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She’d once told Maverick that none of the men she married could hold a candle to his father. And when Maverick had asked her why she would marry a man she didn’t love, she’d shrugged and said that it was better than being alone. That having a little bit of happiness, even for just a while, was better than a lifetime of loneliness.
The thing of it was, what his mother called a little bit of happiness was nothing more than a Band-Aid. It was called settling for less and it never lasted.
He thought of Charlie and the life she had, running the family business and raising a young brother on her own. She was so damn strong.
A slow smile curved his mouth. She was the kind of woman who would never settle.
He wondered what kind of man she would accept into that life, and he frowned, not liking the thought of her and someone else.
“What the hell is up with you anyway?” Cooper asked. “And don’t bullshit me, because I know it’s more than Teague. You’ve got this weird look on your face.”
Startled, Maverick jerked his head to the left and knew that he was busted. Cooper had an insane ability to pick up on stuff. There was no point in deflecting or denying. The guy’s bullshit meter was bang on.
“I met someone.”
Cooper whistled. “Now we’re talking. Where?”
Maverick shot him an irritated glance. “Bogota. Where the hell do you think?”
The look on his brother’s face was comical. “You met someone in Maine? In Fisherman’s Landing?”
“Gotta say Coop. You’re on the ball today.”
His brother exited the highway and they continued onto the Keys. “Who is she?” Cooper asked, ignoring Maverick’s sarcasm.
Maverick clamped his jaw tightly. There was history here, between the two of them, and some of it wasn’t pretty. To put it bluntly, his brother was a man-whore and, up until a few years ago, would screw anything that moved, including his brother Maverick’s girlfriend.
Of course that was water under the bridge now, but at the time Cooper claimed he’d been doing Maverick a favor (which he had, apparently the girl in question had a hit list that included all the Simon boys and had already slept with Teague). It had happened when Maverick was twenty-two and his brother was twenty-five. They’d settled it like guys generally do. The settling had involved alcohol, fists, a broken rib (Maverick’s) a broken nose (Cooper’s) and about two thousand dollars of damage done to a hotel room.
When the dust had settled, the girl was long gone and the brothers were drunk, sore, and—the score was settled—they were stuck with each other.
“What’s it to you?” Maverick shot back.
Cooper shrugged. “Just curious is all.” His brother grinned. “Is she hot?”
Maverick swore.
“So she’s hot.”
“What she is, is none of your business,” he retorted.
“Well she kinda is if she’s involved with you.” Cooper’s voice changed and there was some edge to it. “Maine is my retreat. It’s my place to go and disappear and I sure as hell want to keep it that way.” Cooper glanced his way. “Does she know who you are?”
“No,” Maverick barked. “At least I don’t think so.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Does she or doesn’t she?”
“It means that I told her my name and as far as I can tell, it means nothing to her. Hell, it’s not as if either one of us is Beau-the-movie-star or Jack-the-politician. We’re just the cousins.”
“Well when you put it that way,” Cooper said dryly.
Maverick swore and glanced out the window. America had been fascinated by the Simons for decades. Whether it was their wealth, their looks, or their political aspirations, they were known as the Southern Kennedys—a comparison that was getting old. And even though Maverick or Cooper weren’t in movies or making policy, they attracted their share of attention.
The only good side was that Maverick’s name wasn’t nearly as recognizable as Beau’s or Jack’s. He liked it that way and these days most of his notoriety came from his association with Donovan James and—
“Yeah, well it
wasn’t my naked ass plastered all over the Internet. Trust me, Elle Mason is milking that for all it’s worth. Which reminds me. She called the other day.”
