5. Maverick
Maverick
“Shouldn’t have said that,” I rasp, wiping my brow before turning to Hank. “I should not have said that.”
What was I thinking? I knew I messed up the moment the words left my mouth. Problem is that I didn’t have control of said words. Or my brain. I lost that the moment I touched Corinne’s soft skin. The moment she entered my life. She’s all I’ve been able to think about.
I brace my hands on the edge of the counter, trying my best to hold it together. I’ve been attempting to make stew, but failing miserably because I’ve been replaying what I said over and over again, remembering the look on her face.
I sigh, returning to chopping vegetables. Nothing can change what I said, but honestly, I’m not sure I would. It was the truth. Corinne looks like a damn angel, even with all that mud. Especially with that mud.
Chop. Chop. Chop. My mind drifts to her in the shower, water sluicing off her nak— shit! The knife slips from my grip, clattering to the ground.
Hank runs over to me, chittering.
I give him a scratch behind the ears. “I’m fine, buddy.”
But it’s not the truth. I’m not fine. I won’t be fine. I’m all twisted up, tied up around Corinne’s finger, and she has no idea. Well, maybe she has some idea now, but the way she was looking at me and the silence that followed spelled out her feelings on the subject.
Not good.
“Shouldn’t have told her that, Hank,” I repeat, because I can’t break this damn cycle. “Shouldn’t have?—”
Hank rears back, chittering as he gestures erratically with his paws.
“What?”
More chitters and one long growl-bark.
“You think I didn’t say enough?”
Hank nods.
I scratch my head. “Yeah, I’m not too sure about Hank. And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t take relationship advice from a four-year-old raccoon either.
Hank’s eyes widen before he growls once and then trots toward the doggy door I made for him.
“Ah, come on, Hank,” I shout, rising to my feet. “Do be like that. I didn’t mean it.” I snag a piece of raw beef off the counter and toss it his way. “Take that as a piece offering.”
Hank turns around, pauses, but then turns up his snout at it and heads through the doggy door.
“I’ll tell her, Hank. I promise.”
“Tell her what?”
My mouth dries. Hank swoops back into the kitchen, ready to see me shove my foot in my mouth.
“I-uh-I was just talking with Hank.” I turn around slowly, scratching my head. “And I?—”
Sweet Jesus, is she trying to kill me?
My vision blurs, unable to focus on the beauty standing before me. Corinne’s damp hair is pulled up off her shoulders, and her sweater hangs low off one side. No bra. No shirt. No underwear beneath those leggings.
Shit, I misspoke when I said she looked like an angel. Corinne’s a goddess. The kind of beauty men write poems or songs about. Jesus, she’s perfect. And she’s staring at me because I haven’t said a damn word after her beauty stunned me, turning me into an unthinking, salivating mute.
I finally shut my mouth and then try to swallow, but my throat’s dry and I start coughing.
“Maverick?” Corinne takes a few tentative steps toward me.
I clear my throat, trying my best not to imagine what’s beneath that sweater. That torturous outline. The curve of…
Deep . Breath.
I need to calm down. I’ve already done enough, and she must be scared to death, lost out on the mountain in a storm that’s continuing to rage. Finding herself locked inside with a man of my stature… and Hank.
“Hank’s just enthralled with you. He uh—He’s glad you’re here because I’m terrible company.”
We both glance at Hank. He tries to chitter, but he’s got a mouth full of beef. That son of a gun came back for it like I knew he would.
She walks toward me, the soft patter of her feet against the wood floor sending my heart racing. Her fingers barely reach the edge of the sweater. I swallow hard. Her lips. I’m having a hell of a time focusing.
“Well,” she says, stopping in front of me.
She smells like heaven. Looks like it too, although I can’t say for sure, given I’ve never visited.
Although if she touches me again, gifts me the honor of claiming those lips just once, I’ll likely be on my way.
Just looking at her is making my heart race. A kiss would make it explode.
“I think you’re great company. Cooking for me.” Another small step. That swath of skin at her shoulder. Those… Jesus, I can see her nipples poking through the fabric.
She smiles. “Saving me.” She drags her hand down the front of my shirt, and I swear I’m about to bust in my pants. “My knight in fluffy flannel.” She picks at something, rubs her fingers together. “And raccoon fur.”
I’d be a little embarrassed if I weren’t a lot turned on.
“How’s the stew coming?”
Her soft voice rolls over that delicate tongue and her plush lips like my favorite song. I could listen to her all day and never grow tired of her voice. I could stare at her all day and think I had a fulfilling day. I could?—
“Maverick?”
