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At least for tonight.
The music gets louder, and I sigh with a shake of my head, wishing I could bring Maven out here, have a drink with her and get to know her. Today wasn’t a good first day as her protector.
Sure, she ended her shift safe and sound, but things were tense. She was, rightfully, angry as fuck at me and Preacher, resentful and sarcastic all damn day.
I wish I could say it made her annoying and unbearable, but it doesn’t. It only makes me want her more. My fingers itch to touch her, and instead of staying here and partying with my brothers, I sidle up to the bar with a smile for Stella, eyeing Tank like he’s the last slice of chocolate cake.
“What can I getcha, sweetie?” she asks coyly as fuck.
“A frozen bottle of Fireball is calling my name. I’ll take that and three shot glasses." Maven may be new to Fireball shots, but it always gives me a good time.
"You sure you can handle that, Wild Man?" Stella's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. I just smirk and pour us each a shot.
"To new beginnings." I clink my glass against hers and we both throw the cinnamon liquid back. Maven may be trouble, but she's the kind of trouble I'm looking for.
At my words, Stella’s smile falls, and she turns back to Tank when it’s clear she’s not whom I’m after.
“Good luck with that one. She seems tightly wound.”
“That’s part of the appeal.” I shrug and pick up the other shot glass, and head to Maven’s room.
Maven isn’t a hostage. Keeping her locked in that room alone while the rest of us party all night doesn’t feel right. I knock on the door just in case she’s asleep or naked and wait.
It’s silent on the other side of the door, so I knock again as I unlock the door and step inside.
“Are you decent, Maven?”
Chapter Thirteen
Maven
Decent? I let out a loud, bitter bark of laughter. “Oh yeah, I was just luxuriating in a hot bath with my favorite scent of bubbles and sifting through my belongings for my most comfortable pajamas.”
My tone is sarcastic as hell, and I can’t seem to stop myself. “Totally decent.”
Wilder steps in, wearing a sheepish smile and holding up a bottle of Fireball. “Sorry about the clothes stuff. I’ll figure something out. Promise.”
I fold my arms and arch a brow to let him know just what his promises mean to me. “What’s with the booze?”
He smiles, and I feel the warmth deep down to my bones. “Coop and Kelsey had their baby. Carmine Rocky Cooper. Thought you wouldn’t mind a celebratory drink since you know Kelsey.”
“Thoughtful.” I remind myself that Cyrus had been thoughtful. Polite and well-mannered too. At the beginning. “Why bother, though? I mean, I can’t hear a damn thing in here, so you can party all night, and I’ll just sit in here alone and bored, none the wiser.”
His shoulders fall in disappointment. “I’m sorry, Maven, about all of this. But you did try to run, and that makes it hard to believe you won’t do it again.”
I nod because I did try to run. “Did I try to run once atFor Goodness Cakes?”
“No,” he grins. “Because you know I’ll catch you if you do. Let’s sit and have a nice chat over a few too many drinks, Maven. Relax a bit. What do you say?”
Weigh my options. Drink alone and probably start crying over the fucked-up state of my life again, or get a little too tipsy with excellent man candy to look at for an hour or two? As if that’s really a brain tickler.
“I say get to pouring. Please.”
He grins. “Even when you’re pissed, you’re polite. I like that about you.”
“My compliance?”
“No,” he shakes his head and sets the bottle and two glasses on the small round table. “I like that even when you’re pissed off, you don’t let it change who you are at your core. A nice woman.”
