Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.”
— HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
M oonlight Valley looked the same as ever. It hadn’t grown magically larger. It was the same sleepy, solitary Main Street with a handful of businesses with bad puns for names. There was the diner, the grocery store, and the hardware store. Wyatt’s bookstore, The Pink Parts. Vanity Fur Salon. And yet somehow, even though I was the newest newcomer of them all (except, obviously, for Elena), it felt strangely like coming home.
It was early, not much past our usual shooting start times. We’d left right after the premiere and even before the after-party had wrapped. I’d even slept on the plane, which was a minor miracle. We’d all put our phones in airplane mode and just passed out. But now that I was so close, I just wanted to be there. There being in Maverick’s arms. I’d missed my big guy, and I still had to tell him about my red-carpet revelation. Avalyn had mentioned dropping her footage later today, so I was short on time. Elena was twitching because she hadn’t been able to get any internet service since London. It was killing her to disconnect.
We arrived with more speed than I’d dared hope for, thanks to Spike getting carsick. He’d announced this condition as Eric drove us rapidly from one mountain switchback to another. This had compelled Eric to drive even faster, as there was no place to pull off. No one wanted to witness Spike’s misery firsthand, so we’d skidded into Moonlight Valley fast enough to make Sheriff Jacob frown and stroke his mustache.
Spike promptly bolted out of the SUV and began upchucking his burrito into a planter outside of The Pink Parts. The planter held a collection of ferns and flowering shade plants. Hopefully, Spike’s sensitive stomach wouldn’t cause Cystopteris carnage. The good news was that ferns were perennials. Green, leafy, and they usually came back after a hard winter—but they weren’t immortal.
The rest of us climbed out with greater dignity. I slipped an arm around Elena’s shoulders. She was holding her phone up and trying to get a signal.
“This place is medieval.” She glared down at her phone, stabbing at it. “There is NO reception.”
I glanced at the bookstore, smiling to myself. “You know, I think The Pink Parts gets reception. I might be able to give you the wi-fi password.”
She looked up hopefully. “That’s an unbelievably terrible name, I do not want to know what business that is, and yes, please.”
I had just finished putting the password into her phone (WyattIsTheBest) when the door to the store opened. Bent over the screen, at first I just saw work boots and a pair of muscled, blue jeans–covered legs. I knew those thighs.
And that impressive, delicious bulge.
The T-shirt that announced, I might be a biologist if I can make these genes fit was new. As was the potted plant he held.
The unbuttoned flannel shirt was not. I was also best friends with the shoulders, the lush beard, the mouth curving upward in a smile, and the entire lumberjack biologist and world’s best fiancé, Maverick Boone. He was grinning, and my heart did a jackrabbit impression. He was so handsome and so very, very mine.
I launched myself at him like a goof, shrieking. The potted plant was set down hastily, and then his strong arms were scooping me up, holding me tight. I wrapped my legs around his waist and buried my nose in the hollow of his throat.
I’m home.
It was part Moonlight Valley, sure, but it was more this man.
“I missed you.” I came up for air just long enough to announce the obvious before I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed. I could I steal a quick kiss, right? And maybe, slightly hump him in public in front of a notoriously named bookstore? It would just give Wyatt more material for his books.
He wrapped one big hand around my ponytail, gently tipping my head back. His raspy voice and sweet Southern accent washed over me as he said, “I missed you more.”
I counted it as a win that Elena didn’t hex my fiancé. She was polite—which was more than she was with most people—when I introduced her to Maverick. I even dismounted from my happy Boone perch to make said introduction.
It didn’t hurt that Rebel popped out of the bookstore behind Maverick, a stack of paperbacks by Elena’s favorite author tucked under his arm. She’d always said that she judged a man by the books he read. He’d buttered her up by asking her for author recommendations, and she hadn’t even protested when he’d squeezed into the SUV with us so they could keep up their impromptu book club meeting.
I’d wanted to ride with Maverick, but he’d followed in his truck. I’d made sad, horny faces at him all the way to the rented cabin. Maverick and Rebel had carried our bags in, taking them up the stairs and setting them just outside the bedroom doors. It was like being on a cruise ship, but with the world’s sexiest porter man. A houseplant-gifting, super loving, and very horny porter man.
I followed Maverick outside and tugged him to the side. Rebel gave me a wink and wandered off to the truck. I didn’t care where he went if it got me alone time with Maverick—sorry, not sorry.
“I have a confession.” I wrapped my hand around his bicep in case he had the urge to flee. But also so I could feel him up. His arms were so muscular and strong. They made a deliciously sexy cage around me when he was on top of me, working himself deeper into my body. New thought: could he be convinced to play hooky from work?
He grinned at me, clearly onto my seduction ploy. “What is it that you need to tell me?”
