Chapter 7
7
MAVERICK
H ow can I be this frustrated, this turned on, and this speechless? I talk for a living. I can argue and contort the facts like a motherfucker to suit me, yet this woman has my brain turning to mush.
All thanks to a touch.
No way will I let this go. I thought I could. I really did. I want a woman, but realistically, I don't have time for all these complications. And Cadence is a big complication. It's not that she works for me. I don't have a problem with that. No, the complication is the fact that she does see it as an issue.
Most nights I'm up until midnight, sometimes later. And I'm back at the office by eight. My life is busy, and I'll admit that I have too many demands on my time. I don't need more complications. I need a sweet, understanding woman who is happy to spend a lot of time on her own.
As soon as I think it, I realize I'm kidding myself. I don't want that kind of relationship. The kind where I barely see my partner and come home to polite sex before rolling over and ignoring each other for the rest of the night. I want to be obsessed with my woman, craving her, thinking about her all the time.
Cadence could be that for me. Hell, screw 'could be', she is. I'm heading to forty, and I've never felt this kind of pull for a woman.
And it's not like I haven't met plenty of women. I've dated, I've fucked around, I've flirted with women in clubs and at work.
It was fun. But none of it came even close to what I'm feeling now.
This obsessive focus is a lot.
The streetlights flick on, lighting up the space between us. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer. Fuck Nick's plan. Fuck slow and easy. I'm not waiting another second to make my intentions clear.
I take a deep breath, ready to lay it all out there. "Cadence, I need you to know that I would never?—"
Before I can finish, Terry squats down right between us and takes a massive dump on the pavement. The little bastard has impeccable timing.
Cadence chuckles, completely unfazed. She pulls a little sheet of plastic off the roll and hands it to me, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Your turn, boss."
I stare at the small rectangle of plastic in my hand, then at the steaming pile of shit. I've never had a dog. I've never picked up poop with my bare hands. Not on purpose, anyway. But I'll be damned if I back down now, not in front of her.
I crouch down, trying to figure out the best angle of attack. I make a few awkward attempts, the plastic flapping uselessly in the breeze. The smell is enough to make my eyes water.
Cadence clears her throat. "You might want to open it."
Open it? Wha– "Right. I knew that." It takes some work, but eventually that sucker pops open, and I slide my hand inside. Trying not to breathe, I reach down and manage to get my fingers around the shit. But I'm not prepared for the warmth. It's like holding a freshly baked turd muffin. Instinctively, I chuck it, needing it out of my hand immediately. The shit sails through the air and splats against a nearby light post, leaving a streak of brown. I'm left standing there, the poopy bag still on my hand.
I gag, my stomach doing somersaults. That was so much worse than I expected. Meanwhile, Cadence is bent over, howling with laughter. Tears stream down her face as she clutches her stomach.
"Oh my god," she gasps between fits of giggles. "The look on your face!"
I straighten up, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. "I meant to do that."
She snorts. "Sure you did, hotshot."
It bubbles up, the embarrassment morphing into something not unexpected, but still so uncool. I giggle. Then instinctively go to slap my hand over my mouth, and nearly slap myself with the poopy bag, gag, then I giggle again in relief at the near miss.
Ever since I can remember, I've gotten stuck in this spiral. As a kid, it would happen when someone hurt themselves, or the girls at the club would kiss me on the cheek. The giggles would start, then I'd get anxious about the giggles, and more would start.
I learned how to manage it as I got older. It's not like I'll have a giggle fit at a funeral…wait, it depends on what kind of funeral. A clown funeral, with everyone showing up in full clown makeup? That would do it. Especially if the deceased was buried in his clown shoes and they had to custom make the casket just to fit the fucking shoes.
Oh hell. Here I go. My other curse? A goofy sense of humor that kicks in at the worst possible moment.
I try to hold them in. Turning my back, holding the hand with the bag straight in front of me, I breathe, trying to calm myself down.
