Chapter 8
8
CADENCE
M y leg bounces under the table as I glance around the bustling Thai restaurant. The worn booths and faded decor remind me of the countless hole-in-the-wall joints I've frequented over the years. It's not the kind of place I would expect guys this rich to eat, but I'm glad. It's comfortable, and judging by how busy it is, we're in for a good meal.
Nick and Bree sit across from me, their shoulders brushing as they pour over the menu, happily arguing about what to order. Smiles wreath both their faces, their bodies leaning into one another. They are freaking adorable together, just completely comfortable in each other's company.
And then there's Maverick, his presence both comforting and unnerving beside me. I can't help but steal glances at him, my heart racing each time our eyes meet. I did not think this through. Of course Nick and Bree would want to sit together. Of course I'd end up sitting next to Mav.
I try to focus on the menu, but my mind keeps drifting back to Nan. Is she okay? Did she remember to lock the doors? I wish I could afford a better security system, something to ease the constant worry gnawing at my gut. It's not like our old neighborhood. There's no one around in that area of town at night. What if she needs help?
I tug my phone out of my pocket and text her under the table.
You okay?
Thankfully, I don't have to wait long for her reply.
I’m watching my shows. Stop worrying. Flirt with that sexy man.
"Hey," Maverick's deep voice pulls me from my phone. “Everything okay?"
I shove my phone back into my pocket. "Yeah, just checking on Nan."
He nods, concern washing over his face. "Is she okay? Should we go help her out? What does she have to do there tonight?"
His worries settle mine. "Yes, she's okay. There's a little TV in my office. She'll play with the dogs for a while, then hang out in there till I get back."
"I can arrange a driver for her so she can go home." He pulls his phone out, and I cover it with my hand. She is home. But obviously I'm not going to tell him that.
"She's okay. I promise. I just offered to head back, and she told me to go stuff myself. If I head back now, I'll never hear the end of it."
"She's tough."
"You have no idea." The woman is granite. Every blow she's been dealt she pushes through, somehow always finding some silver thread to hold onto.
"Sounds like there's a lot more to that story. Care to share?"
Do I care to share? With him? Yeah. "She was sick for a while. It was…bad."
His lips tighten. "Cancer?"
"Yeah," I answer softly. "It was…horrible. I almost lost her." I breathe out, pushing with it all of my anxiety and worry. "She's healthy now, so I try not to let myself dive into the worry, but…" I trail off, unable to speak the scary thoughts. But as though he's reading my mind, he speaks.
"But what if it comes back? What if the treatment doesn't work. What if you lose her."
Maybe it's a trick of the light that makes his eyes glitter with emotion, with pain.
Maybe it isn't.
"You lost someone," I say quietly, dropping the menu to the table, and turning my chest toward him. The moment is quiet, intimate. "Who?" It's not my business. I know it isn't. But I'm asking anyway.
He sighs, turning his body to me, and rests his elbow on the table, cocooning us in. "My mom. Not that way. Not cancer. But I understand the loss."
He nods, jaw tight. "It was a long time ago."
"But it doesn't feel that way, does it?"
"I still remember the way her nails felt, running through my hair at bedtime. And the way her skin smelled when she hugged me. I was eight. I remember all of her. Or I used to."
Unable to resist, I rub my thumb over his jaw. "Some of it fades. But you won't lose her completely. I firmly believe that. And it helps to talk about them."
He scowls, searching my face. "Who did you lose?"
"Grandpa. Almost ten years ago."
Sighing, he cups my cheek making us look like some romantic painting, bodies close, hands cupping one another's faces.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Me too."
The silence across the table finally registers, and I turn to find Bree and Nick both looking at us wide eyed.
"Um, hey," Bree says. "You guys need more time to order?"
I pull away, running my hands along my hair nervously. "Sorry. Yeah, um, I just need a second." Staring blankly at the menu, I will my mind to settle, trying to pretend that the most intimate, intense conversation I've ever had with a man didn't just happen.
Nick clears his throat. "Why don't we just order a bunch of stuff and eat family style?"
