by C. M. Owens
“Leave my name on the list. My schedule is more flexible than yours,” he says with a shrug.
I’m tempted to tell him that’s not necessary, but too desperate to have the extra security net to dismiss the offer. Instead of saying anything, I just resume staring at my brother as he pushes through the door that separates the viewing room from the dance studio.
Sean adjusts his backpack on his shoulder and pulls his hat off at the same time.
“What’d you do?” I ask with narrowed eyes as he approaches.
He swings an accusatory glare toward Maverick, who merely grins in return.
“Why’d the school call me over and over today?” I ask again.
Sean looks around the room for a minute before walking toward the doors. “I don’t want to tell you in here.”
Maverick chuckles as he follows us out, and I get a few looks of disdain as people take in my greased-up self.
“You know what would be the worst form of punishment?” Maverick asks as he sidles up next to me, his hands remaining in his pockets.
“Life without electronics?” I interject with a tight smile.
He smiles as he stares down, looking too damn sexy for his own good.
“I was thinking more along the lines of sticking him at the kiddy table at my friends’ house. They’re having a kid-friendly gathering tonight over at Kode and Tria’s place.”
“Y’all hang out a lot together?” I say before I can stop myself.
“Family,” he says simply.
Instant pang in my chest.
“I try not to let Sean go places on a school night,” I finally say.
Maverick nods even as his lips tighten. We stop in front of my truck, just sort of staring at each other, neither of us doing the awkward farewell thing.
“He has a collection of erotic novels in his room, and he has boyband music in his phone’s library,” Sean announces, arching a challenging eyebrow at Maverick.
Maverick drops his head back, exhaling heavily, and I swear I don’t smile. Okay, maybe a little.
Maverick brings his head back down, eyes flashing. “Sean told a teacher he wanted to ‘bus a nut’ on her face.’”
My eyes almost bulge out of my head as I gawk at my brother, who immediately ducks his head and kicks at a pebble.
“They wanted to suspend him for two additional days. I talked them down to just sending him home for the day,” Maverick goes on.
“Phone,” I say, holding out my hand.
I know it doesn’t seem like much, but trust me when I tell you that Sean is definitely hurting when his phone isn’t with him.
With a little whimper, Sean hands over his phone.
“Not so much fun when it happens to you, huh, kid?” Maverick asks, goading him.
I give him a stare that says, “Really?”
And Maverick has the grace to look away when his cheeks redden a little. Obviously Sean wasted no time getting under his skin.
“Four weeks. You can have the dinosaur to make phone calls and answer texts from Mom and me.”
“Not like I have any friends to call or text,” Sean mutters, doing that thing where he tries to gain my sympathy. Not happening.
I reach into my purse, and I pull out the old, banged-up flip-phone that I have to buy minutes for, and hand it to him. He almost looks horrified to take it, and only pinches it between his thumb and index finger before dropping it into his backpack.
“That’s epic,” Maverick says, grinning, and earns a scowl from my very furious brother.
“And you’re going back to Mom’s tonight, where you’ll be writing a five-hundred word—minimum—apology letter to your teacher, and another one to your principal,” I go on, watching as his eyes widen.
“But—”
“No buts, Sean. Get in the truck. We’ll talk more about it on the way to the house.”
He side-eyes Maverick one last time before getting in the truck, and Maverick turns his cheeky grin on me.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Maverick says, causing my head to tilt.
“What?”
“Your excuse for not hanging out with me tonight was because you didn’t want Sean out on a school night. So I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
He turns and starts walking away, hands still in his pockets.
“But—”
“No buts, Salem,” he calls over his shoulder. “One hour.”
Damn him.
As I climb into the truck, Sean is smirking at me. “Not so much fun when someone does it to you, is it?” he asks, sounding suspiciously like Maverick.
“Pie moment,” I bite out.
He grins, but banishes it when I narrow my eyes at him.
“For the record, I asked her to spell tuna sub backwards and said that’s what I wanted to do to her face,” he clarifies.
“Not helping yourself,” I snap as I crank the truck and start driving toward Mom’s.
“Worth a shot,” he says on a sigh.
As we drive toward the house, Sean says, “He really does read erotica. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
I try not to laugh.
“I’m not sure how I feel about you knowing what erotica even is.”
“You can thank Dad’s wife for that. She has a collection of bare-chested paperbacks with titles like Four Firemen: One Hose. She told me to read something from her bookcase and be quiet. I tried reading that one. Had nothing to do with an actual fire hose.”
“Stop talking. I think I’m going to have to call your stepmother,” I grumble, hating the fact that I’m not even the worst monitor in his life. At least I try to filter the things he sees or reads. He doesn’t even know about my erotica collection because it’s only on my phone. Where it’s safe and pretty and very well hidden.
Mom is better than his dad, considering his dad left him in the car two years ago while he went into a strip club—the reason my brother knows about strip clubs—and got so drunk he had to call his wife to come get them.
