Chapter 19
SADIE
When Maverick walks out of the bathroom after his shower, there’s a strange expression on his face.
“Are you okay?” I ask, making my way over to him, concern mounting that his injury is acting up or something.
He won’t meet my gaze but gives a sharp nod. “You…you left something in there.” His clipped words are followed by him walking swiftly into the bedroom and closing the door.
Baffled, I peer in the bathroom. “Oh crap!” I hastily snatch the bra off the towel rack.
Oh my God. My face is aflame with mortification.
How could I have forgotten that? I’ve only just started to come to grips with admitting my full-blown attraction to the man.
To myself, that is. Every night since the baseball game, where I finally saw him in his element, I’ve lain awake, tossing and turning, unable to stop my mind from fantasizing about the beautifully broken man sleeping out on the couch.
I guess it makes sense that with the lack of sleep, I’d eventually do something stupid, like forget my bra in the bathroom when I showered after finishing work earlier today.
I’d changed into my workout wear and done some yoga in the living room while Maverick finished whatever he was doing at the stadium.
He came home as I was starting to prepare dinner, and after a grunt hello, he headed straight into the bathroom. He was in there a long time, long enough for me to finish prepping dinner with the exception of adding some sliced avocado to the salad.
Now I’m stuck standing in the hallway with a maroon-coloured lace bra in hand, anxiously waiting for him to come out of the bedroom so I can put it away. And possibly suffocate some screams of embarrassment in the pillows.
He opens the door, and his gaze lands on the bra I’m clutching to my chest. Then, slowly, he drags it up to my face.
We face off. Right there, in the hallway outside the bedroom.
I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears, feel the heat rising within me, and the urge to kiss him growing.
What would he do, I wonder? Would he push me away, or would he hold me in those strong arms. Would he plunder my mouth, taking it further than we have so far, with our chaste kisses just for show.
When he opens his mouth, I lean forward. Only to have a metaphorical bucket of cold water dumped over my head.
“Colin’s coming over to talk about your gala this weekend and what happens after that.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, that’s all I manage to say. Oh. Then he’s brushing past me and heading toward the kitchen. Apparently, we’re ignoring the bra incident.
I hurry to put the offending item away and take several slow, deep breaths.
He’s not interested in me that way, clearly.
Everyone says Maverick is reckless and impulsive.
And by everyone, I mean the media, Willow, and, well, him.
I know there’s more to it than that, but if he were even the slightest bit attracted to me, wouldn’t his reckless and impulsive nature have him acting on it by now?
Clearly, whatever I feel is one-sided. And any actions I think of as him reciprocating is not that at all. Maybe I’m just so starved for affection and attention after having my heart battered by Dirk, I’m seeing things. That must be it.
By the time I walk back out to the kitchen, Maverick’s on the couch with Cat in his lap, purring loudly.
Ignoring him, I go to the kitchen to finish dishing out dinner.
It’s weird he’s not standing here, insisting on helping like he has every other night, but I guess bra-gate has him needing some space.
Heck, maybe he took one look at my bra and lost his appetite. It might be lacy, but it’s also not exactly small. It can’t be to contain my generous breasts. Maybe the stark evidence that I’m not a size two was enough to make him need space.
Except he’s not like that. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. Maverick’s not the kind of man to judge on appearances, or size, or anything like that. Not when he himself has been judged unfairly for so long.
“Ouch!” I cry out, so lost in thought I managed to slip while slicing the avocado and cut myself instead. Blood is welling up as I move to the sink to rinse my hand, and then he’s there.
“What happened?” His voice sounds worried as his arms wrap around me from behind, crowding me against the sink as he gently takes my hand out from under the cold water to inspect it. “Shit, Specs. What did you do?”
I want to push back against him, move him away from me. But I also want to sink into the protective, caring hold. This is why I can’t focus. Because, for the life of me, I can’t make sense of this man’s actions.
“I wasn’t paying attention. The knife slipped. I’ll be fine,” I say as Maverick tears off some paper towel and wraps it around my finger. He’s still gently clasping it in his hand as he turns off the tap and moves to my side.
“Let’s go get it cleaned up and make sure you don’t need stitches.”
I try to protest as he holds my hand in his, wrapping his free arm around my waist as if he’s worried I might faint or something, and walks slowly to the bathroom.
“Maverick, it’s just a little cut, honestly. It doesn’t need stitches.”
But my attempts at reassuring him that I’m fine are ignored as he sits me down on the closed toilet seat and lifts my hand in the air, giving me a look that tells me I’m to keep it there. I heave a sigh and prop my elbow on the counter.
He crouches down, removing a first aid kit from under the sink, opening it with a fierce concentration. I can’t help but stare in amazement at his gentle caregiving as he pulls out gauze, bandages, and some plastic vials of liquid.
“Okay. Let’s take off the paper towel and see what we’re dealing with,” he says softly. When he glances up, there’s nothing but concern and compassion in his eyes, and it floors me to see this side of him. All I can do is nod.
He’s incredibly careful, unwinding the paper towel to reveal the small cut. An adorable furrow appears between his brows as he turns my finger, prodding lightly. “Good. It’s small, doesn’t seem too deep. We can just clean it and bandage it here. No stitches necessary.”