I nod, relieved, and slap the menu shut, then with more effort than it should have taken, ignore the man next to me and attempt small talk.
"So how's work going, Bree?"
The conversation drifts from work to weekend plans to TV shows. It's easy and comfortable with Bree and Nick.
But Maverick is a quiet wall of heat beside me, nodding or grunting an answer when required, but otherwise seeming to be in his own head. And as much as I enjoy Nick and Bree, and the way they look at each other, I'd be okay if they disappeared and left me alone with Mr. Dark and Broody.
He's my boss, I remind myself for the hundredth time. But it's getting harder and harder to remember that when he keeps showing me the man underneath the suit. The man who understands loss in a profoundly real way. You don't feel that kind of loss without having loved deeply.
I want to curl up in a corner with him, and just talk. To learn about his mother. To learn everything.
But I won't.
Getting closer to the man who could set me back financially is not the smart move, and I'm a very smart woman. I have to be. I'm all Nan has left and she's my priority.
The food arrives, breaking the moment between us. I focus on filling my plate, ignoring the slight tremble in my hands. I'm sitting next to pure temptation, so of course I have the wobbles. It's natural and normal. I don't have to make a big deal out of it.
The conversation flows easily after that, Nick and Bree providing most of the chatter. I find myself relaxing, laughing at their stories. They have this way of arguing with each other that feels warm and gentle. Like they're enjoying themselves, just being together, and the teasing is icing on the cake.
Through it all, I'm acutely aware of Maverick beside me, his presence like a gravitational pull.
As the meal wraps up, I glance at my phone, shocked at how late it is. "I should really get back," I say, reaching for my purse. "I don't want to be too late for Nan."
Nick and Bree exchange a look. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for dessert? I'm craving a little something sweet," Bree says.
Oh, the places my brain takes that. "Oh, well, I don't think…"
"I can give you a ride," Maverick offers, his voice low and smooth.
I hesitate, knowing I should refuse. The extra half hour isn't that big a deal I guess, but still, it's Nan. It would be smarter to wait for Nick and Bree. But the thought of spending more time with Maverick, even just a few minutes in the car, is too tempting to resist. "Okay," I agree, hoping I don't regret it.
The ride back to the rescue is quiet at first, the silence between us awkward. But not like we're strangers awkward. More like, we're two people ignoring a big sexy elephant in the car. I fidget with my purse, stealing glances at Maverick's profile, the streetlights casting shadows across his face.
Normally, I don't have a problem with awkward. It's not that I don't feel it sometimes, but usually I can let it wash away pretty easily. Tonight, I'm struggling. "You've been quiet tonight. Is everything okay?" I finally ask.
He winces, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry. Our conversation earlier, it just...it brought up a lot of memories of my mom. I didn't mean to be so distant."
My heart clenches at the vulnerability in his voice. "I understand," I say softly. "Losing someone you love, it stays with you. It changes you."
He nods, his jaw tight. "It does. I was so young when she died. But still, thirty years later, it still feels like yesterday."
"I know what you mean," I murmur, thinking of Pops. "But I like to think that they're still with us, in a way. That their love never really leaves us."
Maverick's phone chimes a few times, but he ignores it, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. We talk quietly for the rest of the drive, sharing little memories of our loved ones. The whole time, I feel like a fish on his hook, getting reeled in without a fight. Just a 'take me I'm yours' attitude. Is he doing it on purpose, or is this just his natural charisma? Either way, I should create distance, I know that. I'm way too attracted, and I don't have a great track record of denying temptation. I'm the kind of girl who sees a ride she wants to ride, and hops right on. This denying yourself shit sucks.
But this time, I have to.
As we pull up to the rescue, just for a second, I consider asking him to just keep driving, not wanting our time together to end. Maverick walks me to the front door, his hand warm on the small of my back. God, why does he have to be a gentleman? It was hard enough to resist him before.
For a moment, we just stand there, the air between us electric with possibility. His eyes flick down to my lips, and his low groan fills the air between us. The smart thing would be to walk away. To stop staring at his mouth, wondering if his lips would be as soft as they look. To stop thinking about tugging that shirt over his head.
