Taming A Maverick (The Sterling Shore Series #11)

by C. M. Owens

  “I’d stop there. I tend to break shit when I’m upset, and I’d rather not start throwing shit in here,” I tell her, holding my hand up.

  She swallows then takes a step back, causing me to roll my eyes. I didn’t threaten her.

  “My methods have a purpose. My mother was an heiress, but she went against her family and married a man for love. Her family, in turn, cut her off, because the boy she married was a conman who’d already swindled my grandfather for so much money that it was embarrassing.”

  She clutches the necklace again, as though she’s drawing strength from it.

  “Obviously he divorced her after the first year of marriage when he realized she wasn’t getting a penny of her family’s money. So much for love. My mother went back to her parents, but was turned away. I was born five years later to a woman who had no clue who the father might even be. I grew up watching her take twenty dollars at a time from men who enjoyed her beautiful body, then dealt with the occasional man who didn’t care if I was a child.”

  I grimace as she lowers herself to the chair behind Dad’s desk, staring blankly at the surface of it.

  “Beauty got her paid. And when I was sixteen, she decided I needed to help pay for things the same way.” Her misty eyes meet mine. “My grandmother didn’t know about me until shortly after that, when I went to her out of desperation. She took me in, gave me a necklace so much like this one.”

  She pauses, glancing down at the necklace, turning it over to reveal an inscription I can’t read from here.

  “Pretty Girl,” she says with a tight smile. “Pretty Girl was all I was. Just like my mother. I just decided not to be poor while I faced a cold world. That necklace was the signal of a new era. I was never hurt again.”

  She clasps her hands together, and I snort derisively.

  “Terrible story, really. I’m not trying to be insensitive, but you’re no better than your mother,” I state flatly, causing her eyes to narrow. “You fell in love with something that couldn’t love you back—money. And you expected your daughter to do exactly the same. And because of you, she’s hurting. Just like your son. All because you’re too scared to fucking be human. You didn’t just turn into your mother; you also turned into the man who broke your mother’s heart.”

  She stares at me blankly for a second, so I impart one more bit of wisdom.

  “Little advice: If you want your kids to love you, stop teaching them that love doesn’t exist.”

  When a tear drops from her eye, I turn and open the door, sucking in a surprised breath when I see my father leaning against the doorframe, tears glistening in his own eyes after apparently having listened in.

  He walks by me, eyes meeting mine briefly, before he looks over at her. Kelly is smoothing her hair down, tears leaking more fervently now as she tries to look anywhere but at him.

  “Ian, you shouldn’t—”

  “Shut up,” he tells her, a tight smile to his lips. “You got your turn to talk. Now it’s mine. And you’re going to fucking listen to everything I have to say.”

  I shut the door behind me, jogging out of the room, and whistle toward Sean. “Put your shoes on. We’re going to do something that doesn’t involve sitting inside.

  Chapter 39

  MAVERICK

  It takes me a second to get out of bed the next morning.

  I walk through the house, checking the guest room and the den, not finding any sign of Dad ever coming back last night. Hoping against all hope, I call Sean’s phone, and he answers immediately.

  “We’re staying!” he shouts in my ear, forcing me to jerk my head back. But then a slow grin curves my lips before an immediate scowl follows.

  “Sean, so help me, if you’re just fucking with me to be an ass—”

  “I’m not! Mom told me this morning to call Salem. We’re staying! Your dad has been here all night, and they’ve been in their bedroom. I don’t even care how gross that is right now, because we’re staying!”’

  A full body sigh falls out of me. “So you called Salem?”

  He grows quiet. Too quiet.

  “Sean?”

  “I called her,” he says on a heavy exhale.

  “And? Sean, stop leaving me in suspense.”

  “She’s coming back next week. Said she’d call Rye and Brin.”

  My knees try to collapse as relief floods through me, but then an iciness slithers over me.

  “Why next week? Why wouldn’t she come back right now?”

  Silence stretches for an uncomfortable, daunting minute.

