Maisie #2
My back collides with his warm chest, and I freeze.
God, he shouldn’t be holding me like this, but fuck, if it doesn’t feel good.
More than good. It feels right nestled against him.
We aren’t fully embracing, more just connected by a few points.
It fades quickly when Grayson realizes the compromising position we are in and pulls away.
I know we both are unavailable at the moment, but it still felt nice to pretend for just one blissful second.
I face him with a carefree smile. He, on the other hand, looks tense. One hug, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. I poke my finger into his chest. “Enough about me. What about you? What is the Grayson Miles’ story? No, wait, let me guess.”
I pretend to study him. Really, I’m just taking the opportunity to check him out.
He’s shredded, like those country Pinterest men you see when you search the word cowboy.
His unruly brown curls peek out from the bottom of his cowboy hat, which he seems to always be wearing.
That, or a backwards baseball hat. Don’t get me started on the tattoos peppering him.
My wet dream. He’s hardworking, if his permanently stained and calloused hands are anything to go by.
And, like me, he’s guarded. I just can’t figure out why.
“Alright, I’ll bite. Lay it on me, honey.”
I smirk, tapping my finger on my cheek. “Hmmm, where to start? You’re clearly a workaholic, though I'm sure the Foxes have no complaints there. I haven’t seen you with a woman—yet.
” I pause, holding his eyes to check for a reaction.
He gives nothing away. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re in a relationship with the ranch.
The women in town probably don’t stand a chance.
Either that, or you’re shit in bed.” I shrug before continuing.
“You live on the ranch, and you seem to be close with the Foxes, since you’re invited to family dinners.
I’ve yet to hear you talk about your own family, though, besides Laine and Nova, who I’ve learned firsthand you are close with…
so maybe I’m missing the mark there.” I pace in front of him, counting things off on my fingers.
“Every time I see you, you’re dripping blood from at least one place.
I’m not sure if you’re clumsy, or if you just like to pick fights.
” He finally breaks, laughing under his breath.
Interesting. “And to finish it off, you’re a tattoo-aholic.
My guess is, you started getting them to rebel at first, and then they turned into a way of expression?
That, or you have a pain kink. A rebellious but guarded lover who chooses to get lost in his work to tune out the noisy world, who also has a thing for pain and may or may not have a broken dick.
Jury's still out on that.” I spin to his front, throwing my hands out wide. “Well, how did I do?”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s still a smirk on his face. Bingo. “Most of my tattoos have meanings, but you hit the nail on the head about them starting as a rebellion.”
Classic man response, choosing to only respond to the last thing said. “So I nailed you on the tattoos… What about the rest?”
Just give me one real thing, one thing to hold on to.
I crave his trust. Maybe it stems from my abandonment issues and need for connection.
Him opening up to me would mean I’m special in some way to him.
Chalk it up to never having a stable thing to rely on in my life if you want, but I want—no, need—Grayson’s secrets.
“You may have nailed a couple other things,” he says dismissively.
“Wow, that bad in bed, huh?” I joke. If he doesn’t want to tell me his life story, I won’t push him on it, plain and simple. I’ve been there, I understand.
“Maisie.”
“What,” I taunt.
“I don’t need to sleep with every woman in this town to prove I’m a damn good lay.” He steps forward and tucks my hair behind my ear. He’s so close now, I can feel his breath fan against my ear. “Let’s just say I could have you learning new things your body could do if I ever got my hands on you.”
“Just friends,” I squeak, my chest heaving.
His breaths are erratic when he nudges my ear with his nose. “Mhm, just friends,” he rasps.
One more word out of this man, and I’m done for. Abort mission, Maisie. I take a hesitant step back, though I wish it was forward so I could soak up his warmth. “Soo,” I draw, “besides your rebellious tattoos, which one is your favorite?”
His face lights up, and he strips his flannel off in record time. It’s freezing out here, but he doesn’t seem to care. He points to his sculpted, veiny bicep, where a beautiful, dainty dove is perched on a branch, the rest of his tattoos warping around it.
“This was one of the first tattoos I got that had meaning,” he states proudly.
“A dove? It’s beautiful.” I inch closer to trace it with my fingertip. He trembles under my touch as I explore. There’s a smaller bird perched next to the dove, less aged.
