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“So Charlie’s a woman,” Maverick said with a slow smile.
“Like I haven’t heard that before.” The sarcasm was heavy, but he ignored it.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“I didn’t say that I was offended.”
For the life of him, Maverick had no idea what he’d done to deserve such coldness. He didn’t answer her. He didn’t move. He just stared at her. Waiting for the right moment. It came. He saw it in the little tick beside that full mouth.
“Have I done something I shouldn’t have?” he asked.
She pointed toward the boy. “He doesn’t talk to strangers.”
Okay. He got that. She was protective of her kid, but still…
“And apparently you don’t either?”
“Don’t what?”
“Talk to strangers.”
“No, not really.” There was no hesitation, though he noted a slight flair in her nostrils and maybe a bit of a blush in her cheeks.
Okay. What the hell? He frowned, trying to figure her out.
“What?” She glanced up at him.
“You don’t like me,” he said.
“I don’t know you.”
“True. Do you dislike everyone you don’t know?”
“I don’t dislike…” She licked the corner of her mouth and swore, eyes darting behind him. “You’re making him nervous. Can you please move away from Connor?” It wasn’t a question, but a command.
The boy was banging his fork against the counter, his timing perfect, yet there was something about the way his body was positioned. About the way his eyes were focused, not on what he was doing, but off into space.
Maverick moved a step away.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply, eyes sliding from his to the boy again.
“I hear that you’re a mechanic.”
His gaze moved over her clothes, for the first time noting grease on the knees of her faded jeans. Heavy work boots adorned her feet and the pea green jacket she wore was big and bulky. It looked as if it had seen better days and was threadbare in the elbow.
Other than her striking eyes and delicate facial features, it was hard to know what she looked like underneath all that gear.
“And?” she asked, in what could only be described as a ‘duh’ moment.
Maverick’s mouth thinned a bit. He wasn’t used to such hostility coming from someone he’d barely met. Damn, but this woman was prickly.
She moved by him and he caught the faintest whisper of vanilla.
And motor oil.
The little boy turned to the side as she pulled his hat back on, eyes on the floor. She yelled down at Jessie, “We’ve got to run.” And tossed a five dollar bill onto the counter.
“That’s it?” Maverick asked. “Don’t you want to know why I was enquiring after a mechanic?”