  “She said she needed some time to prepare herself to be back in Sterling Shore. Tyler said she’s not going to risk getting too close to anyone this time. He said she’s planning to keep her distance, and that I needed to call him if she looks like she needs a break.”

  “Fuck that,” I say without thinking, constantly forgetting he’s a child and not an actual adult. “Why? That makes—”

  “She doesn’t trust Mom. She thinks it’s just a matter of time before we have to go through all this again. Tyler said she can’t do it twice.”

  “I’ll come over and you can call and get me on the phone with her.”

  He snorts. “Tyler will kick my butt. Besides, he said he wasn’t telling her anything else unless it was an emergency because he was already breaking the rules by telling her that. But he thought that’d be good news. Until he thought it through.”

  I groan, running a hand through my hair.

  “I need her address. If I can’t get her on the phone, then I’ll just go there myself,” I tell him.

  “Okay, but it’s your funeral. Tyler won’t let you near her if he thinks she’s going to cry. He hates it when she cries. You know how Salem protects me? Tyler protects her.”

  “Tyler can kiss my ass; I’m going to see her.”

  I can feel him grinning.

  “Why is that funny?” I ask him.

  “No reason. I’ll send you the address. Book a flight to Atlanta.”

  “Atlanta. Got it.”

  As soon as I hang up, I go straight to doing that.

  “So, we’re going south?” Corbin asks, scaring the unholy hell out of me.

  He and Ruby are just lingering in the middle of the living room, staring at me. Not creepy at all.

  “We’re not. I am,” I say dismissively.

  “We’re totally going,” Ruby says, grinning.

  “We’re totally not,” I argue.

  Chapter 40

  MAVERICK

  “We need to stop and grab me something from somewhere that doesn’t use nut ingredients, because I’m starving,” Ruby says, leaning over my shoulder as I finish booking a rental car.

  “Not sure why we would take someone with a nut allergy on a road trip,” I say dully.

  She playfully slaps my shoulder. “Because you and Corbin on the road together without any supervision is an accident just waiting to happen. And I sort of love him and want him back in one piece.”

  You know all those times when Salem said, “Tyler lives just outside of Atlanta.”

  Apparently, in the South, a two-hour drive is ‘just outside of insert major city here.’

  Corbin promises Ruby food, as we finally get in the rental car and try not to get lost in Atlanta. Which is not very fucking easy to do.

  By the time we’re out of Atlanta and cruising down the backroads, Ruby’s stomach is talking ninety to nothing. But it’s like there’s nothing she can eat at the last three places we’ve stopped, since she can’t eat there if they even serve peanut products because of possible cross-contamination. She’s terrified of dying and all that.

  Corbin is driving, I’m sitting shotgun, and Ruby and her talking stomach are in the back.

  As we’re driving, we start seeing little signs on the road, advertising—wait for it—nuts.

  Nuts galore.

  “Chocolate-covered peanuts, two miles ahead,” Ruby says stoically.

  Three miles later, another sign.
<
br />   “Boiled Peanuts,” Ruby says, her tone more nervous this time.

  As you can imagine, she pretty much just starts reading every sign we pass with her tone growing increasingly horrified.

  “Fried peanuts.”

  Another sign.

  “Cajun peanuts.”

  Another sign.

  “Roasted Peanuts. For fuck’s sake, this is hell.”

  Corbin tries not to laugh, especially when her stomach growls again.

  “Salem better have freaking food I can cook,” Ruby finally says, and my humor dies at just the mention of her name.

  “Or pie. Please let her have one of her pies,” Ruby goes on wistfully, only adding to my thoughts.

  Corbin cursing and slamming on the brakes is the only thing that jolts me out of my reverie when we’re just ten miles out from our destination.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demands, glaring at the three cars stopped in front of us for no seemingly good reason.

  Corbin lays on the horn, and the guy in front of us gets out of his truck, rolling his sleeves up like he’s about to kill someone.

  “Sorry,” Corbin says out the window uncomfortably to the beast who flips us off, calls us something that probably isn’t too charitable, and gets back into his truck, slamming the door.