I resist the urge to tell him I told you so. Because this man, this sweet, kind man who is painstakingly gentle as he breaks the tip off one of the vials and squeezes what I assume is sterile water over the cut, is making it hard for me to formulate a clear thought, let alone talk.
He dabs it dry with gauze before wrapping a bandage around my finger. Then he takes away my ability to breathe.
Lifting my finger, his eyes trained on mine, Maverick presses the lightest of kisses over the bandage. “All good.” His voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper, but I feel it vibrate through my entire body.
“Thank you,” I whisper back.
He shifts away, the space between us making me want to whimper in disappointment. But I let him take a step back, and another. Then I stand up, and with one more little smile, I walk past him, hoping he can’t see just how deep I am in all of my feelings.
Back in the kitchen, I make sure I didn’t drip blood onto any of the food before finishing the salad and dishing everything up. Setting the plates on the counter, I busy myself by pouring glasses of water and setting out cutlery. “Is Colin coming for dinner?”
“No. He just texted that it’ll be an hour before he’s here.”
I can’t bring myself to look at him, instead sitting on the very edge of my seat.
“Sadie.”
My food goes down my throat in a solid lump.
“Yes?”
“Can you look at me?”
I set my fork down and force myself to turn in my seat to face him.
“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. When I…you know.”
“Oh, you didn’t,” I reply breezily, even though I feel anything but. “It’s fine. You were just being kind. Thanks for that, by the way.”
His blue eyes bore into me, and I fight not to squirm under the scrutiny.
“Yeah. No problem.”
It feels like time stands still as I wait to see if he’ll say anything more.
But he doesn’t, turning instead to his meal.
We eat in silence. In fact, the next hour passes in silence.
But it’s charged, somehow. I want so badly to just blurt out the words I like you, I wish this wasn’t fake. But I’m terrified.
When the knock on the door comes, it’s a relief. Maverick opens it with a frown. “Why didn’t you use your key?” he asks as Colin comes into the room.
“Because it’s not just you here, asshole.” He gives me a nod. “Hey Sadie, how’s it going?”
“Fine,” I manage to squeak out. I stand, my hands clasped in front of me. “Can I get you something? Tea, beer, water?”
Maverick looks at me strangely. “He can get his own drink, Specs.”
My face flushes red again. “I know. I was just being polite.”
“Yeah. Polite. It’s a novel concept for you, isn’t it?” Colin shoves Maverick gently, in his good shoulder, at least. “Thanks, Sadie, I’m good. Let’s get down to business. We need to make sure everything’s good for the fundraiser next week.”
“Right,” I say, the word sounding hollow. How has the time passed by so quickly?
“Oh, but I wanted to say, good work on that dinner with the guys from Velocity. They loved meeting Sadie, and I got an email today that they’re sending some sort of package for you.” Colin gives me a wry smile. “If you need representation, you know how to find me.”
“Oh my God,” I murmur. “I swear, I didn’t mean to hijack the conversation or anything, I don’t know why they’re sending anything.”
“Because they think making you happy is the key to keeping Mav happy.” The no-nonsense way in which he says it, and the complete lack of reaction from Maverick, makes Colin’s statement land flat for me.
“It means this is working. Everyone is buying into the idea of Maverick settling down now that he’s with you, and if we can continue to avoid drama, we can secure that contract you want, Mav.” He gives his brother a meaningful look. “Which means not letting Eli suck you into anything.”
Maverick’s gaze darts to me, then back to Colin before hardening. “Got it.”
I want to ask who Eli is, but Maverick’s body language couldn’t be any more clear in saying “don’t go there” so I don’t. I bite my tongue again and add Eli to the long list of things I don’t know about the man I’m living with.
The conversation shifts to the fundraiser itself, with Colin wanting to make sure it’s clear what I’ll have to do that night, and how we can maximize exposure of Maverick playing the doting boyfriend.
Eventually, Colin leaves, and I curl up in the corner of the couch, petting Cat, who comes to sit beside me.
“I’ll be back in a bit.”
I lift my head to see Maverick opening the door, but he’s gone before I can ask where he’s going. Not that it’s any of my business, I know. My head drops back down to the couch, and I let my eyes close, listening to the sound of Cat’s loud purr.
The next thing I know, strong arms are lifting me from the sofa. “Wh-what?” I say sleepily, trying to get my bearings.
“Shh. Go back to sleep.” The deep rumble of Maverick’s voice washes over me, and I feel my body relax. I’m barely conscious when he lays me down on the bed, covering me with a blanket. Then soft lips graze my forehead, and gentle fingers stroke through my hair.
I must be dreaming. That’s the only thing that makes sense, and the only explanation for why I reach for those fingers, pulling on them, mumbling stay.
It’s a good dream. In it, he crawls into the bed beside me, gathers me in his arms, and holds me close. And I sleep deeper than I have in weeks.
But when I slowly blink my eyes open the next morning, feeling more rested than I have in a long time, there’s an indent in the pillow beside me. And the ghost of his arms around my waist still lingers. Leaving me wondering exactly how much of it was a dream…