Quietly and slowly, they made their way home—back to the Raven’s compound on the outskirts of Frederick, Maryland. Maverick knew he had to at least make an appearance at the reception, though his gut had him wanting to go somewhere else—to the home of Alexa Harmon.
The first and only woman he’d ever loved. A woman who’d chosen another man over him five years before. A woman who’d shown up at the Ravens’ clubhouse a week ago with a bruised and bloodied face, but ultimately wouldn’t tell him what had happened.
Her brief reappearance into his life had triggered every one of his protective instincts.
And as if Maverick hadn’t already been climbing out of his skin with worry over Alexa—whether she wanted him worrying about her or not—Bunny’s attack whipped up all the old guilt inside him and made him must know that Alexa was okay.
Or, if need be, ensure that she would be okay. Whatever that took.
Because he’d failed a woman he could’ve helped once, and that failure ate at him a little bit every day, like a slow dripping leak of acid deep inside his veins. Even all these years later.
Then, Maverick had been young and na?ve and weak. He hadn’t realized all the kinds of evil that lurked in the world. But that wasn’t him anymore. And he refused to ever make that same mistake again.
ALEXA HARMON TORE out of her car and ran into the house, her high heels clicking against the concrete of the three-car garage and then the travertine tiles of the hallway and kitchen. She was late getting home from work, and that meant she was going to be hard-pressed to get dinner on the table on time.
She bee-lined for the bedroom, already working at the buttons on her silk blouse. Despite being under the gun, she took the time to hang up her work clothes and put everything away in the walk-in closet that was nearly as big as her childhood bedroom had been.
Cole didn’t like mess or clutter.
Slipping into a pretty blue blouse, jeans, and her ballet flats, Alexa’s gaze cut to the alarm clock on her night stand. She had twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five minutes to make sure her lateness didn’t ruin their whole evening.
Damnit, Alexa. You should’ve kept your eyes on the time better.
It was true. She’d just been elbows deep in materials arriving for the model home in Cole’s newest development. This was the first time he was letting her take the lead on the interior design of a model, rather than hiring their usual outside contractor, and she wanted it to be perfect.
She wanted to be perfect. For Cole.
Cole really liked perfection.
Alexa got it. Cole’s perfectionist tendencies went a long way to explaining how he’d built Cole Slater Enterprises, the biggest real estate development and management company in western Maryland. Hell, Frederick was almost a company town, at least where real estate was concerned. There were more developments in the area with the words Cole or Slater in their names than she could count. Their own neighborhood was a prime example—Slater Estates.
Running back out to the kitchen, a low pleading meow caught Alexa’s attention.
“Come on, Lucy. Come with Mama,” Alexa called, heading straight for the cat’s bowl. She poured dry food into the dish, spilling a little in her haste. The hairless sphynx brushed against her leg in a show of affection. Alexa gave Lucy’s mostly blue-gray body a quick pet as she scooped up stray morsels of food with her other hand.
The clock on the microwave told her she now had twenty-two minutes.
She grabbed the package of two filet mignons from the fridge, along with a bag of fresh asparagus. Moving as fast as she could, she found the grill pan for the meat and the sauté pan for the asparagus, and got that much going. The baked potatoes she’d planned weren’t going to be possible with this little time, and trying to boil water for corn on the cob would be pushing it. Her stomach knotted as her pulse raced. She buttered thick slices of Italian bread and seasoned them with garlic, then slid them into the warming oven to brown.
As soon as she turned the filets, she was back in the fridge. When her gaze settled on the container of chickpea salad from the weekend, relief flooded through her. She’d forgotten they had that. Finally, she threw together a green salad with chunky fresh vegetables.
Keeping a close eye on the time, she set the dining room table—Cole always preferred to eat in the formal dining room. And then she was pouring the wine and plating the food with two minutes to spare.
Alexa might’ve fist-pumped if she wasn’t so anxious about almost having been late. Her stomach was in so many knots she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to eat, though it was her own damn fault.
Six-thirty came and went. Six thirty-five. Six-forty. Sitting alone at the dining room table, Alexa frowned. Finally, her phone buzzed an incoming text message from Cole.
I’ve got a dinner meeting tonight. Don’t wait up.
Alexa stared at the screen for a long moment, then found herself blinking away threatening tears.