But he doesn't look like he's going to back up, to step away. And my hormones are in complete control now. You want to kiss sexy man? Hell yeah they're screaming.
His phone rings, shattering the spell. I jerk back, my face flushing with embarrassment. "You should get that," I mumble, fumbling for my keys. "Thanks for the ride."
With jerky movements, he pulls the phone out of his back pocket. The scowl on his face turns to remorse. He nods and takes a step back. "Anytime," he says, his voice rough. "Goodnight, Cadence."
I wave goodbye, my heart racing as I slip inside, leaning against the door as I try to catch my breath.
"You should have kissed him," Nan mutters from the dark corner.
"Jesus Fuck!" I slide down the door and press my cheek to the floor, praying my heart doesn't pound straight out of my chest. Nan cackles, shuffling over and leaning down to pat my head.
"You're too jumpy. So why didn't you kiss him? He looks tasty."
"Nan!"
"Oh please, it's not like I'm dead. I might be in my seventies, but my parts still work. Your grandpa and I had a wonderful sex life, nearly right until he passed, bless his soul."
I moan, and close my eyes, willing images of my grandparents fucking to dissipate. "That's just wrong."
"Prude," Nan says with a sniff.
"I am not a prude. I am rightfully traumatized!"
"Whatever. I bet you would have kissed him, if you weren't such a prude."
"I'm being bullied by my own grandmother." I stare at the brown streak on the concrete floor in front of me. Probably poop. I should fire my cleaner.
Laughing, because of course I'm the cleaner, I push myself off the floor. "He's my boss Nan. If he weren't, you'd be hearing things that would make even you blush."
"Your boss huh? At that sexy club you work at?"
"He owns it."
She sobers. "That's too bad."
Kind of wishing she would tell me it doesn't matter, that I should follow my bliss…okay, not bliss, ovaries, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the back, and the little room we've called home for the last few months. "Yeah, it really is. If I had met that man before…wait. I did meet him. But I mean, if I'd had just a little one on one with him before all this happened, I would be hauling out my best bras and putting the girls to work."
"What do you mean you met him? If you met him before, doesn't that trump him being your boss?"
If only. "It doesn't count. He and all of his brothers descended on this place. They were drunk - happy drunk thankfully - and were all over the place." I giggle a little, images of them rampaging through my place flashing through my mind. "You should have seen it Nan. Imagine it. A whole bunch of billionaires running around like demented toddlers. Everywhere I looked was foolishness."
Nan snorts out a laugh, and plops back onto the cot. "That's why you didn't really pay attention to that big handsome man?"
"Yep. There were too many big, handsome men to keep track of."
"Yep, that'll do it." Kicking off her slippers, she snuggles herself into her blankets, absently running her hand over the brightly colored patchwork of the blanket. It's the same one I remember being on her and Grandpa's bed my whole life. That home was everything to me. My safety, my security. It was the place that I knew I was always accepted, always loved.
Always protected.
Though I guess it's not really that house that gave me that. It was the people inside it. Now all that sense of security is resting on Nan's frail shoulders. Not fair maybe, but that's the way it is.
"We'll get it back Nan."
"Get what back honey?" she asks, through a yawn.
"Everything. I'll give you a home. I promise." I will. I have no doubts. We're in a rough patch, but it's temporary. That's why I'm happy to keep paying the bill on that little storage unit. When we get a new place, Nan will have at least some of the things she loves around her again.
"You are my home, love. As long as I have you, I don't need anything else." She rolls over, sighing into her pillow. "Though a bigger bed would be nice."
I unroll the camping mat, and press the little built in foot pump until it's puffed up to a whopping inch thick. When I bought this thing for a miserable camping trip with a not so miserable boyfriend years ago, I never imagined sleeping on it every night. It's not comfortable, but it's better than the floor.
"Agreed Nan. A bigger bed will be wonderful."
Not too much longer. Soon, I'll have the last of the small bills paid off, and I can start saving up for the apartment. A couple more months.
Totally doable.