Maverick Page 2

  And really, what did expectation and hope have to do with a man only passing through?

  Chapter Two

  “So I heard there’s a new guy in town.”

  Here we go.

  Charlie sighed and glanced over at her girlfriend, Ava. It had taken her less than five minutes to bring up that particular subject, and really, for Ava that was some kind of record.

  The brunette’s dark eyes glistened with excitement, her pretty face flush. Charlie got the interest. She really did. Fisherman’s Landing had a population that was inching toward two thousand. Being out in the middle of nowhere with the city of Boston over an hour away, the dating pool was limited.

  The town made money from tourism in the summer, with their beaches, and lobster and boating. In the winter, things were leaner and it was the main reason that the population never increased by much.

  Everyone knew everyone and for singles, it was hard to meet someone new unless you moved away or drove to the city every weekend. Even then, what kind of guy were you going to meet in a bar?

  Charlie glanced around The Devil’s Ride and grimaced. Ironic since she found herself here on a Friday night. Why the hell had she let Ava convince her to come out for drinks? The place was full—likely because there was a country band tonight, but mostly because there was nowhere else to drink and let off some steam.

  Charlie didn’t normally do Friday nights for a whole lot of reasons. Mainly because by the time the weekend rolled around, she was dead tired. Hell, she was more than tired. She was overworked, mentally exhausted, and stressed-the-hell-out. She should have grabbed a six-pack of Bud and tackled the pile of invoices sitting on her desk instead of hanging in The Devil’s Ride, drinking cheap whiskey and munching on stale pretzels.

  Ava took a sip of her beer and grinned. “So is he as hot as Jessie said he was?”

  Charlie leaned back against the bar and shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  Of course she was full of shit. Even though Charlie had barely exchanged five sentences with the guy, she’d got enough of an eyeful to know he was the kind of man you didn’t run into every day. Here or anywhere else, for that matter. It wasn’t just the fact that he was one of the hottest looking guys she’d ever seen—his face could have graced the cover of a fashion magazine—it was more than that. He was just so…so something.

  What that something was, she didn’t exactly know but the guy had charisma and he oozed sex appeal. She would have had to be a moron not to notice. And Charlie wasn’t a moron—even as distracted as she’d been with Connor. She never knew when her brother would have a meltdown and with school being cancelled, his routine had been blown wide open. The littlest thing could set him off.

  Rick.

  His voice echoed in her mind. It had been rich, full bodied, with a slight drawl that marked him from somewhere south of here.

  “Well didn’t he bring his sled in to your shop yesterday?”

  Wow. News really did travel at the speed of light in this town. Amused, she took a few moments before answering.

  “Yes he did.”

  “And…”

  Charlie reached for her drink. “And I wasn’t there. I fixed it this morning and was out picking up a transmission from the scrap yard when he returned.”

  “Oh.” Ava sounded disappointed, but then perked up. “Maybe he’ll come out for a drink.”

  “Maybe he’s holed up somewhere with a girlfriend or wife.”

  “Nope.”

  Charlie glanced at her friend once more. “How do you know?”

  “Because Jessie said he’s staying out at the McLaren place and that he’s alone. Says that it belongs to his brother or something.” She frowned. “I remember that someone bought it a few years back, right?”

  Charlie nodded. She’d heard the same thing, though no one had ever seen the guy.

  “So maybe he’ll be looking for some excitement on a Friday night,” Ava said with a grin.

  Charlie doubted that the man she’d met would find The Devil’s Ride an exciting place to visit.

  “Maybe,” Charlie murmured, for the first time spying a man seated in the corner booth. Great. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t look away. She shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but she was.

  Jeremy Martin.

  He’d been Charlie’s on again/off again boyfriend since high school. They’d broken up when she’d left for college, but had hooked up when she’d returned. For a while, she thought he was the guy she’d marry—everyone thought it was going to happen—until he cheated on her with a married woman. And that would be the woman sitting across from him, Emily Bryan.

  “Shit,” Ava said quietly, following Charlie’s gaze. “I didn’t know he was here. We can leave if you want.”

  “And do what?” Charlie asked, dryly. “Jeremy and I haven’t been a couple for months now, Ava. It’s a small town. We’re going to bump into each other. Can’t avoid it and I’m over him anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

  And she was. Except that Emily Bryan had married a good guy and it burned Charlie’s ass to see her out in public with the dingus who’s helped destroy her marriage.

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed as Emily got up from the booth and leaned over to brush her lips across Jeremy’s. It was February—cold as hell—and the woman was decked out in a short skirt with a low cut top that left little to the imagination. Her long blond hair hung in ribbons down her back, the platinum ropes glistening in the dim light.

  Jesus. Did she have some kind of power source stuck up in there? Who had hair like that?

  And her shoes….

  Charlie glanced down at the Doc Marten’s she’d pulled on. Not exactly feminine, but then again, they were comfortable. Long gone were the days that Charlie thought about fashion over comfort. Kind of sad considering she was only twenty-five.

  “Good Lord,” Ava said. “What pregnant woman wears five inch stilettos?”

  Charlie’s head whipped around. “What?” Emily was pregnant?

