Taming A Maverick (The Sterling Shore Series #11)

by C. M. Owens

  I turn back to the beast that is definitely rusted. I’m going to bust some knuckles on this if I don’t find some gloves.

  When I pull back to grab some gloves, I see Brin with watery eyes.

  “What?” I ask a little too defensively.

  She wipes under an eye. “That was just freaking beautiful.” When she grins, I think about hitting her upside the head with the wrench in my hand.

  “Go do something in the office far away from me and tools, please,” I tell her as she grins broader at me.

  “You’ll have your moments, Salem. Mine didn’t start coming overnight,” she says, her teasing gone. “It was a lot of tears, pain, heartache, and then perseverance that got me here with Rye. You don’t just fall into blissful happiness. You make your own version of it.”

  “Now who’s getting mushy?” I retort, trying to drain this seriousness away before it gets too intense.

  For no reason at all, I turn and look over my shoulder, seeing…Maverick. Talking to the hot chick—Leah. Who also happens to be a mechanic.

  Now I feel even more redundant and unoriginal. I’m a pair of overalls and sports bra away from being a cliché.

  Whatever he’s saying to her has her smiling, when moments ago it looked like she was fighting mad and about to be dragged out. I turn away, pretending I don’t give a damn that he’s the panty whisperer.

  “What’s he doing here?” Brin asks as I go to town, busting out some rusted bolts.

  “Probably getting something lined up for tonight if I had to guess.” Yeah, there’s a lot of bite to those words.

  “Maverick isn’t here to hit on Leah when he clearly had no idea she’d be here. Whatever he’s doing right now is simply to calm her down and get her out of Rye’s hair.”

  Pie. Moment.

  “I’m sure he’ll take one for the team. No worries.” Wow. “Sorry. Total bitch comment. I didn’t mean to take that out on you,” I immediately blurt out.

  She just grins. “You’re totally jealous right now.”

  I glare at her. “Repeat that, and I will let a car fall on you.”

  “Why would I be under a car?” she asks.

  “I have my ways, Brin Waters. I have my ways.”

  I cast one more look over my shoulder to see Maverick’s back pressed against the observation window, and Leah propped beside him and angled toward him, still grinning and speaking about who knows what.

  It’s just closing in on ten, but I decide to take an early lunch.

  “I’ll be back. Taking lunch right now. Call me when he’s gone, and I’ll come back,” I tell her, tossing down my wrench much harder than necessary.

  She rolls her eyes. “Salem, I swear to you, he’s not—”

  “He doesn’t owe me anything, Brin. We’re just friends. But if you happen to have a bridle handy, do me a favor and give it to him for me, would ya?”

  The confusion on her face is priceless, and I wink at her before striding out, hopping in my truck, and deciding to wash my hands when I get home. Where I’ll be eating lunch and waiting for Maverick to get his ass far away from me.

  It’s not until I pull up at the house and see the car in my driveway that my stomach does flips. Only one person would rent a cherry red Camaro and be here right now.

  I push my door open and practically sprint inside to see a face I haven’t seen in too long.

  “There’s my favorite girl,” the deep voice says. And I fling myself into his arms, squeezing like I can’t let go.

  Chapter 20

  MAVERICK

  Leah finally walks away, leaving her number behind in my phone, and she winks at me as she disappears down the stairs. I blow out a relieved breath, and then quickly delete her phone number.

  That crazy chick is not going to be kept in my phone by the damn cloud.

  Because I’m finding a way to delete it from the cloud too before I get a new phone and find that bastard there again.

  That cloud is diabolical.

  “She finally gone?” Rye asks as he walks out.

  “Fucking finally. What the hell did you do to get her so worked up?”

  “Hired Salem,” he says with a grin. “Leah thinks I’m going after my new mechanic, because she still refuses to believe that I love Brin. Crazy bitch.”

  His expression sobers, and he leans against the glass.

  “Now I have to go find Brin and make sure this isn’t bugging her. If it is, I’m going to get a restraining order or something and have Leah’s ass arrested if she comes back. Hate to resort to those measures, but Brin comes first.”

  This is the reason I’m in trouble with Salem right now. Rye says fucking sweet shit like that and then makes me look like twice the asshole when I open my mouth.

  “Fuck you,” I grumble.

  “What’d I do?” he asks innocently.

  “You hired Salem.” I blow out a breath as he arches an eyebrow, and I turn back toward the window to see…Salem is not down there. Where’d she go?

  “If you’re looking for Salem, she took an early lunch,” Brin says, piping up as she makes her way up the stairs, her eyes already scanning me.

  “When will she be back?” I ask, glancing at the time. Definitely an early lunch.

  “As soon as you’re not here,” she says, her look a touch scathing.

  “Damn it. What’d you do? I knew this was going to happen,” Rye says, eyeing me.

  “I’m fixing it,” I say assuredly, holding my hands up in surrender as I back toward the stairs. “I promise. I just apparently won’t fix it here.”

  With that, I turn and jog down the stairs, hating Leah for a whole new reason. I had Salem within reach until I heard Leah threatening Rye within an inch of his life. I showed her attention for twenty minutes or less, poured on some charm, made her feel pretty again, and all was right with her world once more.

  She’s not quite as complex as Salem. Usually, I prefer simple.

  There are tons of different types of women. Just like there are tons of different types of men.

  I stop for a minute, staring blankly before blinking.

  Damn it. I better not fit into the ‘simple’ category.

  Cursing, I get in my car, refusing to call anyone for advice. I made the mess. I’ll fix the mess.

  And I’ll stop making new messes along the way.

  Hurrying home, I walk through my door, planning to Google any and all recipes for fixing a mistake with a girl that I’m not really dating. Because my life has gotten complicated.

  Just as I reach my room, I realize my door is cracked.

  I always shut it since the last time that hellion wrecked my bed.

  Damn it. That cat better not have—

  I sigh in relief when I push inside and see my bed is still in pristine shape. But…there’s a distinct smell of disgusting in here.

  I turn around, searching for the source, and find the sandbox—known as the zen garden—has a pile of cat shit in it, where Bananas decided it worked just fine as a litter box.

  “That’s not zen, Bananas!” I shout. “Not zen at all!”

  I swear, sometimes I hear that cat laughing at me.

  ***

  I can’t believe I bought roses.

  This is what I’ve been reduced to.

  But she won’t answer her phone, and I found her Twitter handle, but she didn’t respond to that either.

  Obviously.

  But she should be home by now. Rye’s shop closed a couple of hours ago, and her truck is in the driveway. So is a car I don’t recognize…

  I knock on the door, looking the red Camaro over with a shrewd eye. When the door swings open, I reach out with the roses, turning my head back with a grin that I hope does more good than harm.

  But I end up staring at a half-naked guy in a towel instead of Salem.

  A guy about my height. Light hair. A guy who works out.

  A guy in a towel.

  Did I mention the motherfucker is in a towel? Just checking. Be
cause it’s a really important fact.

  He takes the roses, a grin on his face.

  “You shouldn’t have,” he drawls, exaggerating a Southern accent.

  I step back, look around, finding myself suffering a case of déjà vu as I make sure I’m at the right house.

  “Is Salem home?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  His eyebrow arches as he leans against the doorframe, roses still in hand as he crosses his arms over his chest. I hope he didn’t just make his pecs dance on purpose. Because that’s just weird.

  “Maybe. Depends on who you are,” he tells me.

  While wearing that towel around his hips.

  “Who I am,” I say, laughing under my breath. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

  “You talking to me or yourself? Because I can give you a minute if you need to do your thing or whatever,” the smartass says.

  I turn my attention back to him.

  “I’d like to talk to Salem now.” With a modicum of calm that I barely possess, I add, “Please.”

  He shrugs, that cocky smirk still fixed on his face. “And I’d like to eat an entire chocolate cake all by myself. But training season is a bitch.”

  He’s definitely making his pecs dance on purpose. Who does that?

  “Losing my patience, Titty Dancer. Where’s Salem?”

  “I left her in the tub. Want me to get her for you?” he asks as though it’s no big deal that he’s about to die.

  This is when I take two quick steps toward him, my fist already coming up, as I barge into the house.

  “Fucking kidding!” he bursts out, laughter following as he stumbles back, and shields his face with the roses.

  When I pause and glare at him, he continues laughing. Since I’m inside by this point, it’s easy to spot Sean sitting at the table, a grilled cheese on his plate, and a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Told you he was gullible,” the little ass says.

  Loud music is thudding from somewhere in the house, but I barely pay it any attention when Titty Dancer—who has no water on his body, by the way—rips his towel off to reveal a pair of athletic shorts.

  He’s still laughing when he tosses the towel over his shoulder.

  “I’m Connor. Your other new stepbrother,” he says, sticking his hand out as he grins at me. “Sean put me up to it.”

  I cut my eyes over to the other pain in my ass, and he winks at me, as I shake Connor’s hand.

  “That’s for the tuna sub,” the little shit says.

  Despite my murderous moment—which makes zero sense—I completely relax as Connor shuts the door behind me, still laughing lightly.

  “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but this family has a way of pissing me off in ways that can’t be healthy,” I say with a dark grin.

  “Touché,” Connor says with a shrug. “Salem’s in her room. Just follow the loud music.”

  “He knows where her room is,” Sean says with a small laugh, as Connor drops my roses into a vase near the door

  “Right. And gross,” Connor says, going to join Sean at the table and stealing half of his grilled cheese.

  His Southern drawl is nowhere nearly as thick as Sean’s and Salem’s; no clue why I even notice that.

  “He called you Titty Dancer,” Sean says, laughing with his brother, as I turn to go into Salem’s room.

  Before I can reach it, she walks out, her head down as she carries what looks like a game of Monopoly.

  “Found it. Finally,” she says, swinging her gaze up.

  Our eyes collide, and she stumbles a step, nearly losing the game from her hands. A small smile cracks my lips, since I love it when she blushes.

  “What’re you doing here?” she asks, darting a glance past me to her two brothers, who are no doubt watching us openly, not even bothering to hide their prying.

  My eyes drop to the game in her hands, and I rock back on my heels.

