by C. M. Owens
Deciding not to continue holding her this closely, I release her and stroll toward the door. “I’ll be back. Keep your phone away from that menace so I don’t have any more unplanned detours.”
I never turn around, but I feel her watching me. Yeah. She’ll cave.
She likes sex too.
Chapter 23
SALEM
Cheesy as it is, I can’t help myself from buying the DVD when I see it. Then I buy a couple more, even though it doesn’t really make sense. I’m not even sure if Maverick has a DVD player, considering he has about five video streaming services.
He takes Netflix and chill to the next level.
Just because I can’t help myself in this old store, I also move to the CDs and buy a couple of those. With the extra money I made last week just from overtime, I can splurge a little.
It’s not like Sean needs anything.
Not that Maverick needs anything either.
But tonight my job is to distract him from his mother’s date, even though he’s pretending it’s no big deal. I know better.
I move on to some other things, putting them in the basket as well. It’s like a treasure trove in here.
As I get finished and checked out, I think back to him walking in the other day with that ludicrous amount of tampons, certain I’d needed them right then. It was probably the sweetest—and weirdest—thing a guy has ever done for me.
Sean is with Mom tonight, so this will be the first time I’ve had a night alone with Maverick since almost a week ago when we had sex.
I said no sex the very next day, but he took that to mean no physical stuff at all.
I mean, I never said anything about not kissing.
So I’m a little irritated with my own rule, because Maverick is being so respectful of it that he’s being too respectful of it.
I leave and drive to his house, parking beside his car. He swings open the door before I can knock, grinning at me as he leans against the doorframe.
“Dane invited us to his house next Friday after you get off work for a cookout.”
“Hello to you, too,” I say, holding the bags in my hands.
He grabs the bags, grinning as he leans down. I almost think he’s going to kiss me, but he just inhales against my neck instead. I think he loves torturing me.
“Damn, you smell good,” he says, his lips just barely brushing my cheek as he pulls back and winks at me. “And hi.”
I grin. Because I do that a lot. I’m a goofy, stupid grinner. “Next Friday after work will be fine. But Sean is going to be with me.”
“They want to meet the kid, so no worries. What’s in here?” he muses as he leads the way in.
“Not tampons,” I deadpan.
He stops and looks over his shoulder at me, giving me an incredulous look as I shrug.
“Couldn’t resist.”
He goes back to prowling through the bag. “You shouldn’t have,” he says dryly when he pulls out a One Direction CD and a Backstreet Boys CD, holding them up side by side.
I just grin. He smiles too, though he tries not to. He goes back into the bag and pulls out the first DVD. “Top Gun? I guess you know I was named after that movie, right?” he asks.
“You told me that night we talked forever, and I figured you already had a thousand, but—”
“I actually don’t have a single copy,” he tells me, smiling in earnest now. “I keep meaning to get one, but never think about it when I’m out. So thanks.”
Well, now I just stand here awkwardly, since I suck at accepting gratitude worse than I do with compliments.
He goes back to rummaging in the bags, and he pulls out some Top Gun memorabilia, smiling fondly at the little trinkets that aren’t anything special.
Then he laughs when he pulls out Princess Bride and Titanic.
Operation Distraction is working out well so far.
I just have to keep him distracted until his mother calls him at the end of the date like she promised to do to let him know she’s safe and sound.
It’s the least I can do.
“For you, I will watch those movies,” I tell him, grinning as he stands, putting the bags down.
He comes over to me, and he bends. I start to turn into the kiss, when he merely kisses me on the cheek. “Thanks. That was way better than an assortment of tampons.”
I start laughing as he grins and steps back, tugging my hand in his. “So Netflix and chill on the couch, and Princess Bride is back on the docket. Should be an epic night. But seriously, we can go out if you want to. A new restaurant just opened in town.”
I shake my head. “I’d rather stay in.”
He cups my chin, thumbing my lower lip. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say with faux innocence and doe eyes as he grins.
“Thanks for doing it,” he says, smiling that smile that warms me to my core.
“She’ll be okay, Maverick. Your mother is sassy and confident now. She’s not the same woman she was back then, and she’s letting go of the past.”
He studies my eyes like he’s searching for the sincerity, and he nods when he finds it.
“Thanks for that too.”
Releasing the side of my face, he drops to the couch, and I join him, but then he stands abruptly and grabs all the stuff I got him, carrying it toward his bedroom. When he takes a while, I get up and pad down the hall after him.
His devil cat is now at my house, hanging with Sean when he’s there. And she’s really not a devil at all. At least not to anyone but Maverick. He swears she was also terrible to Bella.
Just as I reach the bedroom, I see him gently placing the little Maverick figurine beside the DVD that he has on a stand he apparently freed up. All the things I just bought him get neatly tucked away in the open cubby, all on display.
“You don’t have to do that just because I got it, Maverick. It was just some fun gifts I bought while perusing the store.”
He finishes putting everything where he wants it and steps back. “I like it,” he says simply, shrugging.
When he takes my hand, I tug him back, and he turns to face me, eyebrows arched in curiosity.