"I've never seen anyone throw poop like that. It's damned uncivilized of you. It's okay though. I won't tell anyone." Her laughter breaks again on the last words, and I tighten all my stomach muscles, trying to calm myself down.
I want to date this woman. Thinking I'm a shit throwing immature asshole is not going to give her the impression I'm looking for. When I finally have it together, I turn around and meet those shining eyes.
"I'm sorry about that. I didn't…I wasn't….it's just, it was warm," I stutter out.
She snorts, and props her hand on her rounded hip. "Yep. Body temperature, since you know, it was just…inside."
"Right. That logic is logical."
Her grin grows as she trails her eyes along my face, then slowly it fades into something else. Something I would like to think is longing. She sighs and shakes her head minutely.
"I'll get it." She turns and heads for the lamppost, and I rush over there, tugging the dog after me. Luckily, he seems thrilled to go to the post, lifting his leg and peeing on all sides of the post.
"Aw, fuck," I mutter, staring down at the urine-covered poop.
Cadence chokes, but doesn't laugh, and like it's no big deal, reaches down and scoops up the poop. I'm simultaneously impressed that she handles the problem so easily, and okay, a little grossed out, too. There's a little embarrassment in there as well, but I'm going to shove that shit down.
"I take it you never had a dog?" she asks, casually tying off the bag and letting it dangle from her fingertips as she turns and begins the walk back to the squat building in the distance.
I scoop up Terry, making sure to keep his ass end far away from me, hold the hand with the poop bag on it far away from me, and jog to catch up. "No, I didn't have any pets."
"Allergies?"
"No. Nothing like that. I asked a few times, but we couldn't afford it. My mom didn't have the time or the energy to take care of anyone but me."
She hums, staring ahead. "I lived with my grandparents. I had lots of animals."
"It's nice they let you."
"Yeah, it is. They let me bring home every animal I found. Most of them were released or sent back to their owners, but a few stuck around."
"I can picture it. Little blonde headed Cadence nursing raccoons back to health."
She grins at me, tossing her head. "Dirty brown-headed. I've only been a blonde for a few weeks."
I peer at the top of her head, trying to spot the roots. "Oh, right. I see. Maybe that's why I didn't recognize you when I saw you at the club last week."
"Yeah, that's why. It has nothing to do with the copious amounts of liquor you consumed before you came to my rescue the first time."
"Ah, right. That might have something to do with it. In my defense, we were celebrating." Colton's excitement over convincing his brother John to apply for parole was infectious. So we cracked a bottle. Or four. "Why did you change your hair?" Her hair could be grey, and it would still be fucking stunning. Terry squirms and I put him down, leaving him to sniff anything he wants.
"Trixie gave me a little tip. She told me blondes with wild hair get bigger tips. The wild hair part I had, the blonde was an easy enough investment to make after the first few shifts. I gotta hand it to you, boss. Your customers are great tippers and from what Trixie says, that's thanks to you."
I shrug and carefully peel the bag off my hand and tie it in a knot. That hand still feels wrong. I need to bleach it before I even think of touching anything or anyone.
"When we cleaned it up, we were able to attract a different clientele. Beautiful women, good food, strong drinks. That's the magic formula."
"And the fact that a man as wealthy as you are owns it? Or that a bunch of billionaires hang out there? That doesn't have anything to do with it?"
"Coincidence."
She snorts adorably. "Sure it was."
We're almost back. Nick and Bree wave at us from the back door, and I panic. I'm not ready to walk away from her yet. I didn't get enough time. I need more.
Pushing the gate closed behind us, I make my move. "So we're all grabbing some food next. I thought you might want to come with us?"
She pauses, hands on the padlock on the gate. Snapping it shut, she gives me a look. "I don't think I can, I…"
"I'm buying," Nick says, winking and throwing an arm around Bree's shoulders. "You work too hard Cady. You need a break."
Cady . I like that. It suits her. I nod and mentally will her to accept Nick's offer. I get her not wanting to spend money, especially if things are as tight as everyone's saying, but I need her to come.
"My Nan's supposed to be back soon, and we usually eat together."
