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“I meant to say if you’re extremely lucky.”
She got up from the sofa and let him envelop her hand with his. “Oh, so you’re thinking about it.”
“Yep.”
“All right. Let me know when you’ve decided.”
He leaned toward her ear and she shivered as his hot breath rolled over her skin. “You can bet your sweet little ass I will.”
The two of them were so caught up in their pre-dinner flirtation that neither one of them realized Connor had stopped playing until he tugged on Charlie’s leg.
“I’m hungry,” Connor said.
“Oh,” Charlie said, keeping her cool as she pointed to the barstool. “Do you want help up?”
Connor ignored her question and climbed up onto the chair himself. He dug into the food without another word, but that was okay. He was coming around. And Rick Simon was the reason.
She glanced at Rick, her stomach somersaulting at the intense, hot, look in his eyes.
“You ready to eat?” he asked.
She nodded and grabbed a plate. Who was this guy?
Chapter Thirteen
Maverick’s cell woke him before the sun was up. He glanced at his watch, groaned when he realized it was barely five in the morning, and promptly tossed his pillow onto the pile of clothes that held his cell, before sliding underneath his other pillow.
Charlie had left around ten the night before—Connor was falling asleep—and Rick had been up until three AM working on a song that had him fired up. He knew he had to get up soon if he wanted to make the sled run, but hell, he needed at least another hour of sleep.
Charlie .
He smiled, burying himself beneath the warm covers. They’d spent a lazy night chatting and flirting outrageously when Connor wasn’t looking. The air had literally buzzed with sexual tension and even though they’d done nothing more than sneak a few hot kisses, the night had been one he wouldn’t forget. She was funny as hell, sweet on her brother, and just plain interesting.
The girl could build an engine from scratch and knew more about cars than most guys he knew. She loved hockey, had an eighteen handicap when it came to golf and played baseball in the summer. She was sexy as hell, and she was the angel who’d infiltrated his dreams. Charlie Samuels was one hell of a woman and Rick closed his eyes, envisioning her bent over his brother’s Shelby in nothing but a sexy black thong.
Yeah baby. That was an image meant for dreams.
He’d just drifted off when he was again awakened by his cell, and this time it wouldn’t stop ringing. With a snarl he rolled out of bed, making a mental note to change his ringtone to something less grating than War Pigs. He liked the Black Sabbath song, just not first thing in the morning.
There was a time and place, he thought, just like this damn phone call.
“What?” he barked, setting the cell against his ear as he searched for his jeans. There was no use in going back to bed and he had to be up soon anyway.
“Hey, it’s me. Sorry about the early hour.”
Suddenly awake, Maverick stilled. “Jack? What’s going on? Is it the baby?”
“No. God no. Donovan is good. Cranky as hell, but good.” His cousin sounded tired, which did nothing to reassure Maverick. Something was up and he sat down on the edge of the bed, gut tight because he had a feeling…
“It’s about Teague.”
“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his chin and staring at the floor.
“Have you been watching the news?”
“No, should I be?”
“Absolutely not,” Jack replied. “Don’t even go there. Most of the reports are exaggerated and are only half truths.”
