Chapter 19 - Maverick
Chapter nineteen
Maverick
She’s here.
She’s really here… In my fucking arms, at that. And boy, is she something else. She’s so much more than I could have ever imagined. She’s a firecracker, and I’m undoubtedly drawn to her.
I should have let her be after she threw the drink in my face—should have walked away. But nope, here I am, carrying her to my car after I just barely caught her when she blacked out and fell.
What the hell are you doing, Maverick?
I’m not one to necessarily believe in fate, but what are the odds? This has to mean something.
I never thought I’d see the girl from outside the restaurant again. But she’s here. In fucking Arkansas, of all places, at this fucking bar, on the night I happen to pull the short straw for designated driver. What are the chances our paths would cross again?
“Mav, catch you back at the hotel?” Carlos calls out when he and the other guys round the corner of the parking lot, heading toward their vehicles.
“Yeah, see y’all in the morning,” I respond as my mystery girl stirs in my arms.
“What the fu—” She attempts to slur out, but doesn’t finish her sentence, just falls back asleep.
“Good luck with that one,” Carlos says, laughing and getting into his truck.
Great, I’m never going to live this down. Fuck it.
Her friend beside me is barely standing up straight, and I’m honestly unsure how she’s walked this far.
How the hell did I get myself in this position? Mystery Girl passes out in my lap, and then suddenly I’m offering to take her and her friend home. I know how. I’m fucking enraptured by this girl. She has me captivated.
After she fell, this protective instinct washed over me, and I just had to ensure that she was safe.
“Can you open the front passenger door?” I ask, nodding to my truck.
Her friend, who I still don’t know either of their names, complies and stumbles her way over to the door, opening it. I set my mystery girl down and begin to strap her in. Her eyes open briefly, locking with mine. She mumbles something incoherent, then falls back asleep.
After much convincing, her friend, who seems just as plastered, finally manages to give me the address, and we take off toward their home.
The drive is short, and before I know it, I’m parked in front of an older house that is brought to life with an array of flowers on the porch.
I wake her friend and get her to unlock the house. She must not live here, considering she dug through Mystery Girl’s purse to find the keys. Once the friend almost falls through the door, I continue unbuckling and carrying my Mystery Girl inside.
Taking the walkway to the front door, another girl steps out of the house, arms crossed over her chest, and wearing a scowl of disapproval.
“Who the hell are you?” she asks, just as I take another step closer. “What did you do to—”
“Chill, Mom,” the drunk friend says, a little too loudly. “He didn’t do anything. He just gave us a ride home.”
“I’m just the delivery driver,” I joke, trying to calm the tension. “She fell, so I offered—”
“Shit,” she says loudly, cutting me off. “Is she okay? Does she need to go to the hospital?” The new girl rushes toward us, checking my mystery girl over frantically.
“Hey,” my voice is soft. I can see the concern evident in her features, in the way her brows are drawn together with wide eyes. “She’s okay. She just had a little too much to drink.” I continue walking toward the front door. “Where can I set her down?”
She eyes me curiously, but begins to lead the way. “Follow me.”
We walk into the house, where I’m immediately met with the scent of florals and something earthy. Almost as if stepping into a field of wildflowers. The new girl leads me over to what I assume to be my mystery girl's bedroom.
As I step in, holding her tightly to me, the new girl pulls back the covers, adjusts the pillow, and pats the bed. “You can set her down now.”
“Oh, right,” I say with a chuckle, realizing I was transfixed yet again, staring at the beautiful woman in my arms.
The new girl lovingly tucks in my mystery girl, removing her shoes, and I can see how much she cares for her. It’s evident.
“What’s her name?” I ask, my voice cutting through the silence in the room.
Her friend stills, going stiff for a moment. “You don’t know her name, yet you brought her home?”
I chuckle softly. “Would you rather I have left her passed out on the floor?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically, but I can see her posture relax. “Fair. But I won’t give you her name. That isn’t my—”
“Does she… Is this normal for her?” I find myself asking before I can stop the words from escaping. I can’t help but want to know everything there is to know.
“Lately, yeah,” her friend responds, throwing me a soft glare.
Before I can stop myself, my mouth opens and the words pour out. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be a little concerned?” I know it isn’t my business, but like I said, I find myself becoming strangely protective of this girl.
Her glare hardens, causing me to shift on my feet. “What makes you think I’m not?”
“I mean…” I swallow, not sure if I should say more. But of course I fucking do. “You just tucked her into bed like this is a normal, nightly thing. If she were my friend——”
“Well, she isn’t,” she cuts in. “You don’t know her, and you don’t know me.” Her words are cold, and the stone-cold look on her face gives away that I accidentally struck a nerve.
Sighing, I rub the back of my neck. “You’re right, sorry. I should get going.”
She walks over to me, leads me out of the room, closes the door behind us, and ushers me toward the front door of the tiny house.
“Thanks for bringing them home,” she says, practically pushing me out the door, leaving no room for me to respond before she closes it. I hear the locks set in place.
I get it. Stranger danger and all. So, I quickly make my way back to my truck and pull out to put her worries at ease. The last thing I want to do is make the only sober person in the house more uncomfortable than she already is.
I wish I could say that this was it. That after seeing her again, she’s finally out of my system. Because let's face it—I’ve been wound up with thoughts of my mystery girl since I saw her for the first time two years ago.
But I can already tell she’s managed to only implant herself further into my thoughts. I won’t forget her anytime soon.
She can’t be good for me, with her free spirit, quick sass, and no-fucks-given attitude—but damn, do I want her.
She’s so much more than she shows to the world.
She’s the girl who fights through the darkness that life throws at her, and somehow, manages to find strength, even when it’s the hardest thing she could possibly do.
The sad part is, I don’t even know her name. Nor do I have her phone number. And I leave tomorrow afternoon to head back to Louisiana to close on the house I bought. So, truth be told, our paths will probably never cross again.
She’ll forever remain my mystery girl.