I freaking loved his voice. It was low and raspy, a melting Southern burr that made me think about bourbon caramel and alone time with him. And a spoon. Maybe whipped cream. I needed a Maverick sundae right now!
“Sonnet, if you need me to pay attention, you have to stop thinking about me like that.”
“Are you a mind reader now? Are you sure you know what I’m thinking?”
He leaned down and brushed his mouth over my ear. Whispered something. And GAH. He wasn’t wrong.
“Sorry, sorry. Did I mention that I missed you?”
“You sure did. I missed you. My wolf missed you. Welcome home.” His mouth was not over my ear anymore. It was, instead, kissing its way over my cheek, on a collision course with my mouth.
“Call in sick,” I urged. “We evict Rebel from your truck and have truck sex. We can have lunch too. It’ll be an afternoon of yumtasy.”
“What?”
“Yumtasy,” I repeated. “That would be something yummy that causes ecstasy. Yumtasy! Portmanteau words are the best.”
He laughed, his eyes warm and happy. His mouth found mine in an achingly soft kiss. “Are you ready to confess?”
His mouth pressing tiny kisses against the corner of mine. It made me feel special. Cherished. So NO, I didn’t want to admit that I’d screwed up our plan, no matter how good I believed my reasons had been. It had been our plan, but I’d turned it into my plan. I was good with the outcome, but I was not happy with my means.
I slid my arms around his waist. “Please don’t get mad.”
His smile was soft and patient. Instead of agreeing—or disagreeing—he simply listened and waited for me to continue.
I had thought about how to say this, but now, in Maverick’s arms, I just blurted it all out in a rush. “I told everyone yesterday at the premiere that we were engaged. We should have a couple of days to come up with a contingency plan before Avalyn shares our news. I gave her an exclusive interview and?—”
“I know. There’s a video on YouTube.”
This was bad. Very, very bad. “What? When?”
“I saw it yesterday afternoon.”
I made a pained face. “Are you mad?”
“I was,” he said matter-of-factly. He seemed super calm and not as if he was about to start yelling. “We made a plan together, decided what was best for us.”
“Yes, but you see Luke was being—” No. That wasn’t it. “Okay. He was my impetus, but I wanted to tell everyone. I hated being there without you, and I hated asking you to keep us a secret.”
Maverick frowned, thinking over my words. I hated having made him mad, and even if he wasn’t going off on me, he was frowning. He almost never frowned, and I’d never been on the receiving end before. I hated the hot pressure in my chest and the prickle behind my eyes—and in my conscience. I’d screwed up.
“I was wrong,” I said. And that was true, but there was no walking back what I’d done. This wasn’t something I could erase or fix.
He gently peeled my hand off his waist and brought it up to his mouth for a kiss. “I’ll come by the set this afternoon, and we’ll discuss everything then. Okay?”
It was not okay. I didn’t want to wait. Not four hours, not four minutes, not even four zeptoseconds. On the other hand, now was not ideal. It was, in fact, unbelievably awkward. We were standing in the driveway in front of the cabin, with my sister, his brother, my bodyguards, and possibly some well-hidden paparazzi with long-range telephoto lenses watching us. I’d filmed kissing scenes with smaller audiences.
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly.
His mouth quirked as he studied my face. “Should I bring lunch?”
I nodded, already planning what I’d say. I had to have faith in him. In us. I had to believe that one mistake would not make him leave me. There might be yelling and disappointment, hurt feelings and regrets, but we would still be a couple. We’d just be a more experienced couple, and I wouldn’t make the same mistake again (knowing me there would be a whole bunch of new and different ones).
Then he said, “Are you bringing dessert? For the yumtasy?”
His eyes held warm, teasing, playful heat, and so much interest and adoration. It was going to be okay. I hadn’t screwed this up.
“So much yumtasy,” I said mock-seriously. “You’ll be worn out. In a yumtasy coma. It may be a very loud meal.”
He raised his eyebrows and then flashed me my favorite smile. It was his happy smile and so one-hundred-percent open and Maverick that it made my knees weak, and I had to kiss him one more time before I let him go and left for the set.
“Are you going out for lunch?” Elena asked as we headed toward my trailer. “We can go together.”
She smirked as she said this. She’d seen me kissing Maverick (and his enthusiastic kissing of me back) and now she’d reverted to being my big sister. She had shit to give me about my fiancé.
“I am staying in,” I said, mustering up what dignity I could.
It was almost noon, and I was done shooting for the day. We were down to the last few scenes, so our filming schedule was short. I had the afternoon to myself, so long as I could convince Elena to go away.
“I’m writing.” This was a sop to Elena. She was less likely to interrupt me if she believed I was making word count, not babies. “And maybe I’ll take a nap. Self-care is very important.”
