Chapter 10 Maverick
MAVERICK
Booney carrying my drunk ass across the street is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole entire life.
He didn’t even break a sweat.
He was also such a gentleman with the placement of his hands and the careful way he set me down. Trying so hard to keep things appropriate.
Fuck that, obviously.
If the universe is gonna dump my sexy supercrush in my lap, I’m gonna go there. As soon as the world stops spinning.
I just need a fixed point.
Booney’s lips should do quite nicely.
Oh wow. They are sooo pretty. His bottom lip is fuller than the top. How did I not notice that before?
He’s also got a barely there scar, and it gives it a slight pillowy effect. It’s the first thing I noticed at summer camp.
What was I saying?
Oh yeah. Supercrush.
Thoughts and consequences scatter like responsibilities. I lean in and touch my lips to Booney’s.
Mm. So soft. Softer than I imagined.
Sweet tobacco.
Strong arms, tightening around my waist, like a reflex.
Please, Boone.
With a groan in the back of his throat, he returns the kiss.
Deepens it. Not my imagination.
Bodies pressed against each other, hot and hard.
Better and safer and more passionate than anything in the whole world.
Booney is kissing me…until he’s not.
No.
I trail after him as he pulls away.
“Shit,” he says, wiping his mouth, his eyes wide.
“Booney, come back,” I whine, and go in for another kiss.
My lips hit the palm of his hand. This never happens to me.
He leans back, shaking his head. “You’re intoxicated.”
His words are so soft, said without any judgment. And he looks like he regrets stopping as much as I do.
A lot of folks I sleep with just wanna be able to say that they fucked the Maverick. That’s not a complaint—I’m clearly getting laid out of the deal. But one of the reasons I drink so little is because so many people in Boone’s position would gladly take advantage without a second thought.
His respect for my compromised state is the sexiest thing he’s done all night.
Boone rolls his shoulders, then holds out a hand. “Keys?”
Damn, he’d look so sexy in a properly fitted designer tux.
Possibly standing at the end of a very long aisle.
“Maverick? Keys?”
Aw, poor guy.
He’s trying to move beyond The Kiss, but there will never be any moving on from The Kiss. That he kissed me back is etched in my brain, a permanent exhibit.
Before he can repeat himself, I hold up my arm. “I’ve got a proximity bracelet.”
It’s black titanium with a core of…whatever starts a car. “My dad’s an engineer, and he got mad when I left my keys in Australia.” Or was it Austria? “Anyway, he made a bracelet that does the same thing.”
I flop into the passenger seat, with Booney trying to control the fall.
Adorable.
“Your dad’s really smart,” he says, closing the door.
“Yeah. He is.” I watch, fascinated as he crosses in front of my car, all sleek muscles and effortless striding. I wait till he opens the door to say, “Too bad he got such a dumbass for a son, right?”
Boone purses his lips, reaching across to put on my seatbelt. “Don’t do that. Don’t call yourself that.”
Ugh, my heart.
For some reason, I remember that Uncle Tolly owns an island in the Caribbean.
Maybe we could have our ceremony on the beach.
“I’m not kidding, Maverick,” he says, the emphasis weird on my name.
Like maybe he wanted to call me Rune again.
I don’t hate it.
“Fine, but have you read about my cousins?” I ask, settling into the seat.
“They took their SATs when they were fourteen and aced them. Hell, the only reason my lying identical twin didn’t graduate from the US Naval Academy is because he got recruited to some special ops thing in his softer year.
Meanwhile, I washed out after one semester. ”
Softer? No. Soft…more.
Sophomore.
Boone shakes his head. “Not everyone needs college. Besides, you’re never supposed to judge yourself by outliers. That’s what my dad always said, and he’s the smartest man I know. And he doesn’t have a degree either.”
There’s a quiet confidence to his words, and I find myself believing him.
