Maverick Page 4

  She didn’t answer him because she’d gone from irritated to pissed in less than two minutes, and well, she couldn’t answer him even if she wanted to. Not without lying. Fun? That was a word that had no place in her life anymore. At least not right now.

  Maybe never.

  “I know you’ve had it rough with Connor and all. With what happened with your dad and how the little guy’s handled it. But Jesus, Charlotte you’re wasting away here. You had so much…”

  “So much what?” Her throat was tight and she could barely get the words out.

  “Potential,” Davis said softly. “Don’t let life beat you down, Charlie. You’re not getting any younger and last time I looked, Fisherman’s Landing wasn’t exactly crawling with eligible men. Rick’s into you. Hell, Ava and I both knew it Friday night.”

  How the hell had they gone from fixing a damn truck to talking about her non-existent sex life?

  “Davis—”

  “And since we’re on the subject,” he interrupted. “It might be time for you to jump on that horse again.”

  “And you think Rick’s a horse that I need to ride?”

  Davis cleared his throat and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his grey coveralls. “I…I think that maybe this is a conversation we should have some other time.”

  “What?” Charlie snapped, in the mood to argue. Hell, she was chomping at the bit to tell Davis off. Since when did he think he had a right to comment on her private shit? He was her employee. Right here, right now, in this garage that belonged to her, he was her employee not her friend.

  “No way, Davis. You started this so let’s finish it.”

  “Maybe we should finish this conversation when the person who may or may not be the subject of our conversation isn’t you know, standing over there.”

  Charlie reached for the carburetor. Screw it. She needed to let off steam in the worst way. Who cared if Davis had a concussion?

  Wait. What?

  A polite cough sounded and mouth tight, she stared at her mechanic. If looks could kill, Davis would be dead. He’d be a big lump on the cold concrete floor with his greasy hands and dirty coveralls and three days worth of stubble. He’d be deader than dead. He’d be…

  She heard someone scrape boots along concrete—one guess as to who that was. Charlie straightened her shoulders and glanced over to the door that connected the shop part of her business to the storefront.

  A man stood there. A tall man with shoulders to die for and thick dark hair that peeked from beneath his black knit beanie. A man with wicked eyes and a killer smile that told her he’d heard most of a conversation that he had no right to hear.

  “I knocked but…” A slow grin spread across his face and dammit if her heart didn’t speed up (just a little), and she knew that her cheeks were a bright pink.

  Okay, his smile might be killer but it did nothing to improve Charlie’s mood. Scowling, she tossed the carburetor back onto the bench not caring if she’d just screwed up all the work that she’d done.

  “What the hell do you want?” she asked rudely.

  “I wanted to chat about the Shelby.”

  “You said you’d call.”

  He paused. “I was going to but then decided that I wanted to see you again.”

  His eyes flashed.

  Her stomach clenched.

  “Who the hell are you exactly?” she asked suddenly.

  His smile faded a bit, but the gleam in his eyes sharpened.

  “And why are you hanging around all of a sudden?” Did she sound like a bitch? She sure as hell did. Did she care? Not really because for whatever reason, Charlie felt as if she needed to put some distance between herself and this man. And if scaring him off with her attitude did the trick than so be it.

  “The name’s Rick,” he answered, that grin back in place.

  “Does Rick have a last name?”

  Davis snorted but they both ignored him.

  “He does.”

  “And?”

  “It’s privileged information.”

  “I’m not surprised.” A heartbeat passed as the two of them stared at each other.