“Uh-huh.” She nudged my shoulder with her own. “Napping, is it? Would this be solo self-care napping, or does it involve your big, bearded fiancé?”
“No comment!!” I said.
She laughed evilly. “Oh my god! We should call Mami! She totally needs to meet your man, seeing as how he’s about to become family. When do daffodils bloom?”
Elena had regained internet connectivity on her phone a few hours ago. She was still processing my bombshell red-carpet interview and the viral video of me proclaiming my undying love for Maverick Boone. Once she overcame her shock, there would be strategy meetings. PR meetings, marketing meetings, editorial meetings, wedding-planning meetings. So, SO many meetings.
“I’ll see you later,” I said firmly. I’m the boss!
She snorted, but she did leave me at the door to my trailer, so I decided to count our conversation as a victory. I gave Eric a stern heads-up to let no one but Maverick inside my trailer. He had my permission to go all ninja assassin predator dragon on any unbearded person who tried to open my door.
I’d brought along my silk caftan, the one with the suggestive peony flowers and the plunging neckline. Maverick had expressed his admiration for my caftan, and I was of the mind that it was a costume that announced: YUMTASY INSIDE. UNWRAP AT YOUR VIRTUE’S PERIL! I stripped down to my birthday suit and slipped on the caftan. Was Maverick striding up my path, looking manly and resolute and adorably in love? No. No, he was not. Ugh. I wandered around the trailer, rearranged a few pillows, and threw myself on the sofa. An idea came to me for the Wolf Girl script, so I flipped open my laptop and got to work.
When I looked up (thanks to my bladder’s insistence that a bathroom break was urgently needed), I’d lost two hours. On the plus side, I’d written twenty pages, and they were awesome. On the downside, yumtasy was in short supply. I rubbed my eyes, stood up, and did some stretches that Elena swore would extend my ability to type into my nineties.
Focused on rapid bathroom access, I was surprised to discover Maverick parked at my kitchen table. He had a beverage in a to-go cup that he was sipping through a straw, and he was flipping through a binder and scrolling on his phone.
Maverick did not understand the definition of yumtasy.
He looked up as I flew past him. His warm, teasing smile lit up his face. “Sonnet?—”
“Hi! I’ll be right back! Nature calls! Prepare ye for yumtasy galore!!”
It was not my suavest, sexiest moment ever. We both needed yumtasy practice.
When I emerged from the bathroom, he scrawled a few lines in his binder, flipped it shut, and smiled at me. “Hey, baby. Are you all done? Word count made?”
“Close enough. How long have you been here?”
He checked his phone. “About an hour?”
“You should have interrupted me!” My family gave me shit about being in the zone when I wrote, but they knew they could poke me, and I’d snap out of it. I loved Maverick’s respect for my job and my writing, but right now I wanted less respect and more loving. I’d been promised yumtasy, and who passed that up in favor of working more ?
“How should I have interrupted you?” He had his legs stretched out in front of him, and he’d set his hat on the table. His flannel was unbuttoned, and his hair was mussed. He was my strong, capable, adorable man, and now I was thinking about having dessert before I had my lunch.
But we needed to talk first. We really, really did. If we went straight to the yumtastic sex, it would be like putting the roof on the house but skipping the essentials like a good foundation. Or the AC. If you tried to live in the South without a good, strong, capable AC unit (or so I believed), you’d end up miserable, hot, and bothered. It was the same for talking and relationships.
Nevertheless, I straddled his lap, linking my hands behind his neck. My caftan rucked up around my thighs. “Hi, gorgeous. Next time, interrupt me, please.”
His eyes heated as they swept down my body and lingered on my bare thighs. “With pleasure.”
I grinned at him. “You answered your own question.”
We sat like that for a moment, mutually ogling each other. Who knew you could have yumtasy without actually kissing? Just by riding your man like a horse? (Actually, I knew that one.)
Heat and pleasure and utter and complete awareness rushed through me as I leaned into him. He was so completely amazing. Please don’t let me screw this up.
Thus, I blurted out, “I’m so, so sorry.”
His amused eyes cut to mine. “What are you sorry for?” I didn’t miss the note of fond exasperation in his voice.
“Because we had come up with a plan and I said I bought into it ten thousand percent and then I just went ahead and did something else in the heat of the moment. I didn’t stop to think about the consequences, and I’m sorry.”
“Wrong turn, right place.” Maverick shrugged. His big hands cupped my hips and pulled me closer.
I had agonized over my confession.
I had felt guilty.
I had been sure it was the end of the road for us, a bad, bad turn on the road of our relationship. At the very least, it had mattered .
So how could he be so laissez-faire about it?
Did he now think we both got to run around, ignoring the other’s wishes? My stupid selfishness was not his license to be a dick.
