It was the unknowns that worried me the most. I know Maverick is more complicated than I ever could have dreamed. Those unknowns are what kept us apart. All I can do now is hope that I know what to do once it all finally comes to light.
I step out of the shower, drying off before throwing on panties and an old faded T-shirt. I brushed my hair out before braiding it and finishing up my nighttime routine. I feel so much better after that long shower, almost as if the water cleansed my doubts and revitalized my confidence.
But my stomach is still in knots over the heaviness of this past week catching up with me—the fog that had settled over me the past few days has lessened my appetite so much that now I don’t even feel the hunger pains I know I should have. I can’t even remember the last meal I had. I might feel better about what’s to come, but that doesn’t mean my belly isn’t a ball of nerves.
Walking out of my bedroom, I grab my Kindle off my dresser and head to my favorite chair in my library. Sleep isn’t going to come easy tonight, so I might as well keep my mind occupied with a good book. Escape to the fantasy that always helped me forget about the things around me. I hadn’t made two feet out of my bedroom before the sound of my doorbell is echoing through the house.
Earl barrels past my feet, weaving between my legs in his hurry to get to the front door. I swear, it’s moments like this that have me convinced he has some sort of species confusion and thinks he’s canine. I drop my Kindle to reach out and steady my swaying body against the wall. Instead of picking it back up, I leave it in place when the bell chimes again.
Earl turns his head, his beautiful eyes looking at me with impatience, and his long bushy tail swishing behind him as if to tell me to hurry so he can meet whatever new friend is waiting for him. Yes, because it’s so hard to believe that whoever it is, is there for me.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going as fast as I can, baby,” I tell him, stepping around him and placing my hand on the knob, waiting for him to move so I can open the door. I end up having to push him to the side with my foot, his furry body making the slide easy against the hardwood, and I smile when he gives me a hiss of irritation for taking his spot away.
That smile dies when I look up and see the shadowed person standing on my front porch.
“Evenin’, darlin’,” he drawls, his accent thick and his voice a low rumble.
The earlier determination I had over moving forward fizzles out as the fear over the unknown bubbles back up. I stand there, struck immobile as he leans against the open screen door, one long arm braced against the frame. It takes me a second, but I finally click my brain back on.
“He—hey, Maverick.”
“Mind if I come in?”
I jolt, feeling my cheeks heat with my lack of manners. “Uh, yeah.”
I step back, losing my footing when I topple over Earl. My arms windmill as my eyes widen. I hear him hiss, but before my ass hits the ground, Maverick moves with a swift grace someone his size shouldn’t be able to master.
“Whoa, there,” he rumbles, holding my body up with his hands clamped firmly against my biceps.
My hands fist the fabric of his button-down shirt, the dark blue material at eye level stretched tight against his muscular build. I force myself not to think about how easy it would be to curl my hands into the slots between the buttons and pull it apart.
My body hums, being this close to him making it come alive.
And my stupid broken hooha suddenly rights itself and screams with ecstasy.
“Nice shirt,” he whispers huskily.
I look up from the top button I had been studying, loving the hint of golden skin that is peaking out the top, and meet his stormy green gaze. Without his ever-present hat, I’m graced with a clear view of his face.
His very expressive face.
“Did Quinn get that for you?”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
“The shirt, darlin’. Did she get that for you?”
I look down and groan. I take a second, remembering when I got it, and then answer him. “No, Maverick. I bought it for myself.”
He’s silent and I look up. His eyes still reading the print on my shirt. It doesn’t take much to realize just how well worn and loved this shirt is. Since the date is printed on it right next to the bold print announcing which rodeo event it was from, he’s going to be able to tell a lot by how faded it is for something that’s only a year old.
“How, Leighton?” he asks thickly.
“What is it you want to know, Maverick? That could be askin’ a lot of different things.”
“How did you get that and I didn’t see you?”
“I didn’t want you to see me. I knew that Quinn and Clay were heading to Vegas for the World Finals. You were at the top of the rankings to win again and I didn’t want to miss it, so I went with them. Bought the shirt before I left.” I swallow the lump in my throat, remembering the pride I felt for him as he rode. I was screaming his name before I realized what I was doing that night. I could have sworn, even with the roar the crowd was making, that he had heard me too, because right when he climbed off the dirt floor, he looked right toward the section I had been sitting in.
His expression darkens. “You were there?”
“It was the only one in Vegas I made it to. I flew home that night.”
“Why didn’t you come see me?”
“I saw you, Mav. You didn’t want me around, something you had made clear, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t still crave seeing you . . . even if it was only for eight seconds in a crowded arena.”
He drops his head, his chin hitting his chest, and I try to back up when his thick black hair tickles my face. The light from my living room makes his hair shine, and I feel my palms itch when I remember just how soft those strands feel when I’m running my hands through them. His fingers tighten around my arms when I make another move to back up.
“I wish you would have let me know you were there,” he whispers.
“Would it have made a difference?” I ask honestly.
He looks up, his eyes bright but full of distress. “I’m not sure.”
I make an attempt at a shrug, but his hold on my arms makes it hard. He stands taller, letting go, and I have to tip my head back to hold the connection between our gazes.
“What are you doing here, Maverick?”
“I know it’s late, but I’ve got a lot I would like to speak to you about, if you don’t mind.” He takes in a gulp of air. “I know I said I’d let you be to figure out what you want to do, but damn if I can let you be, Leighton.”
I sigh. “Do you want something to drink?”
“If you’ve got anything strong, I’ll take that—if not, sweet tea.”
I nod and turn to walk through the house to the kitchen. I can feel his eyes on me and I have instantly fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. With him here, in my home, I’m very aware of my lack of clothes. But the shirt is long and covers me completely.