  More than a little shocked, Charlie reached for her whiskey. Not so much because she needed a drink, but because she desperately needed something to do with her hands.

  A baby. Jeremy Martin was going to have a baby. She glanced over at him again.

  Son-of-a-bitch.

  A baby.

  Charlie hadn’t even known that she wanted a child until he’d told her that he wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. He’d said that he didn’t see a kid in their future—not with Connor in the picture. And Charlie and Connor were a package deal.

  The dull ache in her chest morphed into full on hurt and Charlie exhaled, blinking away the hot tears that had suddenly formed in the corners of her eyes. What the hell? She was over Jeremy. Truthfully, she’d been over him before they’d even broken up. It was the idea of him, of a family of her own, of a sibling for Connor that made her heart ache.

  And if she was going to be brutally honest, it was the idea of having a shoulder to take on some of the weight that had become her life. A shoulder that might loosen the noose around her neck enough for her to not just contemplate, but to pursue some of the dreams she’d left behind the night her father died.

  “Oh, damn, Charlotte. I thought you knew,” Ava whispered. “I’m sorry. I heard about it last week and I…well, I figured it was the reason you’ve been so, you know…bitchy.”

  “Nope, that was just standard PMS.”

  Charlie glanced down at her hands for several seconds and then downed the rest of her whiskey in one gulp. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Ava nudged her. “Let’s go grab a couple bottles of wine and head back to my place. We’ll drink them until there’s nothing left and trash talk Jeremy until there’s no more trash talking to be done.”

  Charlie probably should have followed her girlfriend’s advice, but instead she turned to Angus, the bartender, and asked for another whiskey. She tucked a long strand of hair behind her
ear and focused on the tumbler in her hands as she slid from her stool and turned so that her back was to the room.

  “Charlie, are you sure you want to stay?” Ava asked softly.

  “Yep.”

  No way in hell was she leaving on account of Jeremy.

  “Just promise me you won’t start anything, okay?”

  Irritated, she glanced at her friend. “Like what?”

  Ava frowned. “Are you kidding me? The last time you got pissed off at Jeremy the cops were called, remember? You backed your tow-truck into his F-150.”

  Oh. Right.

  “Let’s just go,” Ava said hopefully.

  “No,” Charlie retorted. “I’m not leaving just because Jeremy’s here with his knocked up, still married, inappropriately dressed lady friend.”

  “Charlie.”

  “Don’t Charlie me, Ava. I’m over him.”

  “Shit.”

  “They deserve each other.”

  “Shit,” Ava murmured again, grabbing her beer, eyes behind Charlie.

  “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

  “Shit,” her friend repeated, voice rising slightly.

  Okay. Ava was taking this a little too far, even for her.

  “Ava—”

  “Oh my God, they’re coming over. He’s coming over.”

  Good Lord, what the hell was wrong with Ava? Her voice had risen a couple octaves.

  “I don’t give a flying crap, Ava. Jeremy Martin can kiss my ass.”

  “Who’s Jeremy Martin?”

  Charlie glanced over her shoulder and met a pair of dark chocolate eyes. For a moment she had nothing—and it was a rare thing for Charlie Samuels to be speechless—but she recovered nicely, arched an eyebrow and squared her shoulders.

  “Jeremy Martin can kiss my ass is none of your business.”

  “Jesus, Charlotte. That’s no way to talk to someone new in town.” Ava slid off her stool and held out her hand, eyes as wide as the smile on her face. “You have to be the new guy everyone’s been talking about. I’m Ava.”

  “Rick,” he responded smiling at Charlie’s friend, though his eyes moved back to Charlie, and for one breathless moment, more zigs and zags than she could count rushed through her.

  Um. What? Unnerved, she settled back onto her stool and took a moment. Then Charlie reached for her whiskey and swore when her fingers closed around an empty tumbler. Glaring at Angus the bartender, she held up her empty glass.

  Davis slid up beside her and whispered near her ear. “Be nice.”

  Jason Davis was her best friend. She’d known him all her life and he’d worked for her dad right out of high school. Now he worked for Charlie. At thirty, he was still single—which made no sense. With wicked blue eyes and a thick mop of blond curls, he had more women after him than he had time for. Funny as hell and loyal to the end, he’d been there for Charlie during her darkest days. After her father passed, she would have fallen apart if not for Davis.

  “I’ll try,” she muttered, glancing toward Ava. But it was those chocolate eyes that she saw once more. Rick stared at her as if he could see right through her, and dammit Charlie broke eye contact. Okay, she really needed to get her shit together.

  “You guys eat yet?” Davis asked.

  “Yes,” Charlie said.

  “No,” Ava replied at the same time. “You inviting us over, Davis?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” Ava asked.

  “Whether or not you’re hooking up with Seth Rogers. The guy is a doorknob and I don’t have time to listen to his bullshit.”

  “Since when do you care about Seth?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Whatever, grumpy pants. I’m here with Charlie. Alone.” She batted her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “And hungry.”

  Charlie watched her friends, amused by their banter. Jesus, were they ever going to see how right they were for each other?.