“Wrong turn, right place?” My voice rose slightly.
Okay. A lot.
He nodded, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “You bet. You learned something. The windshield’s bigger than the rearview mirror. Wrong turn, yes? But now you’re in the right place.”
“I’m sitting on your lap.”
“You are.” He brushed a kiss over my mouth. “I’m definitely thinking right place .”
“And it’s all good, just like that?” I snapped.
I would not be disarmed by kisses.
He nodded once. Slowly. The man was totally aggravating. “Yes.”
“Enlighten me, oh professorial one.”
His fingers had discovered by diligent stroking of my hip bones that I was not wearing underwear. He gave me an amused yet exasperated look.
“We make plans together,” he started.
“So far, so good.”
“And then we stick to the plan.”
“Okay. Yes. That’s where I jumped ship.”
“So, if one of us wants to change the plan, we discuss it.”
“Agreed.”
“Good,” he said firmly, as if we’d just worked out the master plan for achieving world peace and could now rest on our tranquil laurels. “So now I have a confession.”
Plot twist.
“You do?”
“I do. Yesterday, after I saw the viral video of your red-carpet interview, I did try to call you. There were reporters camped out at my house.”
Crickets and clovers.
“Was there bloodshed? Was Ranger there? Should I call Elena and have her get a team on it? What did you all do?”
“I invited the reporters up onto the front porch. We had a sit-down and some sweet tea. I answered some of their questions.”
He probably thought I’d thrown him into a snake pit. He was an actor in one of those Indiana Jones movies with all the snakes, asking himself, WHY AM I HERE , each time a reporter snake snapped at him.
“Was it awful?”
He shrugged. “It could have been worse. They didn’t know about my wolf, and that’s the most important thing. That would have been hard to explain. But they did know about my teenage years, and the car-thieving, and my arrest record. They particularly wanted to know how I thought TV audiences would react to learning that America’s sweetheart was hooking up with a redneck ex-con. I pointed out the need for greater accuracy in their reporting, seeing as how I’d never been convicted of a crime and therefore was neither a felon nor an ex-convict and would be likely to sue them for slander if they published that untruth. Other than that, however, our chat was largely nice.”
“Okay.” I could call Elena. Hire a team. A large, battalion-sized team of people. Their mission would be to look after Maverick like a rabid badger. “We’re okay.”
His hands stroked my back, anchoring me. “This is the beginning. This week may be a challenge, so you have to let me help you. You need to talk with me, tell me when something comes up. There will be all sorts of stories, things coming out—not because I was keeping secrets but because we haven’t had enough time together yet for me to tell you everything. Not when we keep getting distracted by bedroom matters. Ask me whatever you want. I won’t get mad. My wolf won’t get upset, either. We’re in this together.”
“We are.” We’re in this together. I didn’t have to do this alone. Maverick would be right there beside me. I guessed we could hold each other up. We’d never let each other go. That was the deal we’d made. We had our mini galaxy of wonderful. That galaxy might undergo a few cosmic events, but we would be love astronauts, overcoming all.
It would be Maverick Boone and Sonnet Ruiz—teammates, partners, lovers, and best friends—standing together. What we’d done in our pasts, the labels people gave us, those things didn’t matter. They weren’t what was important. He’d found me in the woods on the day we met, lost and ass over teakettle. And I’d found him back. Our love was all that mattered.
Mostly.
Almost entirely, except, you know, for our families. What the Ruiz clan thought counted for a great deal with me. I’d always listen to them, even if in the end I disagreed. It might even be polite disagreement.
What Maverick’s family thought also mattered, but they’d already made it clear that what made Maverick happy made them happy as well. I was good with them.
Maverick’s thoughts mattered.
My thoughts mattered.
Everyone else? Bless their hearts. They didn’t get a vote.
“I love you, Maverick Lincoln Boone.” I reached for the bottom of my caftan, pulling it upward. “Fair warning. I plan to drive you wild, tempt that wolf of yours, fill your house with our part-Fae, part-shifter babies, and write a sexy memoir about it all because I want the whole world to know just how amazing you are.”
He grinned down at me, his smile part amused, part devilish delight. His large, strong hands slid down my sides, curving inward to cup me. I loved how he touched me, how he cherished me exactly as I was.
“I love you, Sonnet Ruiz.” His voice was low and smoky as he brushed a kiss over my mouth. “You are happiness and joy, sunshine and sparkle, but you’re more than that. You’re the best kind of puzzle, a maverick, and a treasure hunted. But,” he whispered gruffly, “it’s not my house. It’s ours. Our place, our life, our family.”
And then talking time was over. It was time for yumtasy. Love. And thanking the universe for the wrong turn down a mountain that had landed me here in the arms of the right man.