I certainly don’t trust my own judgment right now, so I do as she says, grabbing a small purse and stuffing my keys, wallet, and sunglasses in it. We make our way to my door, and I check my phone to confirm nothing’s changed, although why it would’ve in the past half hour, I don’t know.
Sure enough, the last message about today is the email from Colin.
Sadie and Mav,
You’ll meet one street over from the market at 5pm. Hold hands, look cute. This is a casual outing, not a planned PR event, which means you need to act like no one’s watching. But they are. I’ve got photographers staged to grab a couple of shots that we can control, but guaranteed there will be more taken that we don’t know about.
It’s showtime, kids.
Colin
Look cute. Act natural. Sure, that sounds simple enough. And I repeat that to myself the entire short drive to where I’m meeting Maverick. But when I see him leaning against a black SUV, any semblance of calm I had dissipates in seconds. My hands are still gripping the steering wheel so tightmy knuckles are white, and I’m staring straight ahead when I hear a light knock on my window. Gulping in a breath, I let go and unlock the door.
Maverick takes that for the invitation it is and opens the door before crouching down beside me. “Hey, Specs.”
“Don’t call me that,” I whisper, but it’s a feeble request. Part of me kind of likes the pet name, even if I suspect he initially meant it in a derogatory sense.
“You ready for this?” he asks, not even acknowledging my request. I should be mad at the dismissal of my complaint, but all I can focus on is how good he smells.
Like a walk in a forest after it’s rained, with a hint of something deeper that has me leaning forward before I can stop myself.
Then he stands up and backs away, and I catch myself before I start to fall out of my darn car. I put my purse over my shoulder and climb out of my car.
There’s no missing the way his gaze travels up and down my body when I’m upright, and I inwardly thank Ali for pushing me to wear the shorts when he pauses on my legs. I had a growth spurt when I hit puberty, but instead of growing taller, I developed curves. It took me a long time to hit a point of acceptance for my midsize body. But seeing Maverick stare at my legs with unmistakable heat in his eyes, longer than he probably should, is doing a lot for my self-esteem.
Of course, he doesn’t say anything, not even when he realizes I’ve caught him staring. Instead, he just turns in the direction of the market and starts walking.
Here goes nothing.
We slowly walk over to the rows of stalls that make up the local farmer’s market. I love coming here on the weekend and taking my time wandering through while looking at everything. But being here today with this man at my side has all of my senses heightened. The sun is brighter, even from behind my sunglasses, the sounds and voices sharper in my ears. I find myself tightening my hold on Maverick’s hand, my gaze darting around, trying to see if I can catch anyone paying attention to us. When it’s not overtly obvious in the first few minutes, I force myself to relax.
But in order to sell this, we have to do more than walk around hand in hand with what feels like ten feet of distance between us. Maverick is stiff next to me, not looking at me or saying anything. Spying my favourite florist stall, I tug him in that direction. “This vendor always has stunning flowers, I’d love to get some for my office,” I say brightly, hoping my cheery tone doesn’t sound as forced as it feels.
I spend a few minutesoohingandaahingover the bright dahlias and sunflowers. Maverick is a wall of silence behind me, and it’s becoming more and more clear that he’s not just uncomfortable, he genuinely doesn’t know how to act.
Has this man seriously never had a girlfriend or gone on a date? It’s baffling, really. But Colin’s words are in my ear. Act natural, look cute. And assume anyone and everyone is watching.
I pretend to be busy choosing between two bouquets as I try to come up with a plan of action. Somehow, I need him to relax and at least try to pretend he’s enjoying himself. But as I settle on a riotous mix of dahlias, a small voice reaches us.
“’Scuse me, are you Maverick King?”
I turn to see the big, tattooed man crouch down in front of a kid who can’t be more than six.
“Yeah, I am.” His voice sounds gruff but kind.
“You’re a really good player. I wanna be on the Tridents when I grow up.”
Oh my God, this kid is adorable. There’s no avoiding the smile growing on my face as I watch them interact. A woman is standing to the side, watching the kid like a hawk. She catches my eye and smiles nervously. I try to give a reassuring grin back to her.
“You want an autograph?” Maverick asks, and the way the kid’s eyes light up makes me want to melt.
He nods eagerly, and the mom steps forward, a pen and note pad already out and ready. A few minutes later and Maverick’s waving goodbye as he straightens from his crouch, turning back to me.
“Sorry.”
My head is moving side to side as I just clutch the bouquet of flowers to my chest. “Don’t be, that was really sweet.”
To my utter shock, pink colours his cheeks as he stuff his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Kids don’t come up to me that often. The tattoos, I guess.”
