Chapter 4
four
MAVERICK
I follow Sawyer into my new apartment, a smile blooming over my face. It took longer than expected, but I finally have a place to call my own.
Just in time, too. Sawyer and his girlfriend are getting more serious and she’s moving in with him. He said I could stay, but I need to have my own space, not just sleeping on the couch where I can hear them fucking. I think I’ve been subjected to enough.
Sawyer drops a box of pillows into the middle of the floor, puts his hands on his hips, and looks around. “This place will look great when you get some furniture.”
“I know, right? I’m surprised someone let it go. It’s awesome.”
The one bedroom one bath apartment is about ten minutes from my job and has a large living room with a patio, a separate dining room, and a bedroom with a walk-in closet to die for.
The kitchen has so much counter space, I almost don’t know what to do with it.
And it’s below the average rental cost for the area, so I can put money away to buy a house in a few years.
This place is going to change my life; I can feel it.
Sawyer claps his hands. “Okay, let’s get the last few boxes off the truck bed, then we can furniture shop. You have your list?”
I nod and pat my pocket. I don’t have money to go get brand new furniture, so we’re going to hit up a few yard sales today. The only thing I plan to spring for brand new is a mattress. Other than that, secondhand until I can afford to replace it.
But really, a good cleaning would make a lot of yard sale furniture brand new.
“Yep,” I say. “Let’s roll. It’s fucking hot outside. I don’t want to have to move heavy shit when the sun is at its highest.”
Sawyer agrees and we head out into the warmth of the morning.
I’m so glad to have my own place. After I graduated from culinary arts school where I studied to be a pastry chef, I lived with my parents while I was networking and looking for work.
I was already living with Walt when I finally got my bakery job.
I lived with him for a year and a half before our relationship went into the crapper.
Then I lived with Sawyer for six months.
I’ve never had my own space, never had somewhere that was just mine.
I frown as I think about Walt. Fucking asshole. The only silver lining in this fucked-up situation is the man he cheated on me with stole his couch while he was at work. Apparently Walt had given him a key two weeks after I left.
Now neither of us have the comfortable couch I spent a whole-ass paycheck on. He called crying about it, saying he couldn’t afford another. I told him to kick rocks in traffic at night with a blindfold on and blocked his number.
Two years of my life spent with that douchebag, and he cared more about losing his couch than losing me.
“How does it feel to have your own spot?” Sawyer asks, patting me on the back.
“Great. I loved living with you, don’t get me wrong. But…”
“But it’s not your own place. I get it. It’s nice to have something you can call your own.”
“Thanks for letting me crash with you. I know I’ve said it repeatedly, but I mean it. If it weren’t for you, I’m not sure I would have been able to leave Walt, since I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go.”
After I moved in with Walt, my parents retired to Florida, saying they wanted the warmer climate of the beach.
“Don’t sweat it,” Sawyer waves me off. “You would have done the same for me. You’re my best friend, Mav. Anything you need, if it’s within my power, it’s yours.”
I grin as he brings me in for a hug. “You sure you’re straight? You’d be the perfect boyfriend, you know.”
He snorts as we get into his truck. “I’m sure. Though you’re a catch yourself. If I were into dudes, you’d be my first stop.” He winks at me and I pretend to gag. Sawyer and I joke like this all the time, but we would never even think about going there.
We drive around the city, hitting up a few yard sales. Since it’s summertime, everyone is out trying to sell all the shit that’s been lazing around in their garages.
By midafternoon, I have a matching bed frame, dresser, and nightstand set, a dining room table with four chairs, a bookshelf, and a TV stand for less than two hundred dollars. Everything is in good condition, and it’ll probably last for a few years.
We go back to my place and unload everything, setting up the TV stand so I can add my television and all my video games. We quickly put together the bed frame and arrange the bedroom furniture how I like it.
Once we’re done and I give the place my stamp of approval, we head out again. “Now you need a couch,” Sawyer says.
“No more fucking sectionals,” I seethe, still pissed about Walt and how he was plowing that man with abandon on the fucking couch I paid for. NO MORE FUCKING SECTIONALS!
The few yard sales we see on our side of town have couches, but none that coordinate with anything I bought today.
I might not have any luck getting a set, but I want to try before I give up.
