8
TAYLOR
SWEPT UNDER THE RUG
Tears still burn the back of my throat as I gulp back my emotion. Maverick leads me back down the street. We buy three different types of candy and chocolate and then head to the drugstore as promised. He encourages me to choose shampoo and conditioner, and not cheap brands. He drifts past the cosmetics and nods in the direction of the makeup. “I’m not saying you need it, but if you want it, you should have it.”
His smile is kind and warm, but Mindy’s words still echo around my head. She called me plain. Is that what Maverick thinks, too? Is that why he’s encouraging me to buy lipstick, so I can look more like that awful woman?
I’ve always wanted to try makeup, but I never had the money to waste on frivolous things, and my father would have mocked me for wearing it.
Now, Mindy’s stolen the desire.
The doubt I feel about my own attractiveness rests heavily beneath my ribs.
When I shake my head, Maverick raises his brows. “You still listening to Mindy’s shit?” he asks.
I can’t answer because admitting it makes me pathetic and denying it makes me a liar.
“How about some of this?” He pulls out a small pot of apricot-colored lip gloss. It says it’s scented with vanilla. “You’ll smell like muffins.”
A little watery laugh bursts from me, and I press my hand over my lips to keep myself contained.
“And this?” He picks up a pot of moisturizer with rose petals on the top.
My eyes drift to the section with a rainbow of colored eyeshadow and blush. They have about twenty different mascaras. I’ve always wondered what I’d look like with darker eyelashes. Mine fade to fair at the tips. I reach out for a dark brown mascara and Maverick seems pleased.
On our way to pay, I realize I’m going to need some stuff for when I get my period. As mortifying as it is to gather pads and tampons, it would be more mortifying to be unprepared.
Maverick takes everything to the counter, and all I can do is watch while he pays. His broad shoulders stretch out the back of his shirt, and his waist tapers into his jeans, which reveal thick thighs and a toned ass. No wonder a woman like Mindy is hungry for him. Knowing he’s been with women like that makes me cross my arms across my chest and curl my shoulders. I’m not good enough for him. Even with all the mascara in the world, I’m not going to be what he really wants.
This is all just convenience to him, to all of them.
It’s a convenience for me, too, though. I have a full stomach and an even fuller wardrobe. I have a husband and two other men who are treating me with kindness. This isn’t a fairytale love story, but it’s more than I could have hoped for, more than I really deserve.
As we leave the store, Mindy walks along the sidewalk in front of us. She switches her hips seductively, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder, and I shiver with the rush of hatred and envy I feel toward her. They’re not nice emotions, but I can’t help it.
Maverick moves closer to me, putting his arm over my shoulder. I’m stiff as a plank of wood in his embrace, but he doesn’t pull away.
When we’re at the truck, he opens the door for me and then climbs inside himself. I turn to look out of the window, not wanting him to see the tears that have returned.
As the engine comes to life, I fiddle with the hem of my shirt.
Maverick’s warm hand settles on my thigh, not in a sexual way but more like a steady comfort to help take some of the pain away. The gesture is too much, and my throat catches in a rough, strangled noise.
“She’s not worth your tears, Taylor.” Casting his head around to make sure we’re free to go, Maverick pulls out into the road. With every shop we pass and put behind us, my breath eases, and I sink into the chair, defeated. We’ve left Mindy behind, but her words are still stuck in me like splinters. She’s right, though. I’m not like her.
I’m not pretty, feminine, or slim. I’m plain and boring and lumpy. My father’s words loop in my mind on repeat, mixing with Mindy’s.
Why would anyone want me?
Maverick takes something from his shirt pocket and passes it across to me. I look down at the tiny white square of cotton. The gesture takes the last of my resolve, and I crumple, using the handkerchief to mop up the tears that fall uncontrollably now. I haven’t cried like this since my mother died, and it’s a release of years of built-up emotion.
Thoughts of Molly flash into my mind, and that only makes me sob more.
“Thank you for defending me.”
“She’s got no respect and no right to talk to you like that, or to me. She’s got a real attitude problem, and I’m sorry you got tangled up in it. I should have known better. She’s got a bad reputation. We do some business with her daddy, and he’s not gonna be happy when he hears about this.”
“Please don’t tell him. I don’t want to make it worse.” My hands tremble in my lap as the racing of my heart increases.
“You gotta trust me on this. I know how to handle these things. Jesse and Clint will be told, too. And I think we’ve gotta work on you finding your voice, you know. Standing up for yourself. You shouldn’t just absorb crap from other people. You’re worth more than that, Taylor.”
