Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
MAVERICK
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those hide-with-’em-and-leave-’em girls,” I murmur.
Mia startles at my words, jaw dropping, overnight bag clutched guiltily in her hand. I don’t know if she’s more shocked by my presence or my sudden wordiness.
“I—I—” She stands there awkwardly, eyes round, unmoving.
I step out of the house’s afternoon shadow, hands on my hips, dust rising beneath my boots. She went out a window to avoid the front door … and me.
“Don’t let me keep you.”
I deliver it slow. Ironic.
She leans back on her heels like I’ve just slapped her.
Folding my arms over my chest, I narrow my eyes. “See, the thing is, it’s easier to protect you if I know where you’re at.”
Her cheeks flush.
“And this is my first gig. I’d like to keep my job.”
Her breath stutters. “I didn’t think about that.”
I wait, not needing to crowd words into the space between us.
“It’s just…” Her eyes drop to the ground. She studies the rust-colored dirt punctuated by bluestem grass like it holds all the answers.
“Mia, talk to me.” The words come out more forcefully than I mean them to.
Her expression cracks, anger rushing in. “But I did talk to you. Told you about Edwin. The guardianship.” Her face is as red as the earth beneath her feet as her voice gains steam. “And you had nothing to say. Like usual.”
“Only speak when my words hold power.”
She bites her bottom lip, forehead creasing. God, she’s beautiful when she’s angry—face radiating passion, heat pouring off her body. A force to be reckoned with.
“What are you staring at?” she asks breathlessly.
“You,” I answer before my brain has time to catch up. My body’s a live wire—awake, hungry.
Stop it, Holt.
“You look at me like you see the real person inside, not the celebrity everyone wants me to be.”
I step forward. “Never much cared about fame. It’ll break you as easy as it makes you.”
“And what do you know about fame?” she asks, tilting up her chin.
I shrug, not ready for this conversation. Not sure I ever will be. I run a hand over my beard, calloused skin scratching across wiry whiskers. “I know it’ll catch back up with you … if you leave now.”
“But I can’t take this anymore.” Her voice quivers, low and raw. “I can call an Uber.”
“Can’t take what?”
“Can’t take being out of control. Helpless. If I don’t run now, I may never get this chance again.”
“True,” I say, slow and easy.
“God, you’re frustrating to talk to. Do you know that?”
“Been told that a time or two.”
She shifts her feet, raising a cloud of scarlet dust motes that float and linger around her—kissing her blushing skin, dancing over her curves. My throat tightens, body aching, though I order it to stop.
“What if running means they still control you?”
“You know who you remind me of? My therapist. Never saying much of anything, though you still charge by the hour.”
I chuckle, surprised by the unexpected observation. “I’m paid to protect. Not provide therapy.”
“Well, go on break then. Quit working and talk to me like a fellow human being, not a…” Her mouth twitches as she searches for the word.
“Not a handler?”
“That’s it,” she says, pointing at me, letting her guard down for one moment.
“Shoot.”
Mia drops the bag in the dust. Burgundy clouds snake around her.
“I don’t want to feel like a slave in my own life. Like I have no say, no future. Like this tiny respite is asking too much.”
I nod, working hard to keep my face unreadable. She needs a punching bag right now. I can be that for her. I widen my stance slightly, waiting for the next verbal blow.
“I don’t want to feel like my only value is what I can do for others.
How I can make them money. How I can sell my soul, who I am, to keep others financially afloat.
No, financially winning.” She shakes her head, looking at the toes of her light tan cowboy boots where they touch the hem of her long mint floral sundress. “I don’t want to be a cash cow.”
“But the guardianship…” I narrow my gaze, taking in her stunning face, the subtle shift in muscles and movements that tells me she’s close to breaking down. “That makes everything much trickier.”
Her mouth twists for a moment, like she wants to speak but can’t find the words. God help me, I can’t help but drop my gaze to those plump, pink lips. Let my mind wander off for a moment to how she might taste.
Green eyes snap to mine, and she’s caught me. Her cheeks flush again, but not from anger. The corners of her mouth turn up slightly, and a mischievous look captures her face. But her voice comes out steady, pained. “What if a part of me wishes the stalker had done a better job last night?”
Her words knock the air clean out of me.
“Is that wrong of me?” She knits her brow.
Anger burns hot inside, making Texas midday downright broiling. “Makes those who have made you feel this way wrong, I’d reckon.”
“And if you were in my situation, what would you do?”
The question hits closer to home than I’m willing to admit.
Suddenly, a tight laugh escapes her lips. She pinches the bridge of her nose, sinking her head.
“What?”
“It’s nothing…”
I wait, shifting uneasily.
“It’s just … for a moment I thought of you singing, dancing, shaking it on stage like I have to…”
“And?” I ask, stuck between a laugh and a grimace.
“Well, I can’t imagine…” She eyes me for a long moment. “No way.”
“You point me in a line, I can dance,” I counter too quickly. It’s not like I care what she thinks. Not like she should either.
“So, you can dance like you’re in Roadhouse or something?”
“Something like that,” I concede, flexing my jaw.
The air hangs heavy as the heat between us. Can’t blame all of it on the sun-baked clay.
“Lemonade? Sweet tea?” I offer, heading toward the front door.
Mia hesitates, eyes sliding over my backside so that when I turn, she’s crimson this time. Satisfaction pricks, though I don’t care to think about why.
“That limp. Is it an injury, or did you just sleep wrong?” She cocks her head, concern washing across her face. It’s beautiful.
Like every damn thing about her.
“Maybe I’ll tell you about it…”
She quirks her mouth.
“One of these times you tell me I’m off duty.”
Then, I slide through the screen door without looking back, trusting she’ll follow behind.