  “What the hell is going on? And why was he pissed at me and not the ass out front?”

  Slowly, my lips curve into a knowing grin when I look in the mirror to see a hearse leading a convoy, and on some level, I know it’s really morbid to smile. “Funeral procession,” I say as though it should be obvious.

  “Why are we stopping for a funeral procession on the other side of the road?” Ruby asks as the cars continue to pass us, and we continue to sit still.

  “Because it’s a show of respect in the South,” I say, my grin only growing as I see a small piece of Salem from the inside. “Can’t go until the last car with lights on passes.”

  “Almost all cars have lights on during the day,” Ruby says, sounding like a distant echo of my own conversation with Salem.

  When we get to start moving again, it doesn’t take us long to reach the private dirt drive with a cow pasture on either side and a gate right in the middle that is locked with chains.

  I’m too determined to let that stop me, so I climb over it, ignoring Ruby when she hisses my name.

  “Damn it, Mav. We can’t just go in there,” Corbin whisper-yells, as though the cows are going to overhear and charge him.

  “This is the only way to get to that cabin,” I argue, turning around to face him.

  Cursing, he hauls himself up and over the gate. “I’m not going,” Ruby says hesitantly. “I see the barrel of a shotgun in our immediate future.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” I groan, not willing to leave her here by herself.

  Corbin either, by the looks of it, though he seems torn about me going off into the woods by myself.

  “Dramatic? The fifty No Trespassing signs I can see from here are not an invitation, Mav. No thank you. I’ll stay locked up in the car or some—”

  She stops talking, because I swear—I’m not making this up—we suddenly hear the faint but distinct sound of banjos playing in the distance. Cursing, she immediately climbs over the gate and walks in her wedge heels quickly toward us, glaring at us both while we try not to grin.

  “I still see a shotgun in our future,” she grumbles as she walks right through us, driving forward.

  “No worries,” I tell her, lifting my phone. “I’ll just play some twerking music if we run up on any shotgun wielding people. They’ll either think we’re insane when Corbin shakes his money maker, or they’ll be distracted long enough for you and me to make a run for it.”

  Corbin flips me off as Ruby laughs quietly to herself. She stops abruptly and spins on her heel.

  “One of you go first. There could be snakes,” she says with a shudder as we reach the part of the dirt drive that cuts through the woods.

  “You’re thinking of Florida,” Corbin says dismissively, taking over the lead spot.

  “No. Georgia has snakes, too. Just not pythons. At least I hope there aren’t pythons.” She shrieks when a stick touches her toe through her shoe. “I sort of hate sounding like a city girl right now,” Ruby groans. Then looks at me. “Are there snakes in Georgia?”

  I shake my head. “I have no idea.”

  We seem to walk forever, all the while hearing the rustling of bushes. And slap. The chirping of birds. Slap. The mooing from the two pastures. Slap.

  “Those cows aren’t going to suddenly ram us or anything, are they?” Ruby asks, eyeing a group of them loitering at the edge of the barbed wire fence, heads precariously stuck through the fence as they eat the grass on the other side.

  Slap.

  “They can’t get through the fence,” Corbin says soothingly.

  Slap.

  “If they can’t get through the fence—” Slap. “—then why have we passed three piles of cow shit?” she asks reasonably.

  Slap.

  “I’m more worried about the snakes than the cows,” I say as I step over cow shit pile number four.

  Slap.

  “Snakes!” she hisses. “See! I told you they were in Georgia.”

  Slap.

  “Really, Mav?” Corbin growls.

  Slap.

  Smiling to myself, needing to keep my mind off the knot of dread in my stomach that has me worrying about Salem’s reaction, I keep walking.

  “I promise this is the last time I whine, because I’m getting on my own nerves, but—” Slap. “—the next time we decide to go hiking in the woods—” Slap. “—someone grab four cans of bug spray.” Slap.

  “It’s hardly hiking if you’re walking a trail—”

  My words cut off when we round the bend and there’s a very, very tall guy with a shotgun over his shoulders, his arms wrapped around it like he’s just hanging out. You know, with a dangerous, likely loaded weapon. In the middle of nowhere. On a trail in the woods.