I push away the rising thought that he didn’t know how to handle what just happened, but it’s not my place to say. Who am I to talk, after all? I can’t even defend myself. And how the hell does he always seem to know what I’m thinking?
“What did she mean about her being your girl?” Maybe I’m pushing my luck here, but to be honest, it looked to me like Mindy was madly in love with Maverick. I turn to look at him, and his neck flushes red.
“She was never my girl, although maybe she wanted to be. She’s young and clearly got the wrong idea about what happened. There was no meaning in any of it for me.” He’s so flippant about what he had with Mindy. Is this his attitude to all women?
“It was over a year ago. I don’t understand what her problem is.”
Perhaps there’s more to it, but for now, I don’t have the strength to push the issue. From the truck window, the semi-urban scenery gives way to dusty nothingness, and off into the distance, a glimpse of the jagged peaks immediately releases some of the tension I’m holding onto. The landscape is a comfort to me. The wide, open space feels strangely like freedom and possibility.
Maverick reaches to turn on the radio and settles on a song he likes. He clearly feels more comfortable away from the hustle and bustle of the town. Unexpectedly, he sings along to the radio. Despite how quietly he sings, I’m taken aback by the smoothness of his voice. The mellow tone is pitch-perfect. He’s holding back.
“You sing!”
He smirks. “I’m a man of many talents.” He returns to singing along to the tune. I’m certain he sounds better than the artist on the radio, but I don’t say anything. Again, he reads my mind.
“I reckon I sound better than the man himself.” He chuckles casually and throws a glance in my direction like he’s checking to see if I agree before setting his eyes back on the road. Maybe Maverick isn’t as confident as he pretends to be.
“‘I’ve no idea who he is!”
“It’s Luke Combs, one of my favorites.”
Maverick’s voice rises a little, and it melts me like butter. It’s a beautiful, comforting sound.
One of my cowboys can sing, and one cares for animals. I wonder what Jesse’s secret talent is. At least I can cook and bake.
“We’ve all got something we’re good at. I mean, look at how you can cook. You’ve got some talent right there.” Now, I’m certain he can read my mind, but still, I blush.
“Yeah, and it shows.” I focus on the thickness of my thighs, then turn away to gaze at the landscape. I recognize some of the landmarks near the ranch: a certain tree, a jutting rock, the shape of the fence.
“You’re womanly, Taylor. I love your curves. And I know Clint and Jesse do, too. You’re perfect as you are, in all the right places. What, you wanna be a bag of old chicken bones like Mindy and her gaggle of followers? Some of them are even worse than she is!”
I don’t know what I want. I’ve never had a chance to even think about it. Maybe it’d be nice to be confident like Mindy, but her looks haven’t gotten her what she wants. I glance at Maverick, taking in his strong profile and the way his lips always turn up at the corners. I have what Mindy wants. Maybe I’m not doing too badly, after all.
By the time we pull up at the ranch, I’m emotionally wrung out and not sure how I feel anymore. I look down at the soiled handkerchief. Crumpling it between my fingers, I stuff it into my pocket.
Maverick cuts the engine, and we sit in silence for a few moments. I feel relieved to be back, which is an odd sensation under the circumstances.
Maverick touches his hat, pushing it up a little. He licks his lips, biting the bottom one, then he turns to me. “You know, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here, Taylor. And I hope that in time, you’re gonna feel the same way.” He reaches over to take my hands, and I shift to face him. My heart skips a beat. The questioning in his warm, hazel eyes reveals a gentle need for reassurance, but the masculine squareness of his jaw and the healthy whiteness of his perfect teeth cause me to look away quickly before he notices my blush. I want to take his face in my hands and feel the prickle of his stubble beneath my fingers. I want to trace the lines that crease at the corners of his eyes, the result of years of laughter. I risk a glance back, and his eyes and lips smile softly. “Let me get your bags from the trunk and into the house. I’m taking ownership of another one of those muffins in there, and then you’re gonna set to work on more because I want to see what other flavors you’ve got up your sleeve.”
“You’re not gonna tell the others what happened, are you?” My voice is a desperate plea.
“We want to protect you, and I don’t keep secrets from my friends. They’re not gonna like it. Being rude to you is the same as being rude to us.”
I exhale, admitting defeat. I’m not used to having anyone in my corner, and now I have three men ready to come to my aid. It’ll take some getting used to.
