CHAPTER 3 Charlotte
Charlotte
“Baby girl, you looked like a damn rodeo princess riding that bull!” Quinn wraps her arms around my middle and gives me a little shake as we walk down the street towards the food. “I can’t believe that was your first time riding a bull like that.”
“This actually is my first rodeo,” I beam, then add, “to be fair, I work with horses every day, Q.”
I squeak as she squeezes harder.
To the guys ahead of us, she calls, “Y’all, isn’t my girl just the prettiest thing to ride Brutus?”
Without meaning to, I sneak a peek up to Maverick from behind my wall of hair. I see his eyes taking me in the way a man does when he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are traveling over my body but when his eyes catch mine watching, he winks.
Garrett says, “She is the prettiest thing this town has ever seen.”
Luke slaps Garrett in the stomach, “Aside from yourself, Quinn, ma’am.”
“Smooth, real smooth, Garrett,” Luke admonishes.
They start ribbing each other and walk ahead of us as they play fight.
“She’s right, you know? You looked exceptional on that bull.” Maverick has slowed his pace so that he’s now walking next to me. “So about those tips and tricks.”
I laugh.
“I don’t know what to say, I don’t have any tips for you. I don't think he had it on full force. He let me off easy.”
“Bart’s guys don’t pull punches," he says. "If you say go to ten, they go to ten.”
“Oh.”
I’m kind of shocked, I mean the attendant did ask if I had ever ridden a mechanical bull before. I thought he was just being polite in letting me go the full eight seconds. But then the realization sets in that Maverick only went six seconds and I start grinning.
Boy is built. Long legs encased in denim that hugs his really, really toned thighs just right. The sleeves of his chambray shirt are rolled up, showing corded muscle. His hands and muscled arms are veiny. God, I’m such a slut for veiny hands. And he’s tall—a few inches well over six foot.
Deep blue eyes peer back at me, like sapphires glistening in the sunshine. His curly hair is a honey brown that’s been lightened by the sun at the tips. Unlike Garrett and Luke, he’s not in a cowboy hat. But it doesn’t take much imagining to see what he would look like with one on…sexy as hell.
“Why are you grinning like a fiend?” He takes a step back and feigns shock, “Should I be frightened?”
I stutter, “No reason.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me. I already know,” he smirks.
“You do not.”
“You’re thinking that I purposefully bucked myself off so I could let you seem like a natural. Right?”
I let out a full belly laugh. “That is exactly what I was thinking! You’ve got me figured out.”
We walk in silence for a moment. Then snap my head towards Luke is giggling like a schoolgirl at something Quinn's said.
She's mentioned him—that lives in town, owns a construction company, and goes into the bookstore sometimes to get books for his mom and Nana. That’s cute as hell.
She deserves to have someone kind be interested in her.
I can recognize the signs of loneliness. I see them often enough when I look in the mirror.
Breaking the silence, Maverick coughs and asks, ”Have you been in Silver Rapids long?”
“No. Almost six months or so.”
Maverick doesn’t pry, and I leave it at that.
I don’t want to share too much with anyone.
Even in small towns where I haven’t stayed more than a few weeks or a month at a time, I haven’t shared too much about myself with anyone.
Whenever anyone asked about where I was going or traveling I would answer, "Just on a summer break.
" or "Going on a cross-country trip." Nothing that would give too much away. It’s been ten months since leaving Boston. Since leaving my whole life behind.
Ten months of looking over my shoulder.
We get to the food stands and try to decide which line we’re going to get in first.
I ask Maverick, “You’re from here?”
“Yeah, my dad was in the Army as a pilot, thus the name,” He gestures to himself.
“I was born in North Carolina and we moved here when I was two. We didn’t move around a lot like most Army families though, Dad was already on his way out when my mom got pregnant.
Then I was born and he wanted out." A pause before he continues, "His family’s from here.”
“This place is kind of great. Everyone is so nice and friendly. I’ve never lived anywhere like it. It’s something out of a movie.”
“I can see how it seems that way. But when everyone knows your grandparents’ names and what you did the night before, before your parents have even yelled at you the next morning, it can be a bit, uh, stifling.”
I never thought of it that way. I had more than two thousand kids in my high school. I don’t think there are even that many people in the whole town.
I get the feeling that he’s not a fan of this topic and just as I'm about to ask about where he currently lives, Quinn comes bounding towards us.
