Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
STEVIE
K issing didn’t count.
After a week of stressing over that kiss with Maverick, I’d come to the conclusion that kissing didn’t count.
It didn’t mean anything. It was nothing. It was merely a test to see if we could pull off a convincing relationship.
There’d been those first few moments when I’d frozen, too stunned to hide my initial shock. But after that had faded, after I’d turned off my brain and relaxed into Maverick’s lips, it had been... good. Incredible, actually. I’d never been kissed like that before. Lazily, like he was savoring every moment. Thoroughly, like he was making sure it wasn’t something I’d soon forget. Deliciously, like he wanted the taste of his cinnamon gum to linger for days.
Well, it sure had.
No wonder so many women on campus were infatuated with the man.
Fucking Maverick and his fucking cinnamon gum.
Well, I refused to let one kiss scramble my brain. Kissing didn’t count. And sooner rather than later, I’d stop thinking about it, right?
Right.
“Ugh,” I groaned, dropping my face into my hands as I sat at the dining room table.
Not only had I kissed Mav, but then I’d admitted to snitching on his kiss with Heather Olson in high school. The confession had come out so quickly, it had shocked me too.
Maverick hadn’t gotten angry. Why? He should have been furious. But he’d just shrugged, unfazed by the truth.
I wished he had gotten angry. I think I’d said it hoping for a fight.
It was easier when we argued.
Well, maybe I’d get that argument tonight.
I’d been dressed and ready for my date with Maverick for hours, but it wasn’t time to leave yet. So I’d been sitting here long enough that the chair was getting uncomfortable, reminding myself the whole time that kissing didn’t count.
This dinner tonight didn’t need to be any different than the last. My book was already packed in my purse.
“Hey.”
“Ah!” I jumped, the legs of my chair scraping across the floor as Jennsyn walked into the room. “Shit. You scared me.”
“Sorry. I thought you heard me come downstairs.”
There was an overnight bag on her shoulder. The duffel was stuffed so full the zipper couldn’t close in the middle.
Jennsyn’s overnight visits at her boyfriend’s house next door lasted days. When she eventually came back, that bag would be empty. She was moving into Toren’s place one bag at a time.
“You look pretty,” she said, setting her stuff on the floor .
“Thanks.” I smoothed down the front of my black dress.
A dress I wore not because I wanted to impress Maverick, but because it was my favorite.
The skirt was a little short for family functions and the straps that crisscrossed in the back left a lot of skin on display.
It was my favorite, even though this was the first time I’d worn it out. Favorite-ish. Favorite adjacent.
“Going to Toren’s?” I asked her.
“Yep.” She beamed, tucking a lock of her shoulder-length blond hair behind an ear.
I was going to miss her when she eventually stopped pretending like she still lived here. Our other roommate, Liz, spent most nights at her boyfriend’s place too. This house was becoming much too quiet. Too lonely.
But at least Jennsyn was only moving next door.
She’d transferred to Treasure State for our senior year, and since she’d been new to Montana, our coach had asked if I would mind another roommate. It had taken us a while to get to know each other, to become friends. But over the past year, she’d become my best friend.
Jennsyn and I were both adjusting to life without volleyball. Without school. And now that we’d graduated, she and Toren could finally stop hiding their relationship.
They’d met at a summer party before the school year had started last year. They’d hit it off, except they hadn’t realized at the time that she was a student athlete and he was one of the football coaches.
They’d kept their relationship a secret for months, but eventually, I’d started to suspect something was happening. She was good at sneaking out at night, but not that good .
It was nice that the secrecy was over. That she didn’t have to pretend she wasn’t head over heels for Toren Greely.
As far as I knew, they weren’t broadcasting their relationship widely, but they weren’t denying it either. They simply weren’t telling anyone when they’d started dating. No one needed to know it had been months, not weeks.
“Are you guys doing anything tonight?” I asked.
“We talked about going out to dinner, but I doubt we’ll go.” She laughed. “We’re in that stage where we’re perfectly content to spend every waking hour in bed. You know how that feels. I want to soak it in.”
No, I didn’t know how that felt.
Not even close.
Jennsyn didn’t know I was a virgin. Neither did Liz. In the year we’d all lived together, my sex life—or lack thereof—hadn’t come up in conversation. If they ever asked, I’d be honest, but I certainly wasn’t going to offer it up freely.
In my heart of hearts, I knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about. I was picky. I had high standards. That wasn’t a bad thing. For so long, I’d been hung up on giving my virginity to the right guy.
Now I wasn’t even sure a right guy existed.
