“Well, uh.” A long pause filtered down the line. “What about work? Are you planning to come in? The model home project won’t get done without you. No one else could do it like you. And you love that project.”
Relief lifted some of the weight pressing down on her shoulders. If he was asking her, then maybe he didn’t see her being with him and working for him as being fundamentally linked. After all, she’d worked there initially before they’d become a couple. Maybe she’d be able to continue to work at Slater Enterprises and they’d be able to act like professionals and adults.
“I still have a job at Slater Enterprises?” she asked, figuring she might as well be direct about it.
“Of course you do, sweetheart. Yes.”
She ignored the sweetheart. “Then I’ll be in this morning, but I’ll be late since I don’t have any clothes with me.”
“Whatever you need, Alexa. Of course. I’ll see you later then?” he asked. Was that hope in his voice? Or something else?
“I’ll see you at the office.” A shiver rushed over her skin.
“I love you,” he said.
For a moment, her tongue got tangled, because she couldn’t say it—not just because of what had happened, but because she felt like she was talking to a stranger. Like she’d been loving and sleeping with a stranger. Not to mention that Maverick’s burning blue eyes were focused so intently on her. “Okay,” she finally managed. “Good-bye.” She hung up without waiting for him to say anything else. Blowing out a breath, she scrubbed her hands over her face. “How’d I do? I know I didn’t flip out on him,” she said, chancing a glance at Maverick.
“You did fantastic, Al. I know that couldn’t have been easy, but you stood up for yourself. You didn’t let him get away with anything. And you set some ground rules for yourself.” He nodded, his expression full of a pride that allowed her shoulders to relax and her lungs to inhale a deep breath. And God did it feel good to have someone in her corner. For once. She hadn’t had that in so long. “I’m worried as fuck about you going back to work, though. I’m not going to lie. The idea of you being near him makes me want to smash things.”
She sighed, as her belly did a little flip. “I know. I don’t really want to be near him, either. But I have to work, especially given this situation. I have some savings, but I’m going to need more. Because almost everything I have is his. Including my mom’s house. I don’t even know if I’d get to keep my car because he convinced me to get rid of the one I had when he bought the new one for me, so it’s in his name.” Alexa hugged herself, sadness making her chest feel hollow. “I get that working for him long-term probably isn’t realistic now. Even if we can manage a professional relationship, there’s no way things won’t be awkward. But I need to work there until I can find something else, at least. And seeing this project through to the end will give me a project for my portfolio I’ll need to land a new job.”
Mav bit out a curse under his breath and nailed her with a stare. “Fine. But I’m taking you and picking you up. At least until you get a better feel for how he’s acting towards you. But I wouldn’t trust good behavior for a fucking second.”
Alexa thought about it for a moment and nodded. “I think that’s probably a good idea. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, not sounding too happy about it.
The silence stretched out, and in that quiet, Alexa’s mind returned to what had happened between them on the couch, to Maverick waking her up with his hands and his mouth and his body. Waking her up in so many ways.
Maverick Rylan was unquestionably masculine and unapologetically rough around the edges, and she found it even sexier now than she had when they’d been a couple. Maybe she’d been too young to appreciate him all those years ago. Maybe she’d been too focused on the wrong things. Maybe she’d been too distracted by her grief and her fear to see what was standing right in front of her.
Well, clearly all of that had been the case, hadn’t it?
How could she ever ask him to forgive her?
I never wanted to let you go in the first place.
The gravel of his voice played over again in her mind.
“When do you want to go?” Maverick asked. “It’s eight-thirty.”
His question pulled her from her thoughts. “Um, let’s leave around nine? That’ll make sure Grant’s already left for work. I don’t want to have to deal with him at the house. Oh, wait. I . . . I don’t—” Alexa bit back her words and smiled.
“What?”
“I was going to say I don’t have a way into the house, but I have you.” She grinned. “Oh master of lock picking.”
“Like that idea now, do ya?” He smirked at her.
“It’s proven to come in handy,” she said.
Maverick nodded and rose, and Alexa couldn’t help but stare at his Ravens tattoo as he crossed the room. Why didn’t the sight of it rattle her like it once had? “I’ll grab some coffee and a quick shower, then we can go. Your clothes from last night should be dry if you want to change.” He left, then quickly peered back into the room. “And I like it when you call me master.” He winked and left before she could throw something at him.
Her grin faded as her thoughts got all tangled up in the past. After losing Tyler, Alexa had thought she’d learned everything she could know about being scared. She’d been scared of how she’d manage to take care of her mother by herself. She’d been scared of how her mother would handle Ty’s death, and then of how her mom had fallen apart and gotten sicker. She’d been scared that she’d never get the life she’d always dreamed of having. And she’d been scared of what would happen—and how it would feel—if she lost Maverick the same way, too.
Now she knew there was a lot about fear she hadn’t known.
She’d learned that living your life guided by fear meant that a scary amount of your life passed you by while you weren’t doing the things or being with the people you most wanted. She’d learned that there was more than one kind of loss. Death was the most catastrophic, obviously. But losing your friends and your independence and your faith in your own judgment were pretty damn scary, too. And she’d learned that sometimes playing it safe was its own kind of loss—representing wasted chances, unrecognized opportunities, and unrealized possibility.
Maybe . . . maybe things crashing and burning with Grant didn’t represent so much of a loss as an opportunity?
From the direction of Maverick’s bedroom, the hum of the shower water sounded out, and her mind couldn’t help but conjure up a series of old, secret images. The water sluicing over all Maverick’s hard edges and ink. Him taking her against the tile wall. Her on her knees on the shower floor, his cock in her hands, her mouth. A shiver raced through her.