“Ma’am, if I asked you to dance with me would you say ‘yes’?” she asks.
“There’s no music playing.”
“Well, no, not right now. But Luke was saying that it’s Caleb’s bachelor party—and how we could go to Bart’s bar and help them celebrate. He said they wanted to do karaoke, then there’s a band playing after. Not just the jukebox.”
“Q, it’s a bachelor party. We shouldn’t impose. Let the guys have their fun.”
Maverick interjects, “Caleb won't mind. Kennedy is joining us after her shift at the cafe in an hour or so."
Turns out I have met Caleb’s fiancé before. Kennedy works at the café next to the bookstore. She’s been nice to me every time Quinn and I stop in for food during one of Quinn’s shifts or on the weekend for brunch.
“Yes!" Quinn exclaims. "And Caleb was saying she doesn’t have anyone to celebrate with so really…”
”Eh, okay, sure. I’ll let you push me around the dance floor.”
She gives me a kiss on the cheek and bounces back to the group ahead of us. If I hadn’t been with her the whole time, I could have sworn she was sneaking sips out of a flask or something. Our last drink was a good two hours ago.
“She’s got good energy,” I say to Maverick.
Watching Luke and her closely, Maverick says, “Luke looks like he’s really turning on the charm for your friend.
You should watch out for that one, not in a bad way.
He just tends to be a lady killer and doesn’t typically like anything serious.
But he’ll be a great guy for the right one—when he finds her. ”
Did he just warn me as an out for his friend or was he just being that honest?
I take a minute to look into his dark blue eyes. There’s no malice in what he’s saying. The eyes are what betray people. They can master body language and try to hide their tells, but someone’s eyes give away that they’re hiding something. I learned that playing poker at my father's country club.
“Thank you for that," I say.
“For what?”
“Being honest.”
“How can you tell?”
“You have kind eyes. The eyes tell you everything you need to know.”
Maverick doesn’t say anything right away but I can see the gears turning. He probably thinks I’m crazy.
“I agree with your theory.”
“It’s a good one,” I say as I meet his gaze.
We get to the lemonade stand that also sells candy apples and cotton candy with bags that are as big as my arm. Two perfect alternating layers of pink and blue sugary clouds. I know cotton candy is just spun sugar, but I love it.
He said he was buying my time with sweets. I know it was in jest, but I don’t like owing anyone anything. “So about the cotton candy and drinks. You don’t owe me anything, it’s just all in good fun.”
“I know. But, Charlotte, I’d be honored if you let me buy you copious amounts of dyed sugar disguised as food.” He says in a way dripping with sarcasm and a hint of something else. His gaze is so piercing.
“Hey!” I say.
He smiles and elbows me. I don’t know why I share this but I find myself saying, “I wasn’t allowed to have this stuff growing up.
My parents forbade any sugary substance in the house.
Now though, if I want something indulgent, I get it.
And, I appreciate the offer, but I can get my own copious amounts of sugar. ”
Quinn and the guys put their orders in, the step to the side allowing us to place ours.
“The lady will have the big bag of cotton candy.” He turns to me, “What to drink?”
Huffing, I put my hands on my hips, “A small lemonade, please.”
He grins at me and I return it. He turns back to the window and the young girl taking our order is eyeing Maverick up and down like he’s a treat she could devour. Same, girl, same.
He's got an ease and way about him, even if he is stubborn.
She asks, “And for you?”
“Just water, please. Thank you.” He slips her twenty-five dollars, “Keep the change.”
“Thank you,” I say to him and I mean it. I don’t expect anything from anybody. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says, smiling.
She hands our drinks, bats her lashes at Maverick, and gives him the giant bag of spun sugary goodness.
He's about to hand me my bag when he looks at me and must see the absolute delight written across my face. He cocks his head and smirks, “You look like that one woman who was a game show contestant and ate the whole cotton candy cone in less than two seconds.”
I fake indignation at his comment, “You don’t know me, I am very competitive, I could take her.”
“I just bet you could.”
I open the bag and pull out a fluff and bite into it giving a little moan as we walk down through the stalls and I notice more than a few people stop to glare at us.
I look down at myself and while the titties are tittying, I’m covered.
We pass another table and notice that they’re not looking at me but at Maverick. Why though?
I give his sleeve a little tug at the elbow to quietly get his attention and whisper, “Hey. Is it just me or are folks staring at you?”