I reach to open the car door and Maverick tuts. “Hell no, you sit right there!” He makes his way around my side of the car and helps me out. “Ma’am.” He removes his hat in a broad, theatrical sweeping gesture, bending down to almost skim the dusty ground with it. I can’t help but smile. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses me with an old-world flourish and eye contact so fierce, I blush.
He unloads the bags of clothing and the drugstore items and takes them inside. I love the way that no one needs to lock the door. It’s just always open for whoever wants to come inside. Neither Clint nor Jesse are home, which is a relief as having to go over everything that happened in town is not something I’m keen on doing right now. All I want to do is hide away for a bit.
“I’m going to unpack. I’ve got some chores to do upstairs.”
“I’ll carry these bags up for you,” Maverick says, already striding into the hallway. I guess I don’t have a choice. I follow him up, hoping he’s going to have a burning desire to get back to work, but when he drops the bags onto the floor next to my bed, he turns and reaches out for my hand.
“Today wasn’t what I hoped it would be. I wanted you to have a good time… I wanted it to feel like a treat.”
His bewitching, smiling eyes search mine, and I try my hardest to smile so he doesn’t feel bad. “It was fun, and you treated me to more than I would ever have asked for.”
He touches my cheek. “You’re as sweet as your blueberry muffins, you know that?”
I shrug, embarrassed. My sister, Molly, is sweet. I feel tough but brittle. Wearing a hard shell on the outside to protect my fragile interior. It brings a lump to my throat to wonder what I would have been like if I didn’t have to deal with my past.
“Can I kiss you, muffin?” Maverick’s eyes focus on my mouth, and he folds his lips in, releasing them with a sheen.
I’m trembling inside, uncertain about myself and what all of this means to me. But I’m not uncertain about Maverick. Despite Mindy’s criticism, I can feel his good soul like an aura emanating from him. I want to press myself up against him so his good energy can envelop me and push away the tinge of gray that’s clung to me since Mom died. I want him to break through my toughened exterior so I can be the sweet girl he thinks I am.
Instead of answering, I press up onto my toes and rest my lips against his. With a soft moan, his mouth takes over, teasing me with kisses that feel sweet and tender. His hand slides over my ribs to rest on my waist. He takes his time as if he wants to explore slowly enough for me to get used to him. When his hands slide lower to grip my ass, I grip his shirt in my fists.
“So perfect,” he murmurs in between kisses. My hands have a life of their own, drifting over the fabric of his shirt, mapping his muscled chest as I grow familiar with the slide of his tongue over mine. Each cowboy has their own way of kissing and touching, different but so in tune with me, it’s like listening to three of my favorite songs from three different artists.
My fingers toy with his buttons, wanting to feel skin, and he draws back when my palm slides over his warm abs. “Taylor.” The rasp in his voice sends heat between my thighs that turns into a deep ache.
“Maverick.” My voice carries its own huskiness.
“We don’t have to.”
My flinch at his words is a reaction I can’t control, but he’s quick to clarify.
“I want to, muffin. So damn much.” To illustrate, he pulls my hand down to his crotch and presses it against his very hard cock. “See how much.”
I gasp at the unfamiliar hardness that pulses behind my palm. He’s big and so solid, and I flush imagining what it’ll be like to feel the heat of him.
“But do you?”
I nod. The need to feel his arms and the security they offer makes me tremble. Sex can’t fix anything, really. But it can make me forget for a while.
“Yes,” I whisper.
When he lifts my shirt over my head, I’m the one who unfastens my bra. It’s ratty and old and too small so leaving it on isn’t going to tantalize anyone.
“Jesus, Taylor.” Maverick’s eyes widen, and he reaches out to cup my breasts. I’m already wriggling out of my joggers, and I’m naked before he’s even unfastened a button of his own.
I’m the one who slides his shirt from his body, discovering his tan, muscular shoulders and chest, and rolling abs dusted lightly with just a little soft brown hair. He’s radiating so much warmth I get the urge to press my face against him and nuzzle against his gorgeous body, but I have more to unwrap.
His belt is harder to undo so he helps me, dropping his jeans and pulling his socks from his feet. Only his tight black boxer briefs remain between us, but they leave very little to the imagination.
Before I get a chance to remove the final layer, he scoops me under my ass, lifting me from my feet, a small foil packet crinkling in his grip. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, laughing brightly as he kisses between my breasts.
“You’re sweet as pie,” he murmurs.
“Which pie?”
“Peach pie. My favorite.”
I make a mental note to bake him one as soon as I have a minute in the kitchen. I expect him to drop me onto the bed, but instead, he strides to the wall, pushing my back against the cool plaster.
