It was just wedding jitters. Totally normal.
Sighing, she surveyed the beautiful dinner she’d managed to throw together. Given how scarce food had been when she was younger, Alexa absolutely hated to waste anything. Problem was, her appetite had been all over the place lately. Either she couldn’t stomach the thought of eating or she was binge-eating a bag of potato chips while Grant was at work.
Knock, knock.
The quick raps on the front door pulled Alexa from her thoughts. She crossed the dining room to the wide oval foyer framed by a grand curving staircase. A glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting colorful prisms here and there from where it caught the late-day sun through the large picture window above the door. Out on the front porch, Alexa found a stack of packages. She gave a wave to the UPS driver as he pulled out of the end of their driveway.
With just over two weeks until the wedding, presents from the registry had been pouring in every day. Grant had so many friends, colleagues, and contacts that she’d never met, Alexa didn’t know who most of the gifts were from.
She carried in two smaller ones, then two medium ones, and then found herself struggling to move the large square box on the bottom. It was too deep to get her arms around and not easily pushed. What the heck could it be? She crouched behind it to try to gain leverage, and was just about to give up when a strong breeze blew her hair across her face, and she heard a soft click.
Her gaze cut to the front door.
“Oh, shit,” she said. Knowing what she was going to find, she tried the knob anyway. Locked.
She was locked out, and Grant was away until who knew what time. She couldn’t easily go anywhere because her purse, car keys, and phone were all inside. And she didn’t know her neighbors yet because she’d just moved in.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
So much for getting work done tonight.
She sat heavily on the stupid box and dropped her head into her hands. And burst into tears.
Not because of being locked out. But because being . . . trapped with no easy way out of the situation? Suddenly, that felt like a crazy accurate metaphor for her life.
If she was being honest with herself.
Which she really, really didn’t want to be.
“Stop it, Al,” she said in a rasping voice. “You’re not trapped. Stop thinking that.” Except, just then, she leaned her left cheek too heavily against her hand. She sucked in a breath at the smarting of the healing bruise there.
The one from the fight she and Grant had last week. The fight that had started with Alexa leaving a big mess in the foyer from where she’d been unboxing another delivery of packages and had escalated into a huge argument, culminating in Grant saying Alexa was just like her mother—something Grant knew cut her deep on so many levels. The fight had ended when Alexa told him he was being mean and he’d kicked a box at her. When she’d tried to duck out of the way, she tripped over another box on the floor and fell, hitting her head against the leg of a console table in the foyer, giving her some nasty bruises.
Alexa had been totally and absolutely stunned, especially when Grant hadn’t helped her. Instead, a bitter, humorless laugh had spilled out of him and he’d said, “Way to prove my point, Alexa. I don’t know why I put up with your shit. If you can’t show me and my house a little respect, you can leave,” he’d said, and then he’d stormed out.
His house? Granted, she’d only moved in a few weeks before, but she’d moved in for keeps.
Shocked, she’d lain there for long minutes, completely confused and overwhelmed by the pain and his cruel words. So she’d done what he said. She’d fled. To her past. To Maverick Rylan, her dead brother’s best friend, and the man who’d once been her closest friend and lover. It had been pure instinct to seek him out at the clubhouse of the Raven Riders Motorcycle Club. Despite everything that’d happened between them, no part of her had doubted that he’d help.
And he had. Or, at least, he’d tried.
But Maverick represented a past she’d left behind for a whole lot of very good, logical, and well-thought-out reasons. So she hadn’t stayed. And she hadn’t answered his questions.
By the time she’d finally returned home, all she could see were the million mistakes she’d made—making that mess, overreacting, going to Maverick and opening that door to the past that she’d kept closed tight for so long. For years. She’d been prepared to plead for Grant’s forgiveness, sure he was going to be done with her once and for all. But he’d surprised her. Because Grant had apologized so profusely he’d gotten down on his knees, his head buried in her lap.
Never before in the nearly five years they’d been together had Grant ever hurt her. At least, not physically. He could be short with her and more controlling when he was stressed, and occasionally his criticism bordered on the mean side. But the truth was Alexa could be messy, which was why she’d tripped, and she could be disorganized and she could be forgetful, all things that drove him crazy. At the same time, Grant could also be generous and sweet and he’d done so much for her and her mother, things Alexa wouldn’t have been able to do on her own. Their lives were better because of Grant Slater.
The night of their fight, things had just gotten out of hand, for both of them. And it was behind them now, so there was no point in dwelling—
“Alexa?” came a deep voice.
Prickles ran up her spine as she pulled herself from the bad memories and lifted her head—and found herself staring at her past, into the dark blue eyes of Maverick Rylan.
Alexa jumped up off the box, her heart suddenly in her throat. She swiped at the wetness on her face half sure she was imagining this man. This man she’d done her best to avoid—for years—until last week.
With his longish sandy-blond hair and his square jaw and his ruthlessly masculine features and his Raven Riders cutoff jacket hanging on those broad shoulders, Maverick was the sexiest man she’d ever known. Had been when they were together five years before, still was even now. No, he was hotter now. More muscular. More rugged somehow. More self-possessed. Utterly desirable.
“You okay?” he asked, stunningly dark blue eyes looking deep into hers.
Snap out of it, Al! Right. Because clearly she wasn’t hallucinating. And that . . . that was a problem.
Releasing a shaky breath, Alexa met his gaze head-on. She had to know. “Maverick, what in the world are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 2
Alexa glanced up and down the quiet street with its manicured lawns and huge colonials and didn’t see any cars that didn’t belong—or any motorcycles. “Where did you even come from?”