“What are you doing?” she asked, moving to his side.
“Letting you back into your house.” He worked a silver tool that looked like a pocketknife at the door handle.
“Are you picking my lock?” She watched in fascination as he quickly manipulated the tools and turned the knob, opening her front door.
“I’m letting you back into your house.” He flipped the little tool set closed and slipped it into his pocket.
“You carry lock picks on you?” she asked. Her night had gone from stressful to surreal.
“Yes. You’re welcome.” His right eyebrow arched, just the littlest bit. And it was so damn sexy. Her blood heated, her nipples hardened, her pulse raced. She and Maverick had always been good at fighting. And even better at making up afterward. Her body clearly remembered . . . and hungered.
She blinked as he pushed open the door. “Um. Okay. Thank you.”
He stepped away from the opening, and Alexa slipped into the spot where he’d stood, the word Good-bye on the tip of her tongue.
But he still didn’t leave. He heaved the box off the porch and turned to her, the muscles of his biceps and in his neck popping out.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, even as she backed into the house to get out of his way. As he passed her, she noticed a band of black fabric tied around one of his arms. She nearly gasped as memories again sucked her five years into the past. To Tyler’s funeral. He’d been a prospective member of the Ravens, and they’d honored him by wearing strips of some of his cut-up T-shirts around their arms. Who’d died now?
Mav lugged the box inside. “Where do you want it?” he asked, pulling her from the memories.
“Maverick—”
“This thing is really fucking heavy, Al.” He stared at her expectantly.
“Right around the corner in that room,” she said. Her office had become the holding area for all the wedding gifts as they came in. Which suddenly made her uncomfortable about having sent Maverick in there. She followed him in and watched him settle the unwieldy box next to the long credenza filled with unwrapped gifts. China and picture frames and vases and luxurious linens, to name a few. “Thank you.”
His gaze surveyed the wedding gifts, but he didn’t make a comment, and she couldn’t read his expression. At least, not until he looked at the project boards hanging over her desk, one filled with plans for the model home job and another filled with her work on a design project for her senior capstone. Then his expression became interested. “That for school or a job you’re doing?” he asked, eyes still on her work.
“Both.” What did he see when he looked at her design ideas? Maverick had always had an eye for design and an appreciation for aesthetics—it was one of the things that made him such a talented and sought-after custom bike builder.
He nodded. “Pretty cool,” he said in a quiet voice. Before she’d started her interior design program, he’d been a big supporter of her going to school and pursuing her dreams. Now she was only her current course and one internship away from finishing after all these years of working full-time and pursuing her degree and accreditation part-time.
The sincerity of his words and in his expression did funny things to her chest. “Yeah?”
His gaze cut to her. “Yeah.”
They stood looking at one another a long moment until Alexa’s heart was thundering against her breastbone with an unnamed need. She shoved the desire back. She’d made her choice for a man and a life—and it hadn’t been with Maverick. But being in his presence messed with her head . . . and her body. Clearly. Which was why she’d stayed away . . .
God. I should’ve stayed away.
“Your arm,” she said, staring at that black band and trying to distract herself from the way he made her feel. Still.
Maverick frowned, and for just a second his true feelings reached the surface of his eyes. Grief. Anguish. Rage. “A friend,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” When he didn’t say anything more, Alexa hugged herself. Despite their long estrangement, she hated seeing him in pain, but it wasn’t like she could comfort him either. Finally, something occurred to her. “Hey, how did you know I was locked out? And that I couldn’t move the box?” Voicing the question gave rise to goose bumps on her arms.
He just looked at her, that little eyebrow arch making itself known again.
“No, Maverick.” She shook her head as realization set in. “Oh my God. You can’t do that. You can’t be . . . hanging around and watching out for me.”
“Someone has to—”
“Grant. Grant watches out for me,” she said, the words falling uncomfortably from her tongue.
“Is that what he was doing when that happened?” He nodded toward her, his gaze locked on her face, and she knew he was talking about the bruise on her cheek. What wasn’t faded was fairly well covered with makeup, but they both knew it was there.
“Maverick—”
“Look, I don’t want to fight,” he said, closing the distance between them.
He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. So close that all she’d have to do was reach out her hand and he’d be hers again. The thought came entirely out of left field and nearly made her dizzy. She hadn’t thought of Maverick that way in years.
What was wrong with her? She was over him. Had been for a long time. For a lifetime.
Shaking her head, she managed, “Good. Me, neither.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a way to get him to stop watching out for her. If Grant found out, he’d know she’d gone to Maverick or suspect she was still seeing Maverick, and neither would be good for her. Or Maverick.
The universe of strings Grant could pull—or have pulled—was bigger and scarier than she liked to think about. She didn’t know many specifics because he shielded her from them, but she’d heard rumors and rumblings. Payoffs. Threats. Intimidation. Though maybe none of that was true. Maybe such things were rumors spread by competitors trying to take Grant down a notch, just like he said when she once asked about the things she’d heard.
Looking down at the space between them, Maverick planted his hands on his hips. “Damnit Alexa, you deserve better—”
She gave in to the dangerous urge to touch him and laid a hand on his chest. She wasn’t sure what else he’d planned to say, but suddenly she couldn’t bear for him to finish that sentence. With a quick shake of her head, she said, “Don’t, Maverick. Okay? If you say anymore, we’ll just end up fighting.”