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“Bradley, this is Bridget Beckett on the Hunter Valley project.” I fiddled with a Montana state magnet on the fridge as I spoke.
“Hello, Bridget.” He was calm and confident for a Sunday.
“Um… I’m trying to get in touch with Mav–Maverick and he’s not answering his phone.”
“He’s on a flight back to Denver right now. I’m sure he’ll be in touch.”
The Chinese menu the magnet held fell to the floor.
“He left?” I asked, my voice weaker than I wanted it to be.
Maverick had dropped me off after having sex with me, then left. Not just me, but the state.
“Yes. This morning. He has personal tasks to see to.”
I had to admit, Bradley was the perfect assistant. Ever the diplomat.
“You mean to get married,” I told him.
“Yes.”
I looked to Mal and Lindy. “He’s getting married.”
If Bradley said it was happening, it was happening.
“Tell Mav…” My lip started to quiver, and I swallowed hard. “Tell him I… tell him to fuck off.” Saying that, it was like the damn burst on my hurt. “That I trusted him. That he’s the biggest fucking dick, and I know a number of them. I’m sure you got all that word for word. Don’t worry about going to HR with it because I quit.”
I hung up blindly since tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t see.
I started to cry. Serious, hard-core crying.
“I’m… I… how could I be so stupid. Again?”
Arms circled me, pulled me in for a hug as I sobbed.
I’d let Maverick James in. Trusted him. Believed his words. That I was his good girl. That I was what he wanted. Needed. That he liked me just the way I was. That all he wanted from me was… me.
Yeah, right. All he wanted from me was to get laid. Used and left. Like usual. For being so smart, I was really fucking dumb.
38
MAVERICK
* * *
I waited for the flight attendant to open the private jet’s entry door, Scout at my heels. I gave a curt smile to the woman and descended the steps.
It was hotter in Denver, especially on the tarmac. Brighter. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be in Hunter Valley, with Bridget. In bed. In my shower. Hell, in the group of fucking Ponderosa pines.
I cut through the small terminal in a rush, Scout following, ready to deal with the shit that was going on. I’d had my head between Bridget’s thighs at dawn, waking her up to me licking her clit and fingerfucking her to orgasm. Now, only a few hours later, I was in Colorado and dealing with a not-so-secret fake fiancée. I knew this might come up someday. Hoped for it, in fact. Farrah deserved to fall in love and get married.
But why now? Why this fucking week when I just met Bridget? Things were good–no, fucking great–but shit, she had a history with asshole men who used her and left her. Treated her like shit. Stole from her. Hurt her heart.
Now she’d think it included me. Once she read about the wedding, she’d assume the worst. That I was no better than the guys who’d fucked her over before. No, worse. Because I knew what had happened with them, what she’d been through. I’d blatantly told her I wasn’t like them, that she was safe with me. I’d literally asked her to trust me with her body and her heart.
She had and it had been so fucking amazing.
No doubt she thought I used her. Lied.