Except…
“What happens, though, if you’re from a family of outliers?” I ask, rubbing my wrists, the echo of his cuffs ghosting the delicate skin. “What if they lie about important things to protect you because they don’t believe in you?”
“The presence of outliers and liars doesn’t mean you’re a dumbass.”
“Even though I just let myself get roophied?”
He turns to me, his features sharp.
Sexy.
“You didn’t let yourself get fucking roophied,” he insists, jamming the Start button. “You can’t always know when some dickwad has his sights on you.” The engine roars to life and he yanks on his seat belt, then hits the blinker. “Is there any way you can find out what he gave you?”
I pull up my phone and send Pierce one last text.
Me: What was in that flask? I only had maybe two sips before I got completely wasted.
Pierce: Nothing. You just can’t hold your liquor.
I show Boone his response, and Boone curses as he pulls onto the empty street. “What a dick.”
Only then do the consequences of what could’ve happened finally filter through my addled mind, and suddenly, I feel really fucking lonely.
“Shit. He wasn’t looking to take no for an answer,” I mumble.
“No, he wasn’t.” Boone glares out the windshield. “Based on his history, he likes to remove ‘no’ from the conversation entirely.”
We make the rest of the trip in silence. Sobering quickly, I wonder how it is that I found myself in the company of two predators—plus my future husband—all in the same twenty-four hours.
As Boone pulls up to the building, my twin is standing on the sidewalk, looking every bit the special ops agent. I curse, realizing that I forgot to respond to his texts or even tell him I’d come back early.
Whatever. I’m still mad at him for the whole Truett-kidnappy-secret family business thing.
Holmes sees my car and his hand goes to his chest, relief marking his handsome—if I do say so myself—features.
It doesn’t surprise me that he’s waiting for me. I am surprised, however, to see that he’s accompanied by one of my favorite people in the world.
Uncle Hopper, who has never once lied to me.
I roll down the window. “Hop, Hoppy, Hopperrrrr!”
Boone straightens beside me and follows my line of sight. “Your uncle is here?”
“Yesss! Come say hiiii!” I open the door and tumble out onto the sidewalk.
“Is that Boone?” Hopper asks as Holmes rushes over to pick me up off the very rude concrete.
“Boo-neee,” I correct, enunciating very clearly.
Boone gets out of the car and has a hastily whispered conversation with Holmes and Uncle Hopper.
“…you should know that… Pretty sure he’s okay…”
Holmes nods along, his jawline tightening with each passing second.
Uncle Hopper’s eyes do that crazy thing they do. “…where he fucking lives…”
“…very next thing…”
“…this fucker’s name. Now.”
More furious whispering while Holmes shoots off a series of text messages. Oof. He’s probably texting Uncle Jake to get information on Pierce, which makes me feel sorry for that asshole.
Not.
Holmes tilts his head, scanning me from head to toe. He then tells Boone, “I’ll take Mav upstairs. Hop, you mind driving the good detective home?”
Boone waves him off. “It’s after two. I can get a rideshare.”
Hopper shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
I take off my bracelet and give it to my uncle. “Drive safe.”
He slides on the bracelet and sends me a sweet look. “Will do, nibling.”
I love my uncle.
Turning to Boone, I tap my phone to his. He shakes his head, blushing.
When no one’s looking, he taps my phone back. Now we have each other’s contact information.
Confronting the car, Boone rocks forward, then back, hesitating before getting in on the passenger side.
He wasn’t nervous when it was just me.
Oh right.
I forgot that Hopper’s, like, this world-famous artist, and Boone is, like, his biggest fan.
Maybe I can have Hopper do something nice for him.
Boone and I lock gazes for a few seconds, and he raises his hand in a sort of wave before taking off. I pout, sad to see him go.
Bye, Booney.
“Come inside,” Holmes demands. “Maya’s going to examine you while you tell me why you cut your trip to Switzerland short.”
Great. My doctor cousin and black-ops brother are ganging up on me now.
Ugh. Why does everyone act like I can’t take care of myself?