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“What’s going on?” I blurt out and twirl around to face him, taking a step backward. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
Maverick watches me closely, his arms crossing over that impressive chest that I’ve seen more than a few times shirtless. My fingers itch to touch him, to rub against him and play with every inch of his sweet, beautiful work of art body. I know he works out at the clubhouse and even gets in the ring they have there. Shoot, I’ve even seen him fight in said ring against another member of the club.
“How come you didn’t tell any of us it was your birthday?” he asks, cocking his head slightly, legs planted firmly in place, and in the position we’re standing in, I’m blocked from getting around him.
“I don’t know.” I shrug, not wanting to talk about this.
“Bullshit, Sweets. Tell me why you didn’t tell us this shit.” Maverick steps farther into my space and my breath catches.
I don’t want to answer him. If I do, it’s me giving a part of my past, and I don’t want that, but if I don’t tell him, he’ll keep pushing until I tell him something.
Sighing, I wrap my arms around my waist and lower my head, not looking at him, or even the floor for that matter. The memories threaten to push through the barrier as I fight them back. “I was kidnapped on my birthday and sold to the man you all saved me from.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Maverick says, grinding out through gritted teeth. The next second, he pulls me in his arms. “I’m sorry, Nevaeh, I really am.”
I nod and burrow my face in his chest, doing my best to keep the walls to the barrier firmly in place, but it’s like they want to rattle open which I refuse to allow happen.
I clear my throat and pull away from him, getting myself back in check. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Sweets,” he says softly, eyes gentle yet watchful in a way I’ve never noticed him look at me or anyone before. “You know you don’t have to be strong all the time. I’m here, and you can talk to me.”
I shake my head and wrap my arms around myself in the protective manner I’ve done all my life. “Just tell me what you wanted to talk to me about.”
Maverick releases a sigh and shakes his head. “This evening, we’re heading out to the coast.”
“We?” I furrow my brow. “You mean you and the club?”
“No, I mean you and me.” He gestures between us and looks down to where Gizmo makes himself known once more by clawing at Maverick’s jeans. “And I guess Gizmo too.”
“Um, what do you mean we’re going to the coast? Why am I going with you? You didn’t even ask.” The thought of going anywhere with Maverick has my heart beating faster and my body longing for his touch.
“A few other brothers are gonna meet us there, but Viking wants you with me on this. Thinks you can help us out. You’ve got damn good instincts when it comes to character judgment and considering what we’re going to be looking at, it would be helpful to have. We’ll be there for a few days, figure we can also enjoy the beach while we’re there,” he explains, picking up Gizmo.
I’m too surprised by what he’s disclosed to me that I’m having a hard time struggling with the fact he’s snuggling with my kitten. “What about work?” The question rolls off my lips before I realize I asked it.
“Apricot already knows by now since Grimm was in on the conversation,” he says, sliding his eyes back to me from looking at Gizmo. “She will be cool about it, so you’re good. Now, I do suggest going ahead and packing enough for a week to be on the safe side. And since we’ll have this guy,” he holds up Gizmo, “we’ll take my truck.”
“Uh . . . okay.” I blink, not sure what to say. My blood roars in my veins, making it hard to focus on anything. “When are we leaving?”
“We’ll head out later this evening after dinner. It’ll take us a few hours to get there, but I hate tourist traffic, so I prefer to get there late and not be in bumper-to-bumper traffic.”
I nod, understanding what he means. If we’re going to the coast, it can be horrible dealing with people rushing. I’m not a fan of driving and haven’t been since I first learned how to drive. My mom and dad used. . . I shut the thought down before I can allow it to complete itself in my mind.
“I guess I’ll go pack then,” I remark and reach for Gizmo just as someone knocks on the door.
“You do that, Sweets. I’ll handle the door and get dinner started,” Maverick states, staring at me and assessing me.
Again, I nod, this time stepping away from Maverick and with quick steps, I make my way out of the living space that contains the living room, dining area, and kitchen all in one swoop. It’s an open floor so you can be anywhere in the space and still be able to see the TV. I thought this was cool because it meant when9-1-1: Lone Starwas on, I didn’t have to miss seeing Rob Lowe or Jim Parrack in action. I also didn’t miss9-1-1, the first one with Oliver Stark and Ryan Guzman. Those two are awesome. Plus, Ryan’s character’s kid, Christopher, is so cute. I love how he’s just so sweet and smart.
I wonder if Maverick would ever sit and watch either show with me. We’ve never done that before, sat and watched anything. I always seem to bolt away from him at any given chance. But it seems that won’t be happening anymore. There’s no way to get away from him, not when I’ll be in a truck with him for hours, or the fact we’ll be all but alone away from the clubhouse.
In my room, I set Gizmo down and take a deep breath, feeling my chest heave with the knowledge. Images of possibilities pop into my head unwanted. Well, not totally, but there’s no way any of that would happen.
Not when I’m filth, and he’s . . . well, he’s perfection.
* * *
A knock comes at my door nearly an hour later. I guess I’ve been using the time to not only pack but hide away from Maverick while I freak the hell out about what to put in my bag.