That was when Mom decided I was right about him needing a phone, and she finally let me get him one. Until then, she’d thought of him as too young for something that would ‘rot his brain out.’
I idle near the front of the massive home, letting Sean collect all his things.
“Can we get a cat?” Sean asks me randomly.
“I’m allergic to pet hair,” I remind him.
“What about a hairless cat?” he asks, not looking me in the eye.
Maverick said his cat is hairless. I guess he got to play with it today. I thought Maverick said it was evil.
“We’ll talk about it after you finish up your sincere apology letters,” I say noncommittally.
He nods before shutting my door and heading inside. I lean back, staring straight ahead for a minute, trying to calm down.
I need to get myself together better and be the best positive influence I can. On the bright side, Ian seems great. At least there’s that. And Maverick was there today, but I don’t know if I can trust either of them to be consistently reliable. It’s not really their place to be.
And now I’m going to rush my ass home and look like I haven’t been slaving away in a garage all day, because I’m fairly positive I’m going on a date.
Or maybe it’s a friend date.
“Maverick Sterling is a confusing, sexy, confounding man,” I grumble to myself.
I’m in over my head.
“Pie moment.”
Speaking of pie, if I’m going to this thing, I’m also going to have to hurry up and make a lemon pie. It’s just rude not to bring something.
Chapter 16
MAVERICK
Salem laughs, sipping her glass of wine, talking with the girls who don’t let me down by making her feel like part of the group.
“I’m starting to think you’re being domesticated,” Corbin says, lips twitching as he sits down beside me.
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I say with a shrug.
Hell, Salem doesn’t even want to risk seeing me as more than a friend.
But I like being around her. And I like seeing where she is, because that way I don’t have to worry about her finding someone else in Sterling Shore.
I don’t want to talk about how possessive that sounds.
I’m sure it’s perfectly normal to think about smashing another guy’s face in just for looking at her. Like several of the dads were doing inside that studio. I wanted to kiss her in front of all of them, and did all I could not lose my shit.
She walked in with grease smudges all over her damn white T-shirt and tight jeans, and tan boots half untied. Motherfucking wet dream for every man who’s ever breathed.
And she thought she looked filthy. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her act self-conscious.
I never pegged her for oblivious.
Rye is lucky I know he loves Brin and doesn’t seem to notice other women, otherwise I’d punch him in the face for getting to see her like that all day every day.
See? I’m sure this is perfectly normal.
I take a longer sip of my beer.
“Right,” Corbin finally says, patting my shoulder patronizingly. “Denial is a bitch to get through. Let me know when you’ve moved on to acceptance.”
I flip him off as he laughs at me, and I keep my eyes on Salem. Her light brown hair has those purple streaks in it, and it all looks as shiny as honey. It shakes with her head when she laughs again.
“I think we’re about to get out of here. The girls are monopolizing my date,” I say as I stand.
“Thought she was your stepsister,” Corbin says.
“Thought you wanted me out of denial.”
I wink at him, and he laughs, even though we both know this isn’t really a date. I do know I want another chance to test out the physical chemistry between us. It can’t be as strong as I remember it.
I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a girl as much as I kissed her that night. Usually kissing is a hit or miss thing, and it’s something I only do right before the deed. But with her, once I got a taste, I couldn’t stop.
“The cat was a joke for me,” Bella is telling Salem. “But Maverick—”
“You want to get out of here? We can hang out at my house until the little bit of alcohol wears off. It’s just a walk down the block from here,” I say to Salem as I deliberately put my ass right in front of Bella’s face, cutting her off mid-sentence and stepping in her eye-line to Salem.
“Damn you, Maverick,” Bella grumbles. “Get your tight little ass—”
“Maverick Sterling, there’d better be a damn good reason your ass is that close to my pregnant girl’s face!” Ethan calls out from across the yard, causing me to smile.
“You can just call me your girl. I think it’s obvious I’m pregnant,” Bella says petulantly. “It’s not part of my identity now.”
“Bella loves my ass in these pants,” I say, only to piss him off. “Thought I’d give her some fantasy material for when you just aren’t getting the job done on your own.”
He simply rolls his eyes, standing up to come over to us. It’s fun pissing off the possessive cavemen around here. You should see Kode when I fuck with Tria. He looks like the cartoon characters when the tops of their heads blow off and steam rolls out their ears.
Before he can reach me, I jerk Salem up from her chair, which earns me a little squeal of surprise from her, and I put her between us like a buffer.
Ethan glares at me over her head.
“Real manly,” Salem states dryly.
I just grin over her head at Ethan and wink at him.
“He’s just mad because Bella always has to tell everyone about giving me her hairless pussy,” I say on a sigh, then realize Salem might not enjoy these kinds of jokes.
Much to my delight, Salem snorts and chokes back a laugh. I knew there was a reason I can’t seem to stay away from her. She has a sense of humor.
“The cat, Salem! Not my actual pussy. My pussy was only magical for Ethan,” Bella says from behind us.