None of the boys in high school had ever measured up, and those I’d dated in college hadn’t either. Not that I’d dated much. With a full-time class schedule and volleyball, there hadn’t been much free time for parties. Most of the guys in my classes had been threatened by a woman who was taller and, if our grades were anything to go by, smarter too.
I’d spent the time between volleyball seasons working for Dad at Adair. There’d been a few landscaping guys over the years who’d been hot. But I was the boss’s daughter. Beyond flirting, none had been brave enough to ask me out.
Virginity had been a redeeming virtue at fourteen. At sixteen, the few girls at the Oaks who’d done it were snickered about. By eighteen, I’d been in the minority of girls who hadn’t.
As time had gone on, it had become this thing . This hurdle. But I’d told myself that if I’d waited until I was twenty, then I might as well wait for that right guy. A good guy. Apparently, all of the good guys had vanished or were taken.
Another year had passed with my virginity intact. Then another. Now I was twenty-two and I just wanted to get this over with.
I wanted to know what it felt like to have sex. I wanted to not fake conversations with my roommates about being in bed with a man.
“What are you doing tonight?” Jennsyn asked, her eyes sweeping over the curls in my hair and the dress. “Hot date?”
Yes, actually. Maverick was a hot date.
I cringed. How the hell had I gotten myself into this position?
This was Meredith’s fault. Her dying wish. I loved her too much to be angry.
“Yeah, I have a date.”
“Really.” She shimmied her shoulders. “Tell me everything. Is it that James guy you went out with a few times?”
“No.” I scrunched up my nose. “He’s too much of a snob. I’m actually going out with, um... Maverick.”
Jennsyn’s jaw hit the floor. “Maverick Houston? As in the kicker on Toren’s football team? As in your archnemesis from high school and the bane of your existence?”
Good to know that she’d been listening the few times I’d bitched about Mav .
“Yep. That’s the one.”
“I thought you hated him.”
I lifted a shoulder. Hate was exactly the word I’d used before, but today, it felt too powerful. Too extreme. I’d never really hated Maverick. “He’s... Maverick.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Considering I didn’t know what it meant? “No. It’s complicated.”
“But you like him now?”
“Yes?” That answer shouldn’t have come out as a question.
Did I like Maverick?
We certainly weren’t friends. And I didn’t have a crush on him. But he had his moments. Mostly, I liked me around Maverick.
I could just be myself. I didn’t have to laugh at his jokes if they weren’t funny. I didn’t have to stroke his ego—I worked tirelessly to temper it instead. I didn’t have to try to impress him or pretend to be anyone but myself.
He knew me, good and bad. Just like I knew him.
I liked that we could be real with each other.
Even if this was fake.
And though I wouldn’t admit it to a soul on this earth, I liked that kiss.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I told Jennsyn. It was the truth. “We’re just going out to dinner. We’ll see what happens.”
“All right. Just be careful, okay?” His reputation with women was the unspoken reason behind that warning.
Maverick was nothing if not notorious.
One of the younger players on our volleyball team, Megan, had been crushing on Maverick last year. I’d told her to be careful. Maverick was the type to chew her up and spit her out. Had Megan heeded my warning? No. She’d been determined to climb into his bed.
But we’d all listened to her fawn over him in the locker room for weeks. Then one day, nothing. She’d never mentioned Maverick again. Probably because he’d chewed her up and spit her out.
Judging from the look on her face, Jennsyn was worried that would happen to me too.
“Don’t worry.” I waved it off. “I know what I’m doing.”
Did I?
“Okay.” She didn’t believe me. Not even a little bit. “Well, I’d better head over. Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks. You too.” There were butterflies in my stomach as I headed for the garage. They kept flapping their insufferable wings as I drove downtown to the sports bar where Maverick and I were meeting for dinner.
He’d texted me this morning asking if I was up for somewhere other than Luna. Of course he’d pick a place where there were TVs mounted on every wall. Fine by me. He could watch whatever game was on while I read my book.
I’d had a busy week working at Adair. Mostly, I trailed Dad around, acting as his shadow. But he worked long hours, and as his shadow, that meant I worked long hours too.
The bar where we were meeting was on Main Street. As I walked inside, I gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. It was one of the more popular hangouts in Mission, and as I spotted a few tables full of college students, those butterflies in my stomach transformed into hornets.
People were going to think I was another random woman on Maverick’s arm. Another notch in his bedpost. Another girl in a short skirt .
I cared what people thought. No matter how much I pretended outside opinions didn’t matter, they did.
What was I doing here? Why had I picked this dress? What was happening to me? This past week, I’d questioned everything. I’d worried and fretted and turned myself inside out.
“Stevie.” Maverick’s voice cut through the sounds of glasses clinking and people talking and TV announcers blaring.