He holds me like I weigh nothing, all the bales of hay he’s moved over the years solidifying his strength. His mouth is hot on my nipple, and he sucks hungrily, moaning as I arch my back.
I shift my hips against the bar of his cock, seeking friction. Before I can catch my breath, he shoves down his underwear, quickly wraps himself, and notches in just the right place, braced and ready to enter me. I’m slick, but he’s big. Eye to eye, we both breathe fast, anticipation fluttering my heart.
“You ready for me?”
“Yes.” It’s a lie. I’m not ready for anything that’s happening in my life. I’m a tumbleweed, drifting on the wind, a plastic bottle swept from the shore, buffeted by the waves for eternity.
He pushes in just a little, and it burns. My body isn’t used to so much sex, and Clint and Jesse were both big enough to leave a tinge of soreness.
“Okay?”
“It hurts,” I admit.
Maverick lowers his eyes and shifts so he pulls back.
“No,” I tell him. “Don’t stop. Just go slow.”
He searches my face for confirmation of my words.
“I’ll give you an inch at a time,” he says. “Count with me. And if it gets too much and you want to stop, we can… at any time.”
“Okay.”
He pushes his thumb into my mouth and then presses the wet pad over my clit. We both focus between our bodies where we’re joined, and he’s touching me.
“One,” he says. With slow circles, he teases heat between my legs. Then he pushes in a little more. “Two.” He kisses my mouth, sliding his tongue across mine as we wait for my body to open.
“Three.” The stretch burns again, but behind the pain is an ache of pleasure.
“Four.”
I arch my back and tip my face to the ceiling, breathing through as my body spreads to accommodate him.
His big, rough palm clasps my exposed throat, holding me in place.
“Five.”
I’m trembling, desperate for him to force everything inside me.
“Six.”
Oh god. How many more? I know I can take it. He’s made me wet with his teasing thumb and gravelly voice, and the pain has shifted to a hot throb that craves more.
“Seven.”
“Oh,” I gasp. He’s so thick. I want to look between us, but he’s holding me tightly with just a little pressure against my throat. My head spins.
“Eight.”
Surely that’s it. Is he in all the way? I’m impaled. Open. Owned.
“Nine.”
“Maverick…” There’s a gasp of fear in my voice, and he lets go of my throat, pressing his whole body against mine.
“You’re so tight,” he growls.
“You’re so big.”
When he moves, I start to doubt if I can take it. His hips draw back and then push forward, grinding against my sensitized clit. My pussy feels heavy and achy. The ridge around the head of his cock eases over somewhere inside me that makes my toes curl. I don’t understand how he’s doing this and holding me. His strength and control seem almost inhuman, but I’m not going to complain because in his arms, I feel important and necessary. I feel desired and claimed. I feel like I exist.
“Taylor.” Maverick grips my jaw, as his warm, hazel eyes darken. He kisses me hard, pressing even deeper inside me, his hips thrusting so hard that my back slaps against the plaster rhythmically.
“Maverick,” I whisper.
“That’s it. Say my name. Say my name when you come.”
The same feeling that built between my legs with Clint and Jesse threatens to spill. With them, I’d closed my eyes before slipping into the mist of pleasure, but Maverick demands my attention.
“Oh… oh…”
He thrusts harder as I gasp and grind into him, so close I can almost taste the honey of bliss on my tongue.
“That’s it. Give it to me. Give it all to me.”
And I do. “Maverick,” I shout, going rigid and then limp as warm pleasure radiates from my core into my mind and my limbs.
He doesn’t slow, but instead, he speeds up, thrusting into me so powerfully that my legs rise until I’m almost folded in two. When he comes, his face loses its intense expression. There’s no safe and engaging smile, either. He’s lost in his release, lips thin, cheeks pinched, eyes tightly scrunched.
Watching him come apart because of me is a gift. Mindy said a lot of things about me today, but she was wrong. Maverick wanted me. This wasn’t a pity screw. It was something deeper. A recognition of a connection and an effort to claim his place in Jesse’s arrangement. It was inevitable, but it didn’t feel awkward. Like the tide edges forward, Maverick and I were swept away.
My body feels cramped and sore, but I wait for Maverick to move. I give him his time to dwell in the peace that settles.
“Taylor,” he whispers. “You rock my goddamn world.”
Even with a curse, his words inspire hope to bloom like wildflowers around my heart.
But wildflowers don’t last long before they wither and die.
As he kisses me, I remind myself that my life with these three cowboys is built on shaky ground.
Finding sweetness and hope is dangerous.
Not just for me, but for Molly, too.