“It’s a squab.” His eyes light up when he looks at it. “A baby dove. Doves mate for life. An unbreakable bond. I got the dove to represent Laine and our sibling bond. It was just the two of us until Nova came along. I got the squab when she was born. Our little unbreakable trio.”
Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Blame my damn period hormones, because I think I might be getting teary eyed over a man and his squab tattoo. Emotional intelligence and familiar devotion are quite literally the biggest turn on. One bird tattoo has my overactive uterus seeing wedding bells.
“That’s…well, fuck, that’s really sweet and now I feel like an asshole for implying you had a broken dick.” I turn away from him so he can’t see the waterworks on the horizon.
He blinks down at me. “Are you? Are you crying over my tattoo?”
“A freaking bug flew in my eye.”
His gruff chuckle claws down my insides. “Maisie, look at me.”
My stomach flips. Apparently, I like being told what to do now. Great! How many kinks can this man unlock in my short visit? I sniffle, playing it off like I have a cold. I think I’m totally selling it until I find him with his hand over his mouth to keep from busting out laughing at me.
His oversized jacket swallows my arms when I cross them. “What?” I growl.
My attempt at a mean mug is his final straw. His laugh is like the first wave crashing over your feet on the beach. It’s refreshing and wraps around you like a hug. I could drown in it and be content to let it sweep me away.
Earth to Maisie. Stop daydreaming about a cowboy you can’t have.
After finally collecting himself, he looks me over with deep sincerity, swooping up my shed tear. “Why are you crying, honey?”
I shrug, looking away. I can’t look this man in the eyes.
It’s too much. “It’s a very sweet tattoo, and I’m on my period.
This shit is written in romcom 101. Don’t act like you’re special for getting my tears, okay!
” And now, my arms are flailing like a madwoman, which Grayson finds hilarious. I narrow my eyes at him.
“Alright, alright. I’ll stop giving you shit. Though, I won’t lie, it’s pretty fucking cute.” He realizes his words too late.
Take a load of your own medicine, big guy.
We sit in comfortable silence, perched back on the edge of the dock. He studies me and then asks, “Truth for truth?” I have nothing to hide, so I nod. “Do you ever feel like life is passing you by, and you’re just stuck in a never-ending loop that’s become suffocating?”
I didn’t realize we were getting deep, deep.
I think over his question before my answer comes.
I find a fallen pink Crabapple flower on the dock and worry it between my fingers.
“Every day, if I’m being honest. It’s one of the reasons I came here.
To escape reality in hopes that something would finally fall into place.
” I hesitate to continue, but fuck it. “After my parents died, I thought my life would be over at the ripe age of eight. I didn’t understand how the world could keep moving without them, how they could be there one morning, planning what’s for dinner, and the next, it’s like they never existed.
Dinner still came, though; they just weren’t there to enjoy it with me.
Each day and night still passed. Every sporting event went on like nothing had changed, because, for everyone else, nothing had.
For me, though, everything changed. I’ve been chasing the feeling of feeling whole ever since that day.
I’m honestly not sure I’ll ever truly get back to that, but I would love to try and get close.
It’s one of the reasons I started writing, to create worlds I can escape to and leave behind the pain, even just for a moment.
” My chest feels lighter than it’s been since maybe the accident.
I let go of all the pain with each word.
“I thought I finally had it all figured out. The dream career. The man who felt stable and safe. Until I didn’t.
” I scoff. How wrong I was. How sad it is to be content with a mediocre life, one that checked all the boxes but didn’t account for the fill in the blank on the questionnaire asking for the real answers at the bottom.
“I want a career that fulfills my wildest dreams. I crave a love that fills in all the missing pieces of my heart like silly putty, patching my holes. An all consuming, life altering connection that makes me view the world with rose colored glasses again. I want it all, Grayson.”
I break with my last words, letting all the repressed emotions flood in. I may not have truly loved Carl, but the pain of not being good enough will stick with me no matter how much I try to give it no attention. It’s there all the same. Just like the rejections at work.
“I just want to be that little eight year old girl again who didn’t fear the world, but who instead dreamed so big, the world should have feared her.”