Chapter 3 Maverick #2
Pushing open the front door with my boot, I close it gently. The evening air’s thick with heat and the soft hum of cicadas. Gravel crunches beneath my boots as I walk across the driveway. My Bronco is parked there, waiting, its metallic green chrome catching the last rays of sunset.
I open the passenger door, set Cupcake on the seat, and she quickly climbs up onto the dash, barking.
I huff out a laugh, shake my head, then go around the hood, boots crunching on gravel.
The driver’s side door squeaks as I open it, and I slide into the driver’s seat, leather creaking under my weight.
The engine roars to life with that deep, throaty growl that never fails to hit me in the chest. I roll the window down, letting the warm air rush in, my arm hanging loosely on the frame. Cupcake leans into the breeze, ears flapping, tongue lolling as if she were made for joyrides.
We hit the road, the Bronco eating up the miles between my place and Carter’s. Fields stretch wide on either side, fences blurring past, sky bleeding pink and gold with the sunset.
I pull into Carter’s driveway, the horizon painting his pasture in pink and orange hues. His ranch comes into view, with the worn-down red barn, cows grazing lazily in the distance, and horses grazing in the pasture.
I cut the engine, the sudden silence enveloping me. Cupcake yips, pawing at the window, her tail wacking the leather seat.
“Yeah, yeah,” I chuckle, grabbing her as I step out. My boots hit the gravel, and the air is full of hay, summer, and the faint smell of woodsmoke. “Let’s go see the family.”
I don’t bother knocking. Knocking’s for strangers, and I’m family.
The screen door squeaks as I yank it open, Cupcake squirming in my arms.
“QB1 is in the building, baby!” I holler, striding straight into Carter’s living room. “Hide your wife, hide your snacks, and somebody give me a hug!”
Carter’s voice comes from the kitchen, low and gruff. “Jesus Christ, Maverick.”
Catalina pops her head around the corner, her eyes lighting up the second she spots the dog. “CUPCAKE!” She comes running, arms out, ignoring me completely as she snatches the puppy from my hold. “Look at you, sweet girl.”
Mortally wounded as my sister-in-law ignores me, I canvass their house, analyzing every little thing the newlyweds have done with the place.
It smells like Bath and Body Works exploded in here. The intertwining scents of vanilla, matcha, and the faintest smell of brown sugar invade my senses.
The reclaimed wood beams are still intact, along with the same stone fireplace and leather couches, but now the place has lavender throw pillows with scandalous quotes, a neon sign above the kitchen arch that reads “Kiss the Cook,” and lavender-scented candles burning on every flat surface.
She also forced him to remodel their guest bathroom because she said it was ugly.
Don’t even get me started on his shrine of pictures of Catalina in a boudoir photoshoot. Talk about obsessed.
I wanna be obsessed with my wife; I’d be such a good boy.
Carter’s still standing at his wooden kitchen counter, wearing a plain black tee, worn Wranglers, and his gold wedding band on display. No cowboy hat today, just his dark brown hair disheveled and pushed back.
His back is towards me, his muscles flexing as he whisks matcha for his precious wife.
It’s always matcha. His wife has him fully trained.
I want to be at my wife’s beck and call.
My eyes find Catalina, who’s now curled up on the couch, with her leg tucked beneath her, as Cupcake, the fifteen-pound menace, is curled in her lap, wearing a tiny pink bow.
She’s tossing a ball up and down in one hand while scrolling on her phone with the other.
“Guess what?” I blurt, nearly tripping over my own excitement as I enter the living room. “Amelia said yessss.”
“To what?” Catalina asks, still paying attention to Cupcake.
“To come here, next week, to see me.”
Carter doesn’t look up as he continues to froth the matcha. “God help us.”
“She told me not to be late, I can’t fuck up,” I say, throwing myself on the couch next to Catalina.
Catalina snorts. “You showed up three hours late to Reed’s birthday dinner because you got distracted looking at fireflies.”
“That was one time,” I say, playfully pushing her. “This is different. I need it to be perfect. She hates me, but not like regular hate. Like... attraction-hate. Right?”
“She’s definitely plotting your death,” Catalina offers with a sweet smile, scratching behind Cupcake’s ears.
I run both hands down my face. “What do I do?”
“Maybe start by not being an idiot,” Carter mutters, rinsing out the whisk.
“I’m serious,” I say, playing with the string on the seam of my jeans. “I need this to go well, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
Catalina’s already nodding. “Okay, just don’t overdo it, and keep it simple.”
“Should I stock her favorite snacks?”
“Um, duh.”
“Great,” I say, dragging my hand through my hair. “She probably still thinks I’m a weasel.”
“She agreed to come,” she replies, “and that means she’s curious.”
Carter cuts in. “Why is she even coming to see you, out of all people?”
Catalina snorts. “Yeah, why is she coming?”
“I miss her?” I say too quickly.
Before I can say something else, Cater interjects.
“Keep your shirt on for once, don’t scare the poor girl,” Carter mutters, handing Catalina her iced matcha as he kisses the top of her head.
I point at him, chuckling. “Don’t act like you weren’t shirtless when you first met Catalina.”
“Yeah,” he says, sitting next to Catalina. “But I was in my house, she was my guest, and she liked what she saw.”
Catalina giggles, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.
I roll my eyes. “I just don’t want to screw it up,” I say, quieter now. “I really like her.”
They both go still for a second.
Carter scoffs. “You barely know her.”
“So,” I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually cared this much about someone who wasn’t related to me.”
Catalina studies me for a second, then nods. “Okay, then just show her who you are when you’re not trying to be anyone else. That version of you... He’s not bad.”
I exhale through my nose and rub the back of my neck.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “I’ll go... do something productive now.”
Carter’s already halfway to the sink again when he says under his breath, “Idiot.”
I flip him off on the way out. Cupcake follows me, tail wagging, probably thinking we’re going on another walk.
“Yeah, c’mon girl. Let’s go clean up the mess.”