Chapter 9
Maverick
“Damn it,” I muttered as I turned down my block and saw Damon’s monster truck in our driveway. “If that man has taken up all the space and I have to lug all these groceries in from the street…”
I’d hoped to beat him back to our place, but Mom was coming for dinner and I’d put off shopping too long.
I slowed, preparing to pull over at the curb when I saw to my surprise, Damon had actually parked fully on his side.
Huh. About time.
I whipped the car into the drive and put it in park. The Meat Market had been swamped with after-work shoppers, so I was running late. I hopped out and popped the trunk, loading up with as many bags as I could carry.
I shopped with re-usable fabric tote bags, which was good for the environment. But less helpful to me when I was trying to carry a lot at once. I picked up two bags with each hand and reached for a third, picking it up with the tips of my straining fingers.
“You eating for two now?”
I jumped, the bag slipping from my grip.
Damon caught it before it hit the ground. “Damn, man, what’s in here?” He hefted it up and down. “Maybe you’re eating for twenty.”
I rolled my eyes and decided I’d have to make two trips to get all the groceries. “You’re hilarious. My mom is coming over for dinner.”
Damon reached past me to snag the last two remaining totes. I watched him, a little afraid of what he might do, but dumping my groceries all over the driveway wasn’t really his style. He liked to get…creative with his pranks.
Like the matchmaking business. I still wasn’t sure why I was playing along. If it was only to show Damon his prank didn’t get to me, I could stop now. But Lula had called me to tell me they had another date arranged for me and I’d agreed without missing a beat.
“Is Shayla coming too?” Damon asked.
“Stay far away from my little sister or I will gut you like a rotten fish.”
Damon followed me up the porch, still carrying my groceries like some kind of southern gentleman. “Does the fish have to be rotten?” he asked. “I’m more of a flashy trophy fish that you hang on your wall to show off to all your friends.”
I cut him a glance to see a sexy grin on his face. Such a cocky bastard.
“If you get with my sister, you are rotten,” I said emphatically.
He smirked. “Sis is off-limits. I got it.”
I fumbled to get my key in the lock while holding two bags of groceries. “I’m serious, Damon. Do not fuck around—”
“Whoa, okay.” Damon relieved me of a bag, freeing up my right hand so I could stab the key into the lock and twist it. “I was just shit talking.”
“That’s all you ever do.”
I shoved the door open and stepped inside. I expected Damon to hand off the groceries, but he followed me in. When I hesitated, he stepped right past me, heading for the kitchen. Okay. Apparently, this was a full-service delivery.
He sat my groceries on the counter and turned to me with a more serious expression. “I would never fuck around with your sister, Mav. I was kidding.”
“Oh.”
“She’s a little young for me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe cut me a little slack. I may be a dick, but I’m not a creep.”
Well, that was fair. In all of our pranking, he’d never actually hurt me.
Or even really done much more than annoy the shit out of me.
He didn’t have the best track record with relationships, but he wasn’t a player.
He’d had a live-in girlfriend before he moved next door to torment me. That had to be pretty serious.
I hadn’t really seen him date much since then. But he also didn’t bring hookups home that I’d noticed. Hmm. Curious.
Could Damon be an actual, sensitive guy and I’d missed it in all of our neighborly battles?
“I just came over in hopes of scoring a free meal if your mom is cooking,” Damon said. “I’ve got an empty fridge and I’m running low on pizza funds.”
“I’m making dinner.”
“Ah. Well, never mind.”
I shoved him with a laugh. “Get out of here, asshole. I’m a good cook.”
“Yeah?” He gave me a challenging grin. “Prove it.”
“Uh-uh. You’re not tricking me into making you dinner every night.” I wrapped a hand around his arm and tugged him toward the door.
Or I would have if he’d moved.
The man’s arm was like steel under my fingers, and when I pulled, he didn’t budge. He smirked at me as I tried to move him.
“Did you want something?”
“Will you please leave so I can start cooking? I’m already running late.”
“All you had to do was ask.” He started toward the door, and I really should have dropped my hand from his arm, but I didn’t. I walked him out, hand encircling his biceps. When we reached my door, he glanced down at my hand, still latched onto him.
“Mav, I know I’m hot and all, but you’ve really got to stop trying to feel me up.”
I jerked my hand away. “I wasn’t doing that!”
Or maybe I was…but just a little. And not on purpose. The man just had so many muscles, and they were so nice to touch.
He gave me another cocky grin. “Like I said, I’m a trophy fish.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I said flatly. “I’m not going to mount you.”
He choked on a laugh. “Damn, you really went there, huh? Dream on, babe. I’m not up for grabs, and if I was, I’d be doing all the mounting.”
“Of course you would,” I said dryly.
“Why are you saying it like that?” he asked, seeming a little taken aback.
I leaned in, murmuring softly. “Because that’s what all the straight boys say before they find out how fucking incredible it feels to have a dick in their ass.”
His eyes shot wide, red crawling up his neck. “Jesus, Mav!”
Yeah, I should probably end this conversation before Damon decided to deck me. I was playing with fire. His cocky smirk and flirty comments were getting to me. Not to mention what Jory had said about Damon eating me up with his eyes.
