feels just as strongly, but he won’t admit it to me. He tells me I’m his everything. I think that is secret code for I love you. I think.
Do people like Maverick Hart say I love you? Do they only think it and assume women should know? He’s good at everything. That fact is obvious when you look around his house…and his garage. And also one glance in his bedroom has my knees shaking, but that’s just me.
It’s unreal I get to call him my boyfriend. Not only that, but the fact that I actually have a relationship after the Nashhole makes me happy. I thought for a long time I’d never get over him. Maverick makes that easy too. I barely even remember Nash and his adulterous ways.
Kathy calls and texts to bitch about how she is lonely, and needs me to come and stay with her again. She misses me. Or she misses someone to drive her to the store when she’s too drunk to drive. I’m sure she doesn’t ask her girlfriends to do that for her. That’d be too embarrassing. It’s a daughter job. You shit on the people you’re closest to. Even though she assures me money isn’t an issue, because she made out during the last divorce, I still worry she’s going to end up living in my spare room any day now.
My cell phone chirps at me from the kitchen counter. It’s a text from Maverick. We got in early. Stone is giving me a ride home. Meet me at my place?
I text back, Sure. I’m disappointed. I wanted to pick him up from the airport and have that run into each other’s arms moment. I hope he feels my irritation through my text. I laugh because that’s insane. Nothing else from Maverick comes through.
I do get a text from Gretchen listing a bunch of crass, dirty sex positions, because she can and that’s Gretchen. I had an actual professional wax my landing strip this time, much to Gretchen’s dismay. My hair is freshly blown out and I had my makeup done—nothing crazy, just simple and pretty. It’s my everyday look enhanced by a professional’s hand. I chose a black, casual cotton dress. It hugs my curves and boosts my chest. I reapply some clear lip-gloss and scrutinize my appearance in a large gothic mirror that hangs on a wall in one of the corridors.
I didn’t snoop through his house, as I’m sure most people would. I want Maverick to show me everything. I want to know what he finds important about his house. What will he show me first? What does he like the most? These things will all help me crack the code. Sleuthing for details about him and his personality take creativity. I think I know something about him and he does a complete one eighty. I never know what to expect from him.
The front door opens. I don’t hear it close. I run down the hallway, my bare feet padding against the solid wood floors. Maverick drops his leather bag from his shoulder and stares at me. Okay, maybe Morganna didn’t tell him she gave me a key. He looks delectable, like always. He looks even bigger than I remember. But the last time I saw him we were in my small, pink bed. Shock crosses his face, mixing with raw emotion. His hands tremble by his sides. I feel my smile fading from my face, praying to God that this is a surprise he’s okay with.
I give him a little wave. “Surprise?” I say, my voice wavering a little.
His gaze hasn’t strayed from my face…my eyes. He’s doing that weird thing when I know for sure he’s trying to get a read off me. I cross over to him, walking slowly but purposefully. He crushes me against his body, leans down, and inhales deeply. His heart is pounding. I actually feel it on my cheek—solid, steady, obviously not the slow normal pace of a heart.
“Is this okay?” I ask hesitantly.
Dipping his head lower, he places his face in my neck. Taking another long, deep breath he says, “This is more than okay. I missed you so much, Win. I missed you,” he whispers into my ear, causing my insides to quiver.
Sweeping my hair away, he kisses my neck, and then my ear, cheek, and now he’s looking at my lips. He doesn’t kiss them. He just stares at them. I smile after a few awkward seconds of lip