  Davis’s eyes narrowed a bit and he turned from Ava, leaning closer to Charlie. “Forget about Jeremy. Come sit with me and my new buddy Rick.”

  “Since when are you and him buddies?”

  “Since you overcharged him for the job this morning.”

  “I didn’t—“

  “Bullshit.”

  “Whatever. I’m fine at the bar,” Charlie said, making a face.

  “You don’t seem fine,” Davis replied. “We’ve got a table in the corner near the band. You don’t need to be looking at old news and trust me, he’s old news.”

  Why hadn’t she just stayed home? Maybe she should just—

  “And if you leave now, Jeremy’s new piece will think she’s won something. Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s not worth it.”

  Angus set a new drink in front of her and Charlie’s fingers slid across the cold glass. She stared at the condensation for a few seconds. Davis was right. If she left now Jeremy and half the town would think it was because she still had feelings for him.

  She glanced at the half filled bowl of stale pretzels. She was kind of hungry.

  “Fine,” she muttered to Davis, eyes sliding to Rick, who thankfully had taken his gaze off her and was chatting with Ava. “Why’s he here again?”

  “I invited him.”

  “Why?”

  Suddenly suspicious, Charlie focused on Davis. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to set her up with someone. He knew how pathetic her social life was. Hell, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had an orgasm by anything other than her own hand. Long before she and Jeremy had broken up, things had soured in that department. But Charlie had way too much on her plate. She didn’t have the time or energy for a distraction.

  A distraction like this here Rick-whoever-the-hell-he-was.

  Not even with the zigs and the zags.

  “Why what?” Davis asked.

  Startled from of her train of thought, Charlie slid off her stool, taking a gulp of whiskey as she did so.

  “Never mind. Let’s eat.”

  She marched past the three of them, ignoring the surprise in Ava’s face and totally ignoring the man beside her. She smiled at Jeremy when she passed his table (and yes, she wished like hell she’d pulled on something other than her old faded denim, the plain white tank top and the blue plaid flannel shirt, but whatever).

  She settled into the booth, set her drink in front of her and, shit, moved over when the new man in town, Rick slid in beside her. There was a smirk on his face that she didn’t like.

  Or maybe she did, and that was a problem.

  “Funny isn’t it?” he murmured, leaning toward her so that Davis and Ava had no way of hearing him.

  He smelled nice.

  Okay, Charlie thought. Stop it. Be cool. He’s just a guy. And she wasn’t interested.

  “What’s that?” she asked, wishing he’d move back an inch or so. You know, on account of him smelling so nice.

  A smile, played around the edges of his mouth. “In a bar full of people, you end up sitting beside the one guy you don’t like.”

  “That’s not funny,” she replied, suddenly fighting the urge to smile, herself.

  “No?”

  “It’s ironic.”

  He stared at her for a long time. How long she couldn’t say.

  It was long enough for Charlie to know that if she didn’t watch her step, her life might become more complicated than she was ready for. And Charlie was, if anything, pragmatic. She didn’t like surprises.

  She also didn’t like the butterflies that had suddenly appeared inside her, because the thing was, Charlie Samuels had no time for damn butterflies, especially when the reason for them wouldn’t be sticking around.

  That little bit of lightness inside her faded just as fast at it had come because there was no way in hell this man was staying in Fisherman’s Landing. Not for long. She thought of her mother. She thought of her father’s broken heart.

  No one ever did.

  Chapter Three

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nbsp; About halfway through Friday night, Maverick knew that it was going to take him a hell of a lot longer to figure out Charlie Samuels than he’d first thought. The woman’s middle name could have been contradiction. Nothing about her was as it seemed. Nothing.

  She was hot and then cold. In your face and then reflective.

  She was quiet and then a barrel laugh would come out of nowhere. The kind that made heads turn.

  She was quick to argue (he wasn’t going to lie, he kind of liked that) but conceded when she was wrong. Sure it took a bit of coaxing, but her friends Davis and Ava knew all the right buttons to push.

  She was beautiful in a way he wasn’t used to. There were a lot of gorgeous women in California, especially in LA. But a lot of that beauty was manufactured and plastic. The women who moved in his circle wore the latest designer threads and only went to the ‘it’ places so that they could be seen. They came to the west coast looking for a dream that sadly turned many of them into women they no longer recognized.

  He’d seen it time and time again.

  But Charlie, out for a Friday night dressed in old jeans and boots and flannel, with her fresh scrubbed face, sexy-as-hell mouth, arresting eyes and hair the color of old apple cider spilling around her shoulders—well, she piqued his interest in a way he’d not felt since….

  Since he’d first laid eyes on Donovan James.

  And that was saying something because Donnie was one hell of a woman. The fact that they’d never gone past being friends was a good thing. Sex usually complicated relationships and working with Donovan had been complicated enough. They wrote great songs together and had learned early on that being there for each other was what they were good at. What they needed to be.

  But Charlie, or rather Charlotte as he’d found out, now she made him think that things in Fisherman’s Landing could get interesting. And maybe he shouldn’t be thinking along those lines—it’s not as if he was sticking around or anything—but they were adults and if he was right, there was something between them. And for the first time in a long time he was excited at the thought of pursuing a woman.