Chapter 6
Maverick
After Belle had eaten a few bites of toast and kept it down, I told her to get some rest, then went outside to check on my crew. Once I was satisfied they were fine without me, I headed inside to start the soup.
When the customer had approached me this morning and asked why the store wasn't open yet, I was immediately worried. I’d figured something had to be wrong for her not to show up for work.
When she didn't respond to my knock, I panicked. Thankfully, I had a key to the stairwell, and someone had left a spare key over her door.
I was almost relieved when I realized it was a stomach virus. I could handle that. I'd cleaned up plenty of my brother’s puke when they would drink too much when we were younger.
I wanted to help her feel better, so the shower was the first order of business. While she was cleaning up, I changed her sheets and checked the pantry. She didn't have much stocked for an illness, but she'd just moved in.
At the grocery store, I argued with myself in every aisle.
I told myself I should drop off the food and leave.
I didn't need to stick around and make sure she ate.
But I couldn't seem to walk away, especially when I checked on her and she was sleeping.
A sense of tenderness came over me, and I wanted to be the one to take care of her.
I’d ensure she was on the mend, and then get back to supervising my crew. But I could see what they were doing through the window, and they'd text if they needed anything. I wasn't far away if there was a problem, and I could pop down at any time.
When I called Aspen, she was more than happy to help. She mentioned that she wanted to talk to Belle about a part-time job anyway.
I was happy that she could help out in a pinch. The only reason that I was able to keep Belle in bed was because Aspen was downstairs working in her store.
Aspen: How's Belle?
Maverick: She napped and ate a few bites of toast.
Aspen: So you're going to work?
Maverick: I'm cooking soup.
Aspen: Wait a minute. Are you seeing Belle?
Maverick: What? No. Why would you think that?
Aspen: Guys don't take care of women they aren't into.
Maverick: Nice guys do.
Then I realized my mistake.
Aspen: No one's ever accused you of being one of those.
Maverick: Watch it. I can still come down there and remind you that I'm bigger and stronger than you.
Aspen: You wouldn't dare.
And she knew I wouldn't. I was just giving her a hard time.
Aspen: This is an interesting development.
Maverick: I don't think Belle has anyone to take care of her.
If she did, wouldn't she have kicked me out? Told me her mother or a friend was coming?
Aspen: I'm not sure her parents are the warm and fuzzy type.
I didn't know much about Belle's home life.
All I knew was that her family's home was really nice, probably upper-middle class, and that her parents drove luxury vehicles.
Belle wore name brands like the other girls in her friend group, and she'd said that she didn't need to worry about paying for college.
I'd tagged her as the spoiled rich girl, but maybe she wasn't rich in the ways that mattered.
If I was sick, I'd have my mom and my sister, if not a couple of brothers, in my house, driving me crazy.
But Belle hadn't said anything about someone being there for her.
It was almost like she was used to going it alone.
Hell, she wanted to go downstairs and work, and she probably would have if I hadn't stepped in.
She wasn't someone who let others do things for her. Maybe I'd misjudged her. But I wasn't ready to lower that wall yet because my reality hadn't changed. Belle was too good for me.
Too many people in school had told me I wouldn't amount to anything if I didn't shape up. And then when I'd gone into trade work, I'm sure people suspected I wasn't smart enough for college.
I'd done a number on my grades over the years with my indifference. I couldn't turn things around in time to apply for colleges.
But I made a good living and was creating a reputation for myself. I enjoyed owning a business and calling the shots. The creative side of it fulfilled me in a way that getting in trouble never did.
"What are you doing?" Belle's voice was a little stronger than when I'd woken her from a nap.
She stood by the island, wearing my sweatshirt, the one I'd given her when she was cold. I cleared my throat, pulling out a stool. "Sit."
For once, she easily complied. That was an indication of how she was feeling. "Are you cooking soup?"
I nodded, determined not to ask why she was wearing my hoodie. There was the other issue that I kind of liked to see her in it. It satisfied some primal part of me. "You need to eat so you can feel better."
She raised a brow. "I guess I'm surprised you cook."
"I'm a single man living alone. Why? You don't?" I deflected easily.
She shrugged. "When I have to."
She was quiet for a few seconds while I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice, then water. I placed it in front of her. I couldn't seem to stop taking care of her. Her skin was still pale, her eyes red, and her hair mussed from laying in bed after her shower.
She wrapped her fingers around the glass. "You didn't have to stick around."
"I thought we already talked about why. You're in no position to take care of yourself."
She sighed. "I would have managed."
"I don't see anyone else here," I said carefully, a little afraid of probing into her personal life.
We weren't friends. We might have flirted once upon a time, but we clearly hadn't learned much about each other beyond surface level stuff.
And as a teenager, I'd been motivated mainly by my attraction to her.
She rolled her shoulders back, as if she was bracing herself. "My mother is not the type to take care of someone while they're sick."
"So your mom isn't the caring type—" I prompted, hoping to learn more.
She grimaced. "And my friends from high school aren't either."
I leaned against the counter, facing her. "I didn't think they were."
She grimaced. "You knew that in high school?"
I tipped my head to the side. "That group you hung out with? Yeah, they cared more about what brand of clothing they were wearing than being good people. They seemed to go out of their way to exclude others."
She bit her lip. "I wasn't part of picking on anyone. I usually read during lunch and stayed out of the gossip. I assumed we were closer than we were."
"Those girls were all about status. They probably assumed you were rich because of what you wore and gravitated toward that." Too late, I realized how that sounded. "But what do I know about girls' relationships?"
She looked away. "No. you're right. It just took me too long to figure that out."
"And you haven't made other friends over the years?"