Honestly, I really only need a loveseat.
I only have a handful of friends and don’t plan to do a lot of entertaining.
Mostly, I need somewhere to relax after work while I play video games or read a book.
But I would feel like a real grownup if I had a living room set.
“Want to try the north side?” Sawyer asks as he hops onto the interstate.
I scoff and shake my head. “I won’t be able to afford anything they’re selling. Those people buy the most expensive furniture just to sell it when it goes out of season a few months later. You think they’ll have anything in my budget?”
“You never know. You might get lucky.”
We haven’t so far, but it’s not like it’ll hurt to look. If I can’t find something within my budget, we can always try again next weekend.
Shrugging, I say, “Okay, sure. Why the hell not?”
Sawyer pulls off the interstate a few exits later, and we weave through the streets of the north side.
The houses here are larger and spaced further apart, but there are several yard sales.
We don’t stop at all of them, checking out the windows first to see if they have any couches that don’t look stiff.
We drive for over an hour with no luck, all the selections looking like they belong in a museum or a fancy doctor’s office.
Just when I start to tell Sawyer that we can try again next week, I look down a side street that’s almost directly between the two sides of town and see a yard sale in a cul-de-sac. Before Sawyer passes the street, my eyes snag on a couch and loveseat set.
“Stop!” I shout, making Sawyer yelp and slam on the brakes. Thank all that is holy that there aren’t any other cars behind us.
“Shit, you can’t do that, man! I thought something darted into the road,” Sawyer huffs, turning hard eyes on me.
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He turns away and runs a hand through his hair and blows out a long breath. When he looks back at me his eyes are as friendly as they usually are. “It’s all good. Sorry for snapping like that.”
I lean into him. “You had a reason to. I was excited because I saw a living room set back there. I should have waited until you got to the stop sign and asked you to turn around.”
Kissing the top of my head, he says, “All good. Let me turn and we can go check it out.”
Sawyer makes a wide, illegal-as-fuck U-turn in the middle of the street and turns down the cul-de-sac.
When we pull up and park, I peer at the couches and see a man standing next to a tall, Black woman, pointing at the set. I deflate as I watch their exchange, hoping and praying he won’t snap them up. I’m tired and want to rest, but I want to leave with those couches, dammit!
As I watch, the woman shakes her head, her large, beautiful ‘fro moving with the motion. The man huffs and puts his hands on his hips, his face red as he says something that puts a furrow in her brow.
Before he continues to spew whatever shit he thinks will get him what he wants, she snaps her fingers and his eyes widen, his hands going to his throat. He stumbles away, trying to speak, but no sound comes out.
Sawyer and I look at each other, but don’t leave. That was creepy, but I really want those couches.
As soon as we get out of the truck, the most amazing scent hits me. It’s like…coffee and books and leather and man. Jesus Christ, that smells amazing.
“Is there a coffee shop around here?” I ask, sniffing at the air obnoxiously. I know I look a fool, but I can’t stop. I need to know where that scent is coming from so I can bathe in it.
Sawyer looks at me, an eyebrow ticked up. “No. I mean, I think there’s one a few miles back. Why? You feeling tired?”
“No…you don’t smell that?” I sniff again, taking in the powerful, erotic aroma.
Erotic? Huh?
I look down at my front and see my cock is half hard! It even has the nerve to twitch like it wants everyone to see what’s going on because that scent is in the air.
Quickly, I pull my shirt down to cover myself. Thank god I have on one of Sawyer’s much bigger tops. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m some sick man that gets aroused by freaking furniture.
I look around and meet the eyes of the woman that shut that guy up, and smile at her, not wanting to get on her bad side. She smiles back, but it’s not just a welcoming smile, it’s…knowing. What does she know? Couldn’t fucking tell you, but she knows.
She saunters over and I watch Sawyer’s eyes grow wide as a blush blooms over his cheeks. He mutters something about going over to look at lamps and hurries off, not even giving me a backward glance.
What was that about? Is he scared of her because she used some kind of magic mojo to stop that guy from yelling at her? She doesn’t look scary; she looks like a beautiful woman with a pretty smile and an inviting aura.
Sawyer is so weird.
“Hey, I’m Blossom,” the woman says as she stops in front of me. She sticks out her hand and I take it.