“It’s true. You clean, you cook, youbake!You’re good with animals, with kids. You’re respectful, and hot as fuck. Prince Charming ain’t got nothin’ on you.”
He opened his mouth as if he’d respond, and my heart leapt.
Yes! Please, please talk.
I bit back the disappointment creeping into my heart as he offered me a bashful smile instead. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to my lips, a silent distraction in hopes of changing the subject, no doubt.
He did that a lot. Poor guy didn’t know how to take a compliment. But I knew how to take a hint.
“Chocolate cake’s always been my favorite. I don’t remember a whole lot about my mama, but I remember on my fourth birthday she made this amazin’ chocolate cake and homemade frosting.”
He moved to the countertop beside me and pulled out a cutting board, knife, and an onion.So, we’ve moved on from dessert to dinner for the moment. He glanced up at me, interest simmering in his eyes. I didn’t talk about my mama. Ever. And yet, here I was bringing her up on my own.
I sighed, a torrent of conflicting emotions welling to life within me like a tidal wave pulling back from the shore. Building. Building. Building. Emotions I hadn’t let myself feel in years—sadness, anger, confusion. Tears pricked in my eyes, but I blinked them away. No. I wouldn’t cry for her.
Not ever again.
I blew out a breath, one of my curls blowing up from the air. “I’m still convinced that she made it so good only so I’d be too distracted stuffing my face full of it that I wouldn’t notice her leavin’.”
Maverick stilled for a long moment before glancing at me, his brows knit together.
I nodded, dropping my gaze to my hands as I fidgeted with them. “Yep. She was a…a real peach, that woman.”
He turned to me fully, his face a mask of concern.Tell me?I could practically see the words in his eyes.
The stubborn part of me wanted to rebel, to drop it, anything to not talk about the woman who’d birthed me and left me, but I’d been the one to bring it up in the first place. I couldn’t just go and say that then get all defensive. No matter how much it hurt talking about her.
Maybe I needed to, though. I sure as hell wasn’t gonna talk to Daddy about her.
“Like I said, I don’t remember her much. She left on my fourth birthday. What kind of horrible fuckin’ person does that?” I huffed a bitter laugh. “My mama, that’s who. She uh…” I bit my lip. I didn’t even know what to say about her. It’d been so long since I’d seen her. “She never called or sought me out. Never even sent a letter explainin’ why she left. And Daddy never liked to talk about her. But I do know she was a…well, she was a whore.”
Maverick rocked back, his brows rising so high they disappeared beneath his cowboy hat.
“I’m serious,” I replied. “She was a hooker. Daddy swears he met her off the clock, but who the hell knows. He always told megrowin’ up that I looked like her…he was right.” I blew out a loud breath, my head falling back as I stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. “I looked her up on Facebook a while back. Took me ten seconds and she just…popped right up. That’s how easy it was to find her. She wasn’t even hidin’ from me…she just didn’t care. In all that time she could have reached out, found me just as easily…but she. Just. Didn’t. Care.”
I glanced over at Maverick. He watched me intently, sadness and understanding etched plainly on his face. He reached a hand over and gripped my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
I let out a sad laugh, shaking my head back and forth. “Why did I even bring her up again?” I looked over at the oven. “Oh yeah, the cake.” I nodded, meeting his gaze once more. “For a long time, I refused to eat chocolate cake. It made me think of her. Out of sight out of mind, right? But then on my eighteenth birthday I decided…fuck it. I wasn’t gonna let her dictate what I would and wouldn’t eat. She wasn’t even in my life anymore. I wouldn’t give her that control. So, I’ve been on the hunt ever since to find a chocolate cake better than the one she made me.”
I scraped my finger along the bowl again before licking it up. “I haven’t tasted your frosting yet, but if it’s even half as good as this batter, I think I’ve found the one that’ll knock her out of the number one spot.”
A small smile drew on Maverick lips, the harsh lines on his face and the worried expression in his gaze softening. He leaned over and kissed me, slow, steady, soft, but no less intense. His affection was usually like that, filled with a smooth surety and quiet confidence. I pulled him to me, snaking my arms up over the planes of his hard chest and around his neck as I caged him to me with my legs.
A little hum of approval rumbled in his chest. It was the only sound he’d made at this point, but dear Lord it did something to me every time he did.
I deepened the kiss, reveling in the warmth and taste of him—hints of tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the cake batter. He’d been smoking earlier. He smelled of it too, though I didn’t mind one bit. Flicking his tongue against mine, one of his hands slid up my torso before his fingers brushed against the bottom of my breast.
A rush of heat went through me, desire pooling low in my belly. My head fell back, a moan escaping me. Fuck dinner. I wanted him.
And just like that, the moment was over. He pulled away, a sadistic smirk drawing on his mouth.
“Maverick!” I growled, glaring daggers at him from my perch.
That smirk bloomed wider. He pointed to the food. Funny hownowit was so important to cook dinner, but a moment ago he’d been teasing me with his touch and kisses. “Fuck the food. Youcannotjust start something like that with no intent on finishing it.”
He shrugged, picking up the knife and pointing it toward the front door.The others.
Oh, yeah.