I scanned the bar and spotted him at a high table toward the back. His seat was perfectly positioned in front of the largest television in the room.
Weaving through tables, I made my way to his side, staring at the three empty chairs. One beside his. Two across.
If I sat beside him, I’d be able to watch TV too. If I sat across from him, the screen would be above my head and I’d have every excuse to read.
Before I could second-guess myself, I pulled out the chair beside his.
“Hi.” My voice was flimsy and pathetic. That single word sounded more like a swoon. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey.”
Maverick gave me a sideways glance. “You okay?”
“Super-duper.” What the . . . super-duper?
Maybe I should feign illness. Go home and think about my word choices for the next five to seven business days.
No. This was a date. I’d agreed to Saturday. So I took a deep breath and looked anywhere but at Maverick.
A few years ago, the owners had remodeled this place. The rectangular bar sat in the center of the space, giving people four sides in which to place their orders. There were mirrors behind the shelves of liquor, and the exposed posts and beams were stained a dark brown, adding to the moody atmosphere. Against the red brick walls, tall, leather booths gave people more intimate seating.
And the massive garage door with black-paned windows at the front of the building was open, letting in the sound of traffic from Main Street. A breath of wind carried through the bar, raising goose bumps on my arms.
I hated this dress.
“Nice dress,” Maverick said, his gaze dropping down the bare skin on my back.
There was appreciation in his gaze. Was that why I’d plucked it from an abandoned corner of my closet? Because I’d wanted that sort of reaction?
Yes.
This was all Maverick’s fault. He’d kissed me and then I’d spent a week overthinking a kiss that didn’t count but maybe it did count and I was using this dress as my own personal revenge for him twisting me into a knot.
My head was starting to hurt.
The waitress swung by, a tray tucked under her arm. “What can I get you?”
“Water, please.”
“And a shot of Fireball,” Maverick said.
She left two menus on the table, then hurried to the bar. I was still squirming in my seat, trying to nonchalantly tug down the too-short hem of my skirt when she returned with my water and his shot.
The scent of cinnamon hit my nose, and it was like a portal to the past. I wasn’t in a bar. I was on my porch, Maverick’s lips sealed to mine, our tongues tangled.
I breathed through my mouth.
“Here.” He slid the shot in front of me .
“I don’t want that.” I gave it a sideways glance, then slid it away.
There would be nothing cinnamon in my mouth tonight. Not that shot. Not his gum. Definitely not his tongue.
“Why not?” he asked. “You’re nicer to me when you’re a little tipsy.”
The tone of his voice was flirty and sultry. Sexy and low. The voice he’d used on that phone call at Luna. The voice he used to seduce women.
My belly did a strange flip. I didn’t like that voice. But I kind of did.
Seriously, no wonder he was a playboy. It was almost hard to blame him. I doubted he had to work for attention at all.
“Don’t use your sex voice on me.”
“My what?” He barked a laugh. “Sex voice?”
“You know what I mean.” I flicked my wrist. “That voice you use when you’re talking to a hookup. Like that girl you called at Luna. Save that voice for your harem, not me.”
“I don’t have a harem or a sex voice. And for the record, I didn’t call a girl at Luna. I called Rush and pretended he was a girl because I knew it would piss you off.”
So I’d punished him by being late. And he’d thrown it right back in my face. Maybe I should have suspected it that night. Maverick had always been the best opponent. I bit the inside of my cheek to hide a smile. “Jerk.”
He chuckled. “Couldn’t help myself. If you want this shot, you can have it. But you don’t have to.”
“I’m not drinking tonight.” I lifted my chin, eyes glued to the TV. “I’m driving.”
“I’ll take you home. ”
So he could ambush me with another kiss on my front stoop? “Absolutely not.”
Maverick heaved a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he raked a hand through his hair. “There’s the brick wall,” he muttered.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He snatched my glass of water and took a long drink. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Sure.” Food seemed like a great way to avoid conversation. And oddly enough, this was the same feeling I normally had on dates. On edge. Jittery. Not exactly hungry, but eating meant I didn’t have to make small talk.
Wait. When the hell had this become an actual date?
“Hey, Mav.” A petite blond appeared at the end of our table. She leaned her forearms against the edge, pressing her breasts together as she flashed him her cleavage.
“Hey,” he muttered, barely sparing her a glance.
The woman looked at me, then back to Maverick, her smile widening when he tore his eyes from the TV. “How’s it going?”
He stared at her for a long moment, almost like he was trying to place her. Then he threw an arm across the back of my chair, his hand wrapping around my bicep. His thumb started tracing patterns on my bare skin. “We’re good.”
We’re good?
It took everything in my power not to let my mouth flap open.