"Why doesn't she come? Where is she?" Bree asks.
I love Bree.
Cady unclips the dogs, puts them in their little rooms, and hangs up the leashes. I don't know where the bag of poop is, but it doesn't matter. She moves to that little kitchen area, and washes up. I follow, tucking myself next to her, but not close it would be creepy. When she arches an eyebrow at me, I lean over and pump some soap into my hands too.
"You should come. We'll go somewhere casual. And your…Nan would be more than welcome."
"She's at the community center. But she's supposed to meet me here."
She rinses the soap off and steps back. I finish scrubbing and rinse too, turning to face her, holding my hands in front of me like a doctor going into a surgery.
"We can wait for her."
"You guys don't really want to go to dinner with my grandma, do you? Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Better than having dinner with a smart, kind hearted, generous woman and the grandma that raised her? No, I can't think of anything better than that."
She stares at me, mouth open and I take a little satisfaction in stunning her.
She clears her throat and opens a cupboard, wiping her hands on a clean rag, then passes it to me. I do the same, then carefully drape it over the tap.
"You have many dinners with seventy-year-old women?"
"Nick's other girlfriend is pushing eighty. I crash their dates once in a while."
Her eyes dart to Nick and Bree where they're leaning on the wall, teasing each other. "Other girlfriend?"
"It's pretty serious," Nick says, eyes dancing. "She has the best cookies."
"You guys are not at all what I expected," she says, grinning.
Nick laughs. "We get that a lot."
"I bet you do."
Cadence tries to make a few more excuses, but before she can get them out, the door opens and an older woman walks in. She's got silver hair cut short, sort of like Julia Roberts when she played Tinkberbell in that movie. Her bright blue eyes are sharp and assessing as they move over the group of us.
Bree grins and waves. "Hi, Tess."
Nick steps forward, his most charming smile plastered across his face. "Well hello there. I'm Nick, and you must be Cadence's grandmother."
The woman arches an eyebrow at him, her lips twitching. "And you must be trouble."
Nick laughs, his head tipping back. "Oh, I like you. Tess, is it? We were just trying to convince your granddaughter to join us for dinner. We'd love for you to come too. Cadence mentioned the two of you normally eat together. It's great that you're so close."
Tess looks over at Cadence, her eyes narrowing. "Is that so? Well, that's awfully kind of you to offer, but I ate at the center. Salisbury steak night. Can't miss that."
She moves over to Cadence, reaching out to cup her elbow. "You should go though. You work too hard. A night out with friends will do you good."
Cadence leans in, whispering something in her ear. Tess whispers back, then pulls away, patting Cadence's arm. "I've got it handled. The dogs will be fine. Go, have fun. But not too much fun, you hear?"
She looks over at Nick and me, her gaze assessing. "And who are you, young man?"
I step forward, conscious of my size. Cady's Nan comes across as a spitfire, but there's also an air of fragility about her. She offers her hand, and surprises me with a strong handshake.
"My name is Maverick, ma'am."
She laughs and shakes her head. "Of course you are. Your mother must be an interesting woman to saddle you with that name."
"She was. She was the best. And she loved that movie."
"What's not to love," Tess murmurs, eyes turning soft as they run over my face. "I think she chose well. It suits you."
Stepping back, she claps her hands, and makes a shooing motion. "Off you go love. Go have fun." She turns to me. "I'm trusting you boys to take care of my girl. Have her home by midnight, you hear?"
I nod solemnly. "Yes ma'am. You have my word."
Tess snorts. "Ma'am. Can't decide if I like that. Go on with you."
Cadence hesitates, looking between her grandmother and us. Finally, she sighs. "Okay, fine. I'll go. But I'm not staying out late."
Bree claps her hands together. "Yay! This is going to be so much fun. Come on, let's go before she changes her mind."
I gesture for Cadence to go ahead of me, trying to hide my grin. I can't believe she actually agreed. And on the way out the door, I send her grandma a wink, getting one in return.
I like her.