasis. There were people everywhere back there. Leading horses around, brushing their coats, washing them off. Some were riding them in an outdoor arena. Maybe thirty people, all in different age groups, men and women, were out and about tending to or working with or riding horses. A few people were wor
king in the garden and another couple sat on an outdoor bench watching the magic happen but almost everyone was doing hands-on work with horses. The whole scene was like elves in Santa’s workshop.
This was only what we could see.
About a block down, we came to the metal building which, according to the guy that helped us, were the stables where Lori could be found. Lori MacArthur. She’d changed her name.
“This is it. You don't owe anyone anything, Maverick. I…I just want you to know that. They should owe you. Not the other way around.”
Grace bit her lip and a light tint rose to her cheeks. Her input was wise, but I’d come this far, it was almost like I wasn't doing this for the old man, but for me. I don't know why because I'd given up on her a long time ago. But as we walked through the threshold of the stables, it felt like there was a tiny bit of hope flowing in my blood.
“Let's just make this as quick as possible.”
We wondered along the hallway of stalls, looking to see if she was in one, but so far all we saw were clean stalls and some horses who all turned their heads toward us silently asking what the fuck we were doing there. Good questions, buddy.
We came across the rough sound of shovel on cement and my heart beat sped up like a race car. The sound was consistent: scrape, silence, scrape, silence. The closer we got, the louder it became. Grace let go of my hand but continued walking next to me as we approached the stall.
“I heard y’all coming. The horses perk their ears up tight when they know something's about to happen.”
Her body was bent over the shovel as she spoke. It didn't sound like the woman I remembered. Not that I remembered a whole hell of a lot, but the things I tried to remember about her on the drive up, didn't prepare me for what I saw.
Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3) Page 14