  Not ominous at all.

  “Y’all must’ve missed the No Trespassing signs,” he says, his Southern drawl a hair richer than Salem’s.

  Ruby swallows audibly from beside me. “I hate to say I told you so,” she whisper-yells, “but I fucking told you so.”

  This guy is at least six-eight, has shoulders a little broader than mine, and his hands are fucking huge. He doesn’t need the shotgun. He could strangle two of us at a time.

  Dark eyes, a mixture of caramel and chocolate skin, and a devil-fuck-with-me smirk, he stands there like he has all the time in the world.

  I think we trespassed on the wrong property.

  “We’re actually looking for someone,” I finally say.

  He’s at least not aiming the gun at us.

  Why does he look so familiar?

  “I didn’t figure you were out taking in the sights,” he deadpans.

  Slap.

  Ruby curses a particularly pervy bug that gets inside her cleavage, and she slaps her chest for a minute. Not even that has him taking his eyes off me and Corbin.

  “Salem Wright is supposed to be up here somewhere,” I decide to say.

  His eyebrows go up a little, and an easy grin transforms his features. “Ah, you’re here for Salem. Why didn’t you just take the driveway instead of coming up through here?” he asks me.

  Ruby levels me with a glare as Corbin chokes back a laugh. I’m still trying to figure out where I’ve seen this guy before.

  “I thought this was the driveway,” I state flatly.

  “About a mile down is the driveway. Takes you right up to Salem’s cabin. This is just the road to the barn. And private property.”

  He gestures toward what looks like some sort of ATV with four seats.

  “I just came out to check on my cows, and heard a lot of yappin’ and slappin’,” he adds, eyebrow arching at us.

  Slap.

  Ruby shrieks a little as she shakes
her shirt, trying to evict the newest invader.

  “And by the way,” he drawls, “we have a lot of snakes in Georgia.”

  Ruby is probably going to kill me before I even make it to Salem. Or she’ll kill Corbin. Maybe he’ll die first and I’ll have the chance to make a run for it.

  “I’m assuming one of you is Maverick,” he says, gesturing between Corbin and me, causing my brow to furrow. “Sean told me about you.”

  “You know Sean?” I ask, confused.

  “Of course he does. We passed like twenty houses in an hour. It’s one of those towns where everyone knows everybody and everything about them,” Ruby says distractedly, stomping on another bug that is going after her. “I think they’re after my lotion or something. Vicious little ingrates!”

  The guy’s eyes are still bouncing between us, completely unconcerned with Ruby.

  “I know Sean,” he says vaguely, his smile spreading wider.

  Seriously, why is he familiar? Even that grin is familiar. And no, I don’t mean that in a creepy way.

  “I’m Maverick,” I say, proffering my hand in greeting.

  He glances down at it, still holding onto his shotgun, then grins as his massive hand swallows mine. I’m not a small guy. I’m over six feet. I’m usually considered tall and intimidating.

  This guy makes me feel like a dainty little bitch.

  “I’m Tyler Murphy,” he finally says, still grinning.

  Corbin chokes, Ruby makes a strangled sound, and my eyes try to bug out. Well, now I know why he’s familiar.

  “The Tyler Murphy?” Corbin groans. “We’re trespassing on an NBA legend’s land. How do you get us into these fucked up situations?” Corbin accuses, glaring at me.

  My eyes narrow as I think back to Salem and her very vague ways. Basketball. She mentioned her brother played basketball and she always conveniently never referred to his last name.

  “You’re Salem’s brother,” I finally say, and he grins at me again. “Tyler. The one who lives just outside of Atlanta. And plays office basketball.”

  I scowl. He chuckles.

  “Salem’s mother hooked up with my NBA playing daddy right before his career took off. Salem hates sports, so she doesn’t name drop for me or Connor if she knows someone’s a fan of that sport. Otherwise, they’ll chat her ear off about things she finds utterly and miserably boring.”