"I have college friends, but they don't live here. When I moved home, I tried reaching out to old friends, but they haven't matured."
I didn't like hearing that she didn't have anyone.
"The shop owners have been nice. I think they could be friends. But I'm a little more cautious about that sort of thing now."
"I bet." She'd hung out with the mean girls in school, and she probably found it difficult to trust people.
"But that doesn't mean I expected you to show up here this morning."
"I was worried about you."
She finally cracked a smile. "I guess passing out on the floor will cause that reaction."
"It's not really a big deal to buy some groceries."
She turned slightly, taking in the living room where I'd spent most of the day. "Did you unpack my books?"
I rubbed my neck, worried about her reaction. "I'm sure I didn't organize them how you'd like. You own a bookstore, so you probably arrange them alphabetically or by author."
She smiled softly. "That was really nice of you."
"I was bored and figured you were busy with the store. It wasn't a big deal."
She gave me a look that said it was a huge deal to her. "I appreciate everything you've done. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"If you ever find me puking, you can make me soup."
She smiled wider. "I can do that, but I don't know where you live. It's not like I'd ever be close enough to you to provide that kind of help. And you have so much family in the area. I'm sure you wouldn't need me to step in."
"I'm sure we'll think of something." I had a few ideas for when she was better, like getting on her knees in one of her librarian outfits and sucking me off. But that came with its own set of complications. When she wasn't sick and weak, we didn't get along.
I could concede that was mainly my fault. I hadn't made it easy on her. It was a defense mechanism and self-preservation. If I pushed her away and picked at all of her perceived faults, then I couldn't get close to her. I wouldn't act on my attraction.
It was working, but I hadn't counted on seeing her so vulnerable. It had made me think of her in a different light, as a woman who lived alone and who admittedly didn't have much of a support system.
To keep my hands busy and my eyes off her, I got out a cutting board and cut into a loaf of crusty bread I'd gotten to go with the soup.
I shouldn't offer to stay and eat dinner with her, but I'd cooked, and it was the polite thing to do.
I'd leave after I ate though. I'd say she needed her rest. Then tomorrow we'd go back to how we were before.
I wouldn't remember how she looked when she was sleeping in bed this morning, so relaxed. How her nipples were visible under her T-shirt when she'd sat up. She'd been so soft and vulnerable. Nothing like the woman I usually encountered, the one that could handle herself and anything I threw at her.
This woman was more open with me. I really liked her, and that was a problem. I'd steered clear of her because of something like this. I couldn't afford to get close. She'd always been my weakness.
I was supposed to go for girls who dressed more provocatively and did reckless things, like ride motorcycles or pick up men at bars.
But instead, I was attracted to her, the sexy librarian who had her nose in a book, who wore glasses when she read to kids, and whose dream it was to open a bookstore where people could congregate.
I set the thick slices of bread on a platter I found in the cabinet, then checked the soup. I lifted the lid and stirred. "It's ready if you want to eat."
"It smells good. I think I could eat."
I poured two bowls, placing one in front of her. I handed her a slice of bread, and she immediately dipped it in the broth. I set the second bowl next to her. She didn't say anything about me sticking around or eating her soup.
Her lips pursed. "I hope you don't get sick."
I winked at her, and her face flushed. "I'll know who to call if I do. You owe me nursemaid services."
She nodded seriously as if it was an even trade. "That's fair."
I was getting much more out of this situation than I anticipated. I was discovering who she was inside.
I sat on the stool next to her, reaching for a piece of bread. "You're nicer than my siblings. They'd grumble about how I needed to suck it up and get over myself. I can hear them now."
She chuckled, and I couldn't take my eyes away from her. I hadn't seen her laugh at something I said since we were teens flirting in the school hallways. It felt good to make her laugh.
"If you're not close to your family, and you don't have friends in town, why did you open your store in Christmas Town?"
She sobered. "I was close to my grandmother, and she died a few months ago."
"I'm sorry." I hadn't realized that her grandmother had died.
She shook her head. "She gave me the money to open the shop. This location seemed perfect. There was room to expand, and it was right on the corner. I could see myself there."
"I guess we didn't talk about our families when we were teens. I didn't know that you were close to your grandmother and not your parents."
She smiled shyly. "I think we were too busy talking about other things, books I'd read or music you liked. We didn't spend that much time together that we'd have time to delve deep."
And that was my fault. I took it to the next level, then bailed. "I don't think I ever officially apologized for standing you up."
She stilled. "That's not necessary—"
"You keep saying that, but I think it is. I knew we weren't right for each other, but there were better ways to handle it. I should have told you that I didn't want to see you instead of standing you up. It was inconsiderate."
She bit her lip and sighed heavily. "I'm not sure that apology would have been received any better had you given it then. We were young."
"I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry for that.
I don't have an excuse except I freaked out.
My friends saw me talking to you and gave me a hard time for being with—" They'd called her an ice queen, said she'd never put out.
But I wasn't concerned about that. It was the idea that we were too different.
I had no business being with her. "Someone who was the opposite of me.
I got into a lot of trouble back then. I wasn't good for you.
I didn't want to drag you down with me."
She was quiet for a few seconds and then said, "I appreciate the apology."
I hadn't planned on apologizing. I figured it was better to be the jerk she expected than to do anything else, but I'd seen her in a different light today. I couldn't keep my walls up when she was sick. "It doesn't excuse what I did. My mom taught my brothers and me better than that."
"We all make mistakes."
She was more gracious than I probably would have been in the same circumstances, which only reinforced my belief that she was a better person than me.
I'd taken care of her when she was sick, but it didn't change anything. She still wasn't the woman for me.