And Maverick . . . he came to her wearing a tired smile and eyes full of satisfaction. “I’m glad you came, too. Come, sit.” He took her hand and guided her to the open seat next to him. A cinnamon bun already filled a big part of the plate. “I grabbed one for you because they never last long.”
Aw, that was kind of crazy sweet. And thoughtful. And proof that he’d been thinking about her. All of which stirred up more of that warm pressure growing in her chest. For him.
“That’s so sweet, Mav. Thank you,” she said.
“Yeah, Maverick, that’s soooo sweet. You’re just the sweetest motherfucker I ever knew,” Phoenix said in a singsong voice. He glared at Mav and eyeballed her cinnamon bun. Laughter rumbled around the table.
Maverick flipped his middle finger and gave Phoenix a big shit-eating grin, then he winked at her.
Smiling, she leaned a little closer to Mav. “Sorry,” she said.
His hand fell on her bare thigh under the table. “Don’t you worry about it,” he said in a low voice full of humor.
Heat shot from his palm to her clit so forcefully her breath caught. And then that heat got amped up even further when Mav’s gaze cut to her, his eyes full of blue fire, his expression smug and knowing. His fingers squeezed, his little finger slipping under the hem of her shorts.
“Yo, pass everything down for Alexa,” he called out.
Warmth spilled into her cheeks as she accepted a platter of sausage and bacon from a younger guy with brown hair whom she didn’t know. The patches on his cut indicated he was a prospective member. Like Tyler had been.
Thinking of Ty while sitting in the Ravens’ clubhouse set off a small pang of longing in Alexa’s heart, but it also did something she didn’t expect—it made her feel a little closer to him. For the first time in a long time. Why hadn’t she ever thought that could be the case? That being around the guys he’d so badly wanted to be a part of would allow her to be around a part of him, too? She was seeing all kinds of things in a new light lately, wasn’t she?
“Thanks,” she said to the prospect, taking a few slices of bacon. “I’m Alexa.”
“I remember,” he said, passing her a bowl. “Blake. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, have we met already? I’m sorry.” She scooped scrambled eggs on to her plate next.
He shook his head. “Not officially. I was here when you—” He cut himself off and gave an awkward shrug. “A few weeks ago.”
“Oh.” So he’d been here when she’d shown up with the bloodied face. Awesome. “Right.”
Maverick’s hand squeezed again, softer this time, like he meant to reassure her.
Alexa dug into her food and listened to the banter that ran around the table. She remembered this, the rowdiness and camaraderie of meals at the Ravens’ clubhouse. Her eyes scanned the room. It hadn’t changed a bit. Two big long tables, one currently empty, filled the space in front of a large stone fireplace that harkened back to the building’s past as an inn. A carving of the Ravens’ raven/dagger/skull logo was mounted over the mantel, and POW/MIA flags hung from the rough-hewn exposed beams overhead.
She saved Haven’s bun for last—a dessert for her breakfast. With as much icing as it had, it totally fit. “Oh, my God,” she said around her first bite. Rich and creamy and sweet. She took another bite and moaned. She couldn’t help it.
“Right?” Mav grinned at her, his gaze tracking her tongue as it swiped icing off her lip.
“This is amazing,” Alexa said, leaning forward to see Haven at the far end of the table. She called the other woman’s name. “Your cinnamon rolls are crazy. They’re, like, happiness in food form.”
Haven beamed as the men all joined in offering praise. “Why, thank you.”
“You could totally sell these,” Alexa said. “And those cookies you made the other day, too.”
Sitting at the head of the table, Dare gave Haven a look, one eyebrow arched. “I agree,” he said, his tone like they’d had this conversation before.
Just then, Alexa’s cell buzzed in the back pocket of her shorts. She grabbed it. “It’s my mom’s case worker,” she said, already rising. “Be right back.” Putting the phone to her ear, she moved into the big, empty lounge so she could hear better. She explained the situation to the case worker, an older woman named Lillian Hite who Alexa hadn’t had cause to call on in a while.
“I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday,” Alexa said.
“No, you were right to call me, dear. Cynthia’s going to need some help adjusting to this news,” Lillian said. “I could come around three, unless that’s too late? Otherwise, I could be there Monday morning.”
Relief flooded through Alexa. “Three today would be great. Thank you.” The sooner she got things moving on that front, the better. She only had a week, so she couldn’t afford to waste even one day.
Just as she hung up, the mess hall door swung open behind her. “Everything okay?” Maverick. Sweet, sexy Maverick.
“Yeah. I was able to get my mom’s case worker to agree to come out this afternoon. So I guess I’m breaking the news about the move today.”
Maverick rubbed her arms. “I know it sucks, Al. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
“In the end, it’ll be better to be completely free of Grant. It’s just that Mom doesn’t handle change well.” The degree to which that was an understatement unleashed butterflies through her belly. This was not going to be an easy conversation.
“Can I come? Maybe another friendly face will help. Unless you think it would stress her out more for me to be there,” he said, dropping his hands.
The offer reached into her chest and squeezed. “You’re too good to me. I’d love to have you there.”
Maverick’s whole expression went stern as his hand cupped her face. “There’s no such thing as too good for you, Alexa. When are you going to get that?”
She grasped his wrist like he was her anchor in the storm that was her life right now. And he was. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to apologize,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “I just want you to believe I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
“God, Maverick. How could I not believe that? There’s not even a question in my mind,” she said, knowing the truth of his words to the bottom of her soul, and needing him to believe she knew it, too.
His eyes smoldered, all that sternness shifting into desire. In her mind’s eye, she saw him staring down at her as he took her on his bike, trapped between the hardness of steel and chrome against her back and his body over her. “Good. That’s good.”
She nodded. “I really liked last night,” she whispered.
He made a sound like a growl under his breath. “I fucking loved last night. I can’t ride the goddamned Night Rod now without picturing you laid out for me, hair all over the handlebars, legs spread, your clothes wrecked.”