Ethan glares at me, and I actually get a little worried this has gone too far. You have to remember that Ethan has hit me over a girl before, and though I normally wouldn’t mind risking a shot, I really do have Salem between us.
“I never tried the magic pussy,” I state, just to keep his crazy ass in check. Not that I think he’d risk hurting Salem, but there’s a smidge of protectiveness slinking out, making me unable to take the nonexistent risk.
“He knows that,” Bella states blandly from behind me, leaning around to grin at Ethan. “But it’s still cute when he gets jealous.”
Ethan gives her a look of sheer frustration, and I usher Salem along, getting us out of here before I continue to open my mouth and mess this up before it can get started.
“Do I want to know what magic pussy is?” Salem asks, amused as I drop my arm around her shoulders and start steering her through the party.
“Honestly, I never want to talk about anything my friends say. I’m a little traumatized from their oversharing tendencies,” I say to her, loving the way she laughs and doesn’t act bothered by my unnecessary touching.
I’ve always been overly comfortable with touching people—mostly girls—but with Salem, I feel like I have to touch her when she’s around. Even get annoyed when she’s too far away for me to touch. Still processing what I think about that. Not sure if I want to overthink it.
“After while, crocodile,” Kode calls out to me, causing me to flip him off over my shoulder.
Salem chokes back another laugh, turning her head so that she doesn’t let me see her struggle.
She fits right in with this lot.
Bunch of jackasses.
Yeah, I know. I’m one too.
“The girls are really nice. All of your friends are, really. They invited me for breakfast in the morning, but I’ll be at work. Brin offered to let me go in late, but I don’t feel right about that.”
I nod, liking the way she feels against me. “They’re nice when they’re not vicious.”
To this, she laughs.
“What are we going to do at your house?” she asks me, a teasing smile on her lips.
“I was thinking we’d start with foreplay, have a few mutual orgasms, and work our way up to the main event, since you like to slip out after the warmup.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Or you could read some of your erotica to get me worked up. Maybe play me some Backstreet Boys to set the mood.”
I groan as her sideways grin mocks me.
“That kid is pure evil,” I grumble, prompting her to laugh again.
After a beat, she says, “You know we’re not actually going to have sex, right?”
“Netflix and chill it is,” I tell her, sighing. “But I am excellent at cuddling.”
She grins even as we turn toward my house, walking up the steps. I listen on the other side to make sure the devil cat isn’t tearing anything apart too close to the door, and then open it.
It’s eerily quiet when we walk in.
“Bananas,” I call into the darkness as I flip on the light.
Nothing seems destroyed. Other than the leather furniture I still haven’t replaced.
“Why did you name the cat Bananas?”
“Blowjob demonstration gone wrong on a banana, and Bella choked. It was funny before the cat was stuck with me.”
“Makes perfect sense,” she deadpans from behind me. “What is your life?”
I laugh under my breath, pulling her with me as we move through the house, never spotting the devil cat. Maybe it’s one of those rare, precious times that she’s out cold.
Those are my favorite times.
“Hurry. My bedroom before she wakes up,” I whisper-yell, causing Salem to look at me like I’m the lunatic.
She starts to go into the guest room, but I pull her back out.
“I thought you sa
id your room.”
“That’s not my room.”
“But that’s the room—”
She stops and I grimace. Not the first time I’ve felt like a total dick weasel in front of her.
“Gotcha. We didn’t fuck in your room,” she says with a tight smile.
“You were just another girl that night,” I stupidly say, guiding her to my bedroom, though the air between us has changed dramatically.
“I’m still just another girl, Maverick,” she says with her back to me as she kicks off her shoes and starts crawling across my bed.
My eyes move with her ass as I lean against my door, shutting it. As she turns and sits down near the head of the bed, I arch an eyebrow at her.
“Then tell me why I can’t stop chasing you.”
“I have gypsy blood in my lineage, and the spell I used to get you to fuck me the first time is still lingering. Drink some vinegar and it should flush out the residual traces of the spell.” She says all this with a straight face and so earnestly, that I almost believe she’s serious.
Until she suddenly grins and rolls her eyes at me.
“You really are gullible.”
“No,” I say, holding up a finger. “I’m just trusting. Big difference.”
Shaking her head and smiling, she leans against my wall of pillows.
“If I’d been in this bed the first night, I might not have been able to leave after the quickie. This feels so good.”
Warmup. Not a quickie.
I shut my mouth, because I’m tired of trying to explain the difference.
“You’re the first girl to ever be on that bed. Just so you know.”
She gives me a condescending, I’ve-heard-that-line-before look, and I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m serious. The guest room is used for hookups. Not even my female friends have been on my bed.”
“Until now,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously. “Because we’re friends.”
We’re not friends.
“Until now,” I agree. “My bed is sacred. It’s extra special.” I make sure she gets the meaning of that by looking at her pointedly.
“Keep spreading cheese around me, and you’ll have to bring the nachos so I can eat my way out,” she says with a daring little grin.