The corner of her mouth turns up along with an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
“Did you hear me?”
Certainly. Although I can’t remember what she said. Again, my concentration isn’t all there, especially when my skin still tingles from her touch and all the blood from my head has drained, entering a different one…
“Yeah,” I rasp, scratching my head.
Hank chitters at me. You okay, big guy?
Nope. Not at all.
“The stew?” Corinne supplies helpfully.
“Right, the stew. It’s uh, coming along. Although it’s slow going. Hank’s not the best sous chef. He’s too busy snagging beef cubes to help chop the vegetables.”
Corinne laughs, and we both turn to look at Hank. He’s trying to protest, but it’s hard when his mouth is filled with beef.
“Well, I can help you out there. Give me a job and I’m all yours.”
Wish you were, sweetheart.
“Cutting board’s right there,” I rasp. “I’ll finish up the meat and fend off Hank.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a tougher job.”
She’s not wrong. I do have a tougher job, but it’s not what she thinks.
It’s keeping my hands to myself.
“Cherry Ridge Farm, huh? Nice place.”
I glance surreptitiously at Corinne—third time in the last thirty seconds. Can’t help myself. There’s something about her next to me, preparing food in our—my kitchen. I swallow hard.
I keep thinking of this cabin, everything as ours. It’s a ridiculous fantasy, but I can’t help but let it play out.This feels natural, talking with each other as we prepare a meal. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. Never thought I would.
We’ve been talking about her work. Life.
She even admitted to seeing me at the Hungry Hiker.
I considered telling her first, but I didn’t want to seem crazier than I’m already coming off.
Yeah, I noticed you. Your lunch order. The way you touched your wrist as you looked out at the mountains with a soft smile.
A little frown before tossing your phone in your purse…
She turns, head tilted, eyes lit up as she stares at me. “It’s gorgeous. The landscape. The lodge. The barn! It’s hard to even call it a barn. It’s nicer than any house I’ve lived in. Those beams? The doors and windows. A photographer’s dream.”
And you’re my dream, Corinne.
She pops a carrot chunk into her mouth before turning back to the cutting board.
I swallow, shoving the last of the meat into the pot before washing my hands.
“You know I helped with those beams.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” I turn off the faucet, shaking my hands before grabbing a hand towel. I turn to her, wiping my hands as I lean against the counter.
“Went through a restoration and renovation process a while back. I was barely out of high school, but my grandpa got me the job.” I set the towel down beside me. “Learned a lot on that job. Learned a lot from my grandpa, too.”
“Is that why you had a chainsaw? You’re a construction worker?”
“Not any more.” I scratch my beard. “I guess I’m a woodworker.”
“You’re not sure?”
I shrug. “Never put a label on it. Just work with my hands. Shaping?—”
“Chainsaw too, apparently,” Corinne interjects, smiling.
“That’s more recent. Primarily use chainsaws to cut down the trees, not for accurate, clean cuts for my building projects. But my new project requires one right now.”
“What is it?”
Can’t remember the last time I talked about what I do. Probably when Hank was a little younger and I was trying to get him used to my voice.
“A birthday present for my niece. You know those big carved bears you sometimes see downtown.”
“I missed them on my walk downtown, but I think I know what you mean.”
I nod. “Well, my niece was asking for one, although she wanted it to have a tutu.”
“Was that the girl you were with earlier today?”
Can’t help but smile. Maybe she wasn’t the only one staring.
“Sure was. I babysit her for my brother from time to time. He works hard, and being a single dad, I like to give him a break sometimes. She was hounding me about going to the Hungry Hiker. Loves the cake.”
“So do I. So does Hank, for that matter.”
I glance at Hank. “Never met a slice he didn’t like.”
Corinne laughs, and it soothes my soul. “Well, it sounds like your niece has her priorities straight. And I’d love to see this ballerina bear.”
“Sure thing, although we should probably wait for the storm to pass.”
Corinne nods. She’s been a little jumpy each time thunder booms or the lights flicker. I forget that she’s not from around here. Not used to the kinds of storms we get in Whispering Winds, especially up on the mountain.
“And I’ll need to check on my car tomorrow, too. I have a lot of camera equipment in there, and if it’s damaged, I’m screwed.”
“Not a problem. Still up for seeing the mountain?”
She smiles. “Of course. Still have another free day until the wedding.”
Her face falls for a moment, but then she turns.
“How many weddings have you done now?”
“Too many to count,” she says with a sigh. “All done.” Corinne brings the cutting board toward me. “Where do you want them?”
I nod to the stove. “Toss ‘em all into the pot.”