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But up close like this, I can see the fire in her eyes, the big flecks of gold swimming in her hazel eyes, the square set of her shoulders, and the firm set of her jaw. No fucking way. This woman is a white-hot fire under the plain demeanor. “Maven. It’s important.”
“It’s my business, and I’ll handle it as I see fit. Thank you very much.”
“I don’t mind a woman with a stubborn streak,” I tell her. “But something is going on in my town, and I need to know what.”
“Your town?” She points one flour-dusted finger in my direction, her expression furious and her body taut with tension. “Other people live here too. And that’s exactly why I’m not telling you,” she says and pokes me in the chest. “The last thing I need,” she says and puts both hands to my chest, shoving me backward, “is a bunch of angry bikers all up in my business.”
“Sorry, babe, but your business is my business.”
Her eyes widen in fury. “My business ismybusiness,” she growls, and her fist pounds on my chest. “You don’t own my business, and you don’t own me!” Her fists are small, but her anger makes them sting. She’s upset. I don’t put hands on women, but I also don’t take no shit, either.
“Maven,” I growl, but she’s too angry to hear me, her fists still keeping up a furious pace. “Maven,” I call a little louder and wrap my hands around her wrists.
“No! This is my business. My building and my space. You don’t own it, and you have no say over what happens!” Her knee went up almost instinctively, and I cross a leg to protect my dick.
“Dammit.” The word comes out in an anguished cry, and I feel for her.
“Maven,” I whisper and release her wrists to wrap my arms around her body, locking her arms at her side. “Maven. Stop.” My words are firm but quiet, and I repeat them over and over again. “Just stop.”
She’s a firecracker, though, and still jerks and flails against me, stirring my cock to life. I tell him to back the fuck down and turn Maven in my arms until her back is flush against my chest. I squeeze tighter, hoping the steady beat of my heart helps to calm her down.
“No,” she cries. “I can’t.”
The fear and anger swirl together, and my heart aches for her, but the other part of me, the angry kid in foster care, wants to hunt that Cyrus fucker down and beat him until he’s a lump of blood and flesh.
I lean in so that my lips are right beside her ear. “It’s all right, Maven. Be pissed off and angry and scared. I just want to talk. To help.”
At my whispered words, all the tension flees her body, and she gives me more of her weight even as she shakes her head, rejecting my offer of a listening ear.
“I don’t believe you,” she replies on a whisper.
“I have no reason to lie.”
“I know,” she says. “You don’t need to lie to me. I’m nobody.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re Maven of the famous Maven Cakes.”
She lets out a huff of laughter. “Right. Look, I appreciate that you and your biker buddies come in here and support my business, but I don’t want or need you getting involved in my business or my life. Period.”
I nod to let her know I hear what she’s saying. “I don’t want to get involved either, but if some asshole is beating on business owners in my town, I need to know.”
“Youwantto know,” she shoots back. “There’s a difference.”
“I get it. You still love that bastard, and you want to make sure he’s safe,” I tell her. This isn’t my first time at the abusive bastard rodeo. “I’m not going to kill him. I promise.”
Chapter Five
Maven
I promise. Wilder’s words come out on a deep whisper that, somehow, soothes all the wild and angry parts of my soul. His body emanates the kind of heat that goes right down to my bones and warms me from the inside out.
I know it’s ridiculous to believe him, to let those two little words sway me at all, but they are working, dammit.
“That man will live to hit you another day,” he says with a hint of anger in his deep voice.
Maybe it’s because I’m desperate to believe there is such a thing as a good man out there in the world, or maybe it’s just because I’m tired and shaken from my encounter with Cyrus.
It’s all so unbelievable that the man carried out in handcuffs this morning is the same man who ordered for me on our first date. It can’t be the same person; it just can’t.