We’re good. Like we were a couple. Like I enjoyed the tingles on my arm from his thumb.
I did like them. But she didn’t need to know that .
“Want to split a burger, babe?” he asked, leaning into my side and holding up a menu for us both to read.
Babe?
He squeezed my arm, a silent plea for us to sell this date to the blond. Did he even know who she was?
Another night, I might have let him suffer. But this woman was bold enough to interrupt and she wasn’t getting the hint.
“Sure, sweetie.” I leaned into his side.
We should have auditioned for the senior play at the Oaks. Instead, we’d both been on stage crew.
“Well, I just wanted to say hi,” the blond said, clicking her nails on the table.
“Hi.” I gave her my sweetest, saccharine smile, then tapped the menu with my free hand. “Oh, let’s get nachos instead. No cilantro or?—”
“Olives. I know.”
He did know. He knew what foods I liked and those I didn’t.
His icy blue eyes met mine, and the knot in my stomach loosened. The hornets buzzed off.
So did the blond.
“One of your girlfriends?” I asked.
“I don’t have girlfriends.” He took another drink of my water. “What about you? Am I going to run into another boyfriend tonight?”
“No.” The closest thing I’d had to a boyfriend lately was, well... Maverick.
“You know, I was thinking last week. You’ve never brought a guy home.”
“So? You’ve never brought a girlfriend home either.”
“Because I don’t have girlfriends. ”
“Until now.”
“Until now.” His eyes stayed locked on mine, and they transformed from serious to playful in a blink. I knew that mischievous glint. He’d been torturing me with it since birth.
“What?” I inched away.
“When was the last time you had a decent fuck?”
My gasp was instant. Then I gave him my best scowl as I dipped my fingers into the water and flicked the drops into his face. “You’re such a pig.”
“Truth.” He chuckled, wiping his nose dry. “I’m just joking.”
“Liar,” I muttered, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Okay, fine. I’m curious. I was thinking about it all week.”
“About what?”
He shrugged. “Why you’ve never brought anyone around.”
“So that you could ridicule him?”
It wasn’t a reason. There simply hadn’t been a guy to bring home, not one I’d wanted to introduce to my parents. Or maybe there hadn’t been a guy I’d met who could handle Maverick.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Maverick was always a part of my thought processes. At least where our families were concerned. Maybe the reason I hadn’t brought anyone home was because I’d known it would end in a dumpster fire.
Shit . I’d ponder that one later.
“Next topic, please,” I said.
“This one making you uncomfortable?” He bumped his shoulder into mine. “How long has it been since you’ve dated anyone seriously? ”
“I haven’t,” I admitted. “I’ve been busy. I haven’t had a lot of time for a boyfriend with school and volleyball. And no one has come along that’s made me want to make space.”
Maverick studied me for a moment, then hummed. “Fair enough.”
I waited, expecting him to pester me for more. But he dropped the subject, taking a drink of water even though my fingers had been in it just a minute ago.
The waitress returned with another glass, this one for me, and took our order. Then we sat together, both staring at the TV.
He seemed entertained by the baseball game, but I couldn’t seem to concentrate on the game. Every few moments, I’d steal a glance at Maverick’s profile.
How long were we going to have to keep this up? Weeks? Months? How many Saturdays would we meet in this very bar, where he could watch a game and we could pretend to be enjoying a date?
Wouldn’t it be easier, and cheaper, to just meet at a house?
Except I wasn’t sure I was ready for him to invade my house. My roommates would have questions. If we went to his place, his roommates would have questions.
What if I used this situation to my advantage? What if I stopped waiting for someone special? What if I got this over with?
It wasn’t the first time I’d had this idea in the past week. No, I’d considered it as often as I’d replayed that kiss. On. Loop.
I didn’t want to be a virgin. I was dating a man who had no qualms about casual sex. And as a bonus, Maverick was a known quantity. We might fight, he might drive me up the wall, but deep down, he was a good guy.
Not that I’d ever admit that to his face.
“What?” Maverick pivoted to the side, eyebrows raised. “You keep staring at me. And I can tell by the look on your face that you’re thinking something. Do I want to know what it is?”
“Probably not.”
It was a horrible idea. It was fraught with peril and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind I’d regret it.
But what if . . .
Kissing didn’t count. What if sex didn’t count either? What if it didn’t have to mean anything? What if I could just check the box on this thing and move on?
“Spill,” he ordered.
Don’t do it. Do not.
I snatched that shot of Fireball, tipping it to my lips. The alcohol burned as it slid down my throat, warming my belly. I grimaced and chased it with a gulp of water.
Then, before I lost my nerve, I spilled.
“I think I want you to have sex with me.”