But even if there was a small attraction there, it didn’t mean Damon would accept it. In fact, if he wasn’t ready for it and I pushed, I might end up triggering a response that would end badly for both of us.
I raised my hand to his chest and gently pushed him onto my porch. This time, he didn’t resist, allowing me to nudge him outside.
“Thanks for helping me with the groceries.”
“No problem.”
“I’ll, uh, send a plate over for you later,” I said. “As a thank-you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s the least I can do after…” I made you uncomfortable with my gayness. “After you helped me bring everything in.”
He nodded, eyes avoiding mine. “Okay, thanks.”
“But don’t get used to it,” I warned.
He chuckled, relaxing a little, and his gaze finally met mine. “Get used to you being nice to me? Not possible.”
My mom’s car pulled into the drive just then. Dang. I hadn’t even gotten dinner started.
Damon greeted my mom with the sweetest smile before excusing himself next door. I exhaled, feeling as if he’d just taken a pound of tension with him.
“I don’t know why you always complain about your neighbor,” Mom said as she came through the front door. “He’s such a nice young man.”
“Sure. When you’re around.”
“What was he doing here?”
“He helped me carry in the groceries,” I said as I headed back to the kitchen.
“Oh, yes, he’s rotten to the core,” Mom deadpanned.
“Well, sure, he was nice one time,” I grumbled. “And he sidetracked me so that I didn’t even get dinner made.”
Mom wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Oh? Was the gorgeous young man carrying in your groceries a bit distracting?”
I sighed. “Damon is straight, Mom.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I chuckled as I started unloading shrimp, veggies, and rice. A quick, healthy stir-fry shouldn’t take too long to whip up.
Mom joined me at the counter, helping me put away the rest of my groceries.
I hadn’t shopped in a while, so I’d gotten milk, bread, a box of Special K, and some sandwich fixings so I could do a better job of making lunch in the morning.
Right now, I was about fifty/fifty for taking my lunch or having to call out for something.
Luckily, I was on the same block as Glazed Holes, but if I kept eating doughnuts for lunch, I was going to have twice as many cavities at my next dentist appointment.
While I ran the frozen shrimp under the hot water to thaw them slowly, Mom got out a cutting board and sliced up bell peppers and mushrooms. I frowned. The whole point to inviting her over had been to cook for her, not put her to work.
“I can do that,” I said. “Why don’t you have a glass of wine and relax?”
“Oh, this is nothing,” Mom said, waving away my concerns. Her eyes twinkled. “You know, Damon may say he’s straight, but not all boys figure themselves out as young as you did.”
I bit back a groan. I should have known she wouldn’t let that go.
“I know.”
“You loved to play with my makeup when you were little. You loved Chicago and sang along to all the songs.”
“So you’ve said.”
She sliced and diced so quickly and efficiently I’d worry she’d take off a finger if she hadn’t been doing it her whole life. She slid the veggies into the skillet I’d placed on the stove.
“I really thought you’d be a musical theater major.” She smiled. “Dad used to always call you his little star.”
My throat tightened. I hated when Mom got maudlin about Dad. He’d died when I was only six. A blood clot had caused his heart to fail after a routine surgery. The kind of thing that never happened—until, of course, it did.
Apparently, I’d lost my interest in singing and dancing and all those cliche gay boy things after that.
Sometimes, it made Mom really sad. But the truth was, I didn’t even remember those days.
Maybe I’d have grown out of my star phase either way.
I couldn’t carry a decent tune to save my life, so I was probably doing the world’s audiences a favor.
“I can’t believe you don’t even want to do drag,” Mom said aggrievedly.
“Aw, Mom.” I slipped an arm around her shoulders with a little laugh. “I’ve got no talent for it. You know that.”
She sighed. “I guess.”
I squeezed her. “I was just a kid going through a phase.”
“Are you really going to use the phase argument?” she asked, her tone saucy. “Because I could say that maybe the handsome neighbor is just going through a phase as well.”
I laughed. “Yeah, a phase where he loves to drive me crazy.”
“Well, he wouldn’t be the first boy to show his interest by pulling pigtails.”
I shook my head, smiling, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’ve got a one-track mind.”
“Is it so bad I want my only son to find love and be happy?”
“No.” I gave the veggies a stir, then added the shrimp. It would only take a couple of minutes to finish the meal. “But I’ve already signed up with the Matchmaking Mamas. That’s about all the meddling I can take.”
Mom’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I hadn’t heard that!”
“Town gossip has really let you down,” I teased. “I’ve already gone on one date.”
“Ooh, tell me everything!”
I snorted. “Well, there’s nothing to tell. We’re not going out again. But the mamas have another date in store for me this weekend.”
“Oh, with who?”
I opened my mouth to tell her, then realized I didn’t know. “Um. I don’t think I got his name.”
“Oh, a mystery man. Well, that’s fun!”
“Yeah,” I said weakly, wondering if I should call the Mamas back and get more details. But then they’d said my date would pick me up here again, and did it really matter? My only ex who was still single had moved to Riverton, so I should be in the clear for any awkward run-ins.
It wasn’t like I had much hope the dates would lead to real love, anyway. I’d been working too much since opening the store and getting out more was good for me. That was all.
And if it continued to get under Damon’s skin, well, that was just a win-win.