Lost Rider (Coming Home #1)

“You want some pie, Q?” I ask her quietly, not wanting to draw Maverick’s attention.

She pulls back and gives me a smile, one that actually doesn’t look forced. Bringing my thumbs to her cheeks, I wipe her eyes and return her smile.

“Pumpkin?” she asks excitedly, the bubbly and happy tone back in her voice.

“Would I make you anything else?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Love you, Leighton.”

“Love you back, Quinn.”

Ignoring the silent storm brewing between the Davis brothers, with a clueless but chatty Jana stuck between the brooding duo, I take Quinn’s hand and pull her over to her table. I say her table because she’s usually parked here every chance she can get between her shifts at the auto shop. Walking over to the case holding the slices of pumpkin pie, I grab the thick one I had specially left for her and deliver it.

Right when I open my mouth to ask if she needs anything else, I hear the chime of the bell and the sound of more voices. Giving her a wink, I head back behind the counter, meeting Jana with a smile.

The next few hours pass with a roomful of townsfolk chatting, kids laughing, and more than a few trips to the back to refill the emptying cases of pies. Luckily I’m so busy I don’t have time to pay attention to what was going on with Maverick, but the glances I do steal always seem to lead my eyes directly to his. Quinn and Clay stick to their table, letting people come to them with their fake sympathies. Jana makes sure to keep their sweet teas full, and a few times Clay signals for another slice of apple pie, smiling at me gratefully when I set a fresh plate down in front of him. Maverick doesn’t make a move to join them at their table, nor does he take a drink any of the times Jana offered. He also never touches a plate of pie, not even after Jana brings the cookie dough pie out from the back, like I told her she could. Something I damn sure notice. He just stands there. A scowling man in black with his back leaning against the lavender wall, one booted foot on the floor and the other against my beautiful wall, and those damn thick arms crossed over his chest.

I also refuse to admit to myself just how good that imposing man in black looks in my space.

“I’m going to go do a round and collect some plates. Are you good?” I ask Jana before picking up the bucket we use to collect the dirty dishes that need to be washed.

“Yup, you know I could work this place in my sleep.”

“That you could. You could probably run it better than me.”

“About those other pies—” she starts.

I roll my eyes but don’t acknowledge her words.

She giggles her little pixie bell laugh behind me as I use the swinging door opposite to where I know he’s watching me. Just the same way I’ve known that his eyes haven’t left me all night. I should be able to ignore it, but after our interactions earlier, it just pisses me off that he’s here trying to throw his intimidating bullshit around in my place.

Making quick work of my lap around the room, I scoop up as many of the dirty plates and forks as I can before retracing my steps and walking through the kitchen doorway. The tub just hits the counter next to the sink when I feel him. Like a physical touch, the raw energy that only Maverick Davis has ever seemed to bring about in me, makes my skin break out in awareness. I look down, cursing the goose bumps that dance across my arms.

Ignore him, Leigh. Just go about your business and act like he isn’t there. He wants this, to get a reaction from you, so do not give it to him. Do not play his games.

Pep talk or not, I have to force myself to steady my hands as I lift the dishes one by one out of the bucket before rinsing them and placing each one on the tray that will pull them through the washing system. Each plate I pick up I remind myself to keep ignoring him. For whatever reason, he keeps seeking me out, but I’m determined I’m not going to bite.

When the last dish is placed on the cart, I’m left with no other excuse to keep ignoring him. With a deep sigh, I turn and lean against the sink, crossing my arms and moving my eyes right to his. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him see how he affects me.

Maverick smirks. “I was wondering how long you were going to pretend I wasn’t in the same room.”

Quirking one brow, I give an exasperated huff. “Oh, I wasn’t pretending. I just have nothing to say to you, Maverick.”

“Yeah, that much was made mighty clear, darlin’.”

“It’s Leigh. And can we not do this? I don’t know what you want from me right now, but just use your big boy words and let me know so that we can move on from whatever this is,” I snap heatedly while pointing between us.

“Noticed you had Clay and Quinn’s pies out tonight.”

“Well, aren’t you a smart one,” I quip.

“Noticed you had the old man’s too,” he drawls and walks a few steps away from the closed kitchen door.

“Do you want a gold star?”

“Bitchy doesn’t suit you,” he responds, ignoring my question as if I hadn’t spoken.

I stand up a little straighter as he takes another step closer, leaving just a couple of feet between us.

“Also noticed you seemed to forget one,” he continues, taking one more step until he’s close enough that I have to tip my head back slightly to look up into his eyes.

“I didn’t forget anything,” I retort, leaning off the sink edge I had been pushing my body into and rolling on to my toes so I can try to close the intimidation gap he’s trying to create by using our height difference against me. “How was I supposed to know that you would roll back into town, tonight of all nights?”

I watch his eyes heat and that storm brew once again within them as he clenches his jaw. My eyes desperately want to move to the corner of his jaw to see if the same flex would be visible that he always used to get when he would clench, but I force them to stay trained on his face.

“Bullshit, Leighton. You knew I wouldn’t stay away when Quinn wanted me here.”

Throwing my head back, I laugh, the nerves he has flowing through my body firing so rapidly I feel light-headed. “Yeah? What about when he got sick the first time and she asked you to come home? What about the second, third, or even the last time? Where were you then, Maverick? Seems to me that I hit the nail on the head. Don’t use your sister as an excuse. So what? You’re home now—are we supposed to kiss your fuckin’ buckles and throw out the red carpet? Famous rodeo star Maverick Davis is back, so time to bow down? News flash, bucko, while you weren’t here I’ve been making sure to ease some of the pain for them, and tonight is about them since we all figured you would continue the coward’s way and stay gone.”