  “Apparently I’m playing a game of Monopoly and getting to know yet another wonderful new stepbrother,” I say with a challenging grin.

  A few snorts follow that comment from the Peanut Gallery back there. Salem narrows her eyes on me as she walks over and thrusts the game at Connor. He takes it, grinning as he watches us with undisguised interest—knew it.

  I just swivel my head to track Salem as she stalks around for a second before returning to me, taking me by the elbow and dragging me toward her room. Dragging is a bit of an exaggeration, since I go all too willingly.

  “Somebody’s in trouble,” Sean says in a singsong voice.

  As soon as she has me in her room with the really loud music, she shuts the door and cuts the volume down just a little.

  I start talking before she can start berating me. “I get it. I somehow fucked up and insulted you yesterday, and I am really fucking sorry. I’m also never letting you or anyone else from your family borrow my phone again.”

  Her lips twitch, but quickly her scowl returns.

  “You didn’t fuck up, Maverick. It just wasn’t a time for those words. They weren’t as real as I thought that particular moment was.”

  This is so far above my experience level that I feel like a total rookie.

  “I still don’t know what I said wrong, because you’re the one who has been saying you couldn’t have a relationship with me because of your mother leveraging Sean over you,” I decide to point out, and then realize that was not smart when her look turns a little condescending.

  “You didn’t say anything wrong. You just said it at the wrong time. I wasn’t asking for a declaration of love or a relationship,” she states dryly.

  “Then what the hell did I do wrong? I thought things were good between us when you left,” I groan.

  “I just wanted that moment, Maverick. Just that moment,” she says as though she’s exasperated.

  I’m so confused. Women really are complicated. I never understood how much so until I decided to let all the feelings and shit get involved. I’m terrible at this.

  “That moment?” I ask, though I’ll probably regret it.

  “It was a really important moment,” she goes on, the anger leaving her as her shoulders slump. “And you cheapened it by saying our friendship was going to be fun now, and I was hot and you’d been thinking of banging me since you saw me all sexed up in my grease-stained clothes—”

  “Pretty sure those weren’t my exact words,” I decide to point out, since I sort of don’t like the way that sounds either, and I know that’s sure as hell not what I meant.

  It does sound like it cheapened the moment, and that I spent all that time with her just to fuck her again.

  She exhales harshly. “It had the desired effect. And it ruined the moment. It was a moment I’ve waited on for a really long time.”

  And I was thinking it was a damn good moment.

  The difference between men and women: Exhibit A.

  “And I was wrong,” she mumbles, the words almost drowned out by the music, but I catch them.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask, amused because her cheeks are flushed.

  “I said I was wrong. I told you I don’t get jealous, and apparently I do. I really hate Leah, and I’ve never even spoken to her. That’s not me. That’s not who I am. It’s also not what you want.”

  Her eyes meet mine and her gaze levels me with accusation, like it’s my fault she got jealous over misinterpreting a situation.

  “I was just calming Leah down; not planning a date with her. But it’s good to know you got jealous,” I say with a grin, unsure why I find that fascinating, since that’s usually something that would send me walking away real damn quick. “Because I almost punched your brother in the face when he answered the door in a towel and maybe insinuated you were waiting for him in the tub.”

  “Is this another jab at Southerners and blood-relatives doing gross things? Because that’s all bullsh—”

  “No,” I interrupt, chuckling under my breath. “I didn’t know he was your brother un
til I almost punched him and he started laughing. Apparently you’re not the only one having an unexpected case of the green-eyed monster.”

  She fights a grin, losing the battle and settling for an eye-roll and a groan as a consolation prize.

  She shakes her head, still keeping a safe distance between us. Considering I’m in trouble, I try to keep my eyes up and not notice the fact she’s wearing some skimpy little pajama shorts and no bra under that camisole top.

  It seems as though torture is on the agenda for now.

  “I felt really stupid last night,” she goes on, her eyes meeting mine, barely giving me a glimpse of the vulnerability there. It’s so minute that I almost miss it.

  I doubt she allows herself to be vulnerable too often.

  I get that. Probably more so than she realizes.

  One more thing I like about her.

  “I didn’t mean for that to happen. Obviously. In case you haven’t noticed, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing beyond casual. So I thought I’d stick to what I knew best, and go from there.”

  Her smile forms again, even though she banishes it quickly.

  “I felt duped. It’s been a long time since I felt gullible, and —”

  “Really? Because I seem to be having a reoccurring episode of it lately. Happened about the time your family crashed into my life,” I say, this time causing her to laugh.

  Finally getting somewhere.

  “Can we start from here? Because obviously there’s something that keeps drawing us together, despite the fact we’re both putting up a damn good fight,” I tell her, only fueling her softening state as she takes a step toward me.

  “One condition,” she says, peering up at me when I finally get her in my arms. I didn’t even realize how tightly strung I was until she touched me and my entire body relaxed. I really am losing my mind.

  Wish someone had told me what really happens when you actually like a damn girl.

  “What condition?” I ask her.

  “No sex. Not until we know what we want from each other,” she says.

  Saw that coming. I really wish I had just kept my mouth shut last night.

  “No sex I’ll agree to if you’ll do one thing for me.”