“I said no sex, but you’ve been careful to barely touch me at all. You haven’t even kissed me since—”
In one step, he’s crowding my space, hand thrusting into my hair, and he tugs my head back as his lips come down on mine, hard and demanding. I moan into his mouth as he kisses me, his free hand sliding down my back to pull me impossibly closer.
It seems like hours pass, though I’m sure that’s not right, before I finally break the kiss and lean back, admittedly a little drunk on the way he can make me feel. He gives me a lazy grin before brushing his lips over mine again.
“We’re doing this at your speed. I already fucked it up once. I don’t want to fuck it up again. So if you’re ready to be kissed, I’ll kiss you. Whenever you’re ready for something, just tell me, and I’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, his words whispering over my lips.
Drunk again.
“Okay,” I finally manage to say, trying to blink out of my haze.
His smug grin stays fixed in place, and he tugs me to him. “Now let’s go watch a movie we both know you’re going to hate.”
As we’re walking back toward the living room, a private grin forms on my lips.
I just had a moment. It was a small one. But it was real.
And Maverick doesn’t even know he just gave me something so fucking beautiful.
As we walk back to the living room, I veer off toward the kitchen, and he follows me.
“What are you doing?” he asks me as I start opening his cabinets.
“Making pie,” I say, finding the ingredients I stashed here. He has so many damn food functions all the time that it’s necessary for me to buy supplies in bulk in preparation, since we’re apparently doing this thing. Whatever this thing is.
“Why?” he drawls.
> “Because you’re a terrible faker, and you’re still worried about your mother. So I’m making pie.”
He grins as he watches me slowly assemble my pile of items.
“Pie is brought to keep from being a rude guest. Pie is used to define your angriest of moments. And pie is now comfort food. I’m starting to see a pattern here, Salem Wright. You make life sound simple when pie is the solution to everything.”
I grin as I grab the pie crust I already made using graham crackers as the main ingredient. Yes, I pre-make the crusts when I’m bored. We’ve already established I’m lame.
“Pie is the solution to everything, Maverick Sterling,” I say, using both his names since he used mine.
I get out the Cool Whip, and I scoop out a dollop on my finger, putting it out to him. Grinning, he leans over, sucking it off the tip of my finger, making it far more scandalous and seductive than necessary before pulling back.
“See? We haven’t even made it to the pie yet. Just the topping is making you smile,” I point out, causing him to laugh softly as he watches me work.
“Hey, Salem?”
“Yeah?” I answer distractedly.
“If you want me to keep my abs, you might need to figure out a way to make broccoli the answer to all life’s problems.”
When I start laughing and look over at him, he’s already smiling. He smears a line of Cool Whip over my lips, and my laughter dies off as his lips come down on mine to clean it off, while he tugs me to him to gain closer access.
My arms go around him, grinning when he nips at my lips.
Just like that, I have another moment.
I waited so long for just one. I never thought it possible to have two in one night.
Chapter 24
MAVERICK
“Your mom won’t mind us using this place?” Sean asks me as we walk into the large ballroom.
I snort out a laugh. “No. She’s not going to care. Where’s your music?”
He stalls, looking at me like he’d rather slit my throat than tell me the music he’s supposed to be rehearsing to.
“Your showcase is in three weeks, and you’ve griped nonstop about not having enough dance time to work on your routine. You haven’t been dancing to the music at all.”
“I just need to work on the steps. The music—”
“Is a really important part,” I finish the sentence for him. Albeit, it’s not the way he wants it to be finished. “Why are you being such a pain in the ass? Just tell me the music you have to use, and I’ll download it. Then you can rehearse.”
“I’m not telling you my music just so you can help me and get ungrounded with Salem.”
My eyebrows go up.
“I’m not grounded, first of all. And secondly, why does your music have anything to do with it?” I ask incredulously.
“I’m not stupid. I know you’re grounded. You’ve been sucking up for two weeks. You brought her roses when Connor was still here. You ran after those tampons like a Bloodhound—pun intended. So you do something nice for me—because my sister loves me—and you get ungrounded earlier. I know the routine. Why do you think my room has been so clean? I want my phone back. That’s why.”
He narrows his eyes at me.
My lips try to tug in a smile, but I stop them. “You really have to stop thinking I’m using you to score favor with your sister. Using you would only be terribly fucking bad for me.”
“Then why are you trying to help?”
“For fu—fudge’s sake. I’m just trying to be nice.”
“People aren’t just nice for no reason. What do you want?” he asks, eyes still narrowed in scrutiny.
“At the moment, I wouldn’t mind seeing you trip and bust your paranoid face on the shiny floor. But I’m seriously just trying to help you out so you don’t mess up in front of everyone at the showcase. It’s a big showcase.”
He bristles, looking down.
“They had the music picked out before I was in the lineup, and they won’t change it because it works with the theme and it’s already printed on the program guides. I only got the spot because a girl broke her leg, and they held an emergency audition to see who could fill the slot.”
“Doesn’t matter how you got the spot. It’s still a big deal, and you still earned it,” I say, sounding like a badass pep-talker.
He rolls his eyes. “Of course I earned the spot. I’ve earned more than this one, but it’s the first showcase I get to be in. The problem is I’m replacing a girl.”
It takes me a second to follow his logic.
“Ahhh. The song is girl song, right?”
He just gives me a bland look. “Your powers of deduction astound me.”
Fisting my hands and reminding myself that murder—no matter how good the reason—is not okay, I ask again, “What’s the damn song?”
He mutters something.
“Didn’t catch that.”
“I said La La. Ashlee Simpson.”
Adulting is hard this day. I promise I don’t laugh. Maybe I grin too big, but I don’t laugh.
“Pie moment,” he grumbles, prompting me to laugh despite my attempts not to.
I download the song, sync to the Bluetooth speaker system, and blast the song. I even head-bang a little, which gets me a murderous glare.
“Ah, come on. I get to tease you a little.”
He rolls his eyes before moving to the center of the room, preparing himself.
After he makes one pass with the music—and looks sloppy as hell—I decide to critique him. “You’re ending late every time, and I’m pretty sure you’d do better if you took out some of the footwork toward the middle, since the beat of the music doesn’t let it flow. Or maybe change it out with some of the spins, giving you more time between beats to finish it. And bring your knees closer to your chest on your flip. You’ll get around quicker and it’ll look cleaner.”
He looks at me like I’m an alien invader.
“I took dance too, kid. Hence the reason I’m helping,” I tell him with a smirk.
By the third pass, he already has the adjustments made, smoothing the flow, and he ends on the last beat. Three more passes, and he still looks sloppy, but some improvement has been made today.
“We’ll pick back up tomorrow,” I tell him as I shut off the music.
He’s drenched in sweat and panting heavily, nodding as he grabs his bottle of water. As we walk out, locking up, he mutters, “Thanks.”
I decide not to mock him this time.
“She only uses that thing when she hosts big parties. The rest of the time, it stays empty. Feel free to use it whenever, even if I’m not around. I’ll give Salem a spare key.”
He doesn’t say anything as we walk through my mother’s house. Fortunately, she’s not home, and I stop by the fridge to grab him another bottle of water, that he eagerly accepts.
As we walk toward the door, he stops suddenly, and I turn to look, grimacing when I realize I forgot one really import thing.
“Think that picture of you could be any bigger, momma’s boy?” the little dick asks, turning a mocking grin my way.
The massive freaking picture that took me two ladders and half a day to hang is glaring at us. My chubby cheeks and all.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Hurry up. You’re dripping sweat everywhere, and Salem is waiting on us.”
“Where’d you say we’re going?” he asks as we jog out and get in my car.
I don’t answer until we’re pulling out of the driveway and headed toward the garage.
“My friends do a big cookout on occasion. They’ve been wanting to meet you since you hacked my Twitter,” I tell him.
“Cool friends,” he says, grinning at me.
I simply roll my eyes, continuing to drive toward Salem.
“Didn’t think I’d have time for a shower?” he asks.
“You’re a kid. They expect you to smell. All kids stink.”
“Sometimes I think you’re nice,” he says on
a breath. “Then I realize you’re just a dressed-up dick.”
I start laughing as I park in front of the garage, and we get out to go meet her. Salem walks out before we reach the entrance. She looks freshly showered, and her silky hair is bound in a ponytail.
Guess Rye let her use the office shower.
“I’m driving,” she tells me as she takes my keys from my hand, grinning as she passes me, a pie in her other hand. You know, because it’s apparently rude not to bring food to somewhere there’s already food.
It’s her quirks that keep me dangling like a damn fish on a hook.
“We’re all going to die,” Sean grumbles as he moves to the backseat. “Cars are the devil.”
I just hope I’m not as pale as I feel.
“I’m an excellent driver, and you’re still in one piece,” Salem quips as she gets behind the wheel.
I’m uneasy as I sit down on the passenger side of my baby, trying really hard to be okay with this.
Sean leans up between the seat and the window and whispers, “Told you that you were sucking up.”
I shove his head back, and he laughs as I buckle up. Salem really is a terrible driver, but she thinks she’s the next Vin Diesel.
She spins out, probably chunking precious pieces of paint, and I remind myself that I have tons of money. I can fix anything she breaks.
Woosa, motherfucker. Woo. Sa.
Sean’s right. I am sucking up, because no way in hell would I let her drive my baby otherwise.
She giggles when she cuts a curve too sharp and we fishtail. I’m pretty sure my ass is never going to unclench.
“This is why Tyler bought her a truck. Trucks can’t turn like this,” Sean grumbles from the backseat.
“He gave me his old truck,” Salem says dismissively. “And I’m going the speed limit.”
I turn to see Sean shaking his head, letting me know it was apparently a plot to keep her out from behind the wheel of a car. I don’t care how badly I want ungrounded; I’m never letting her drive my car again.
The abrupt squeal of brakes doesn’t register until I’m snapped around, and the seatbelt is catching me. “Fucking shit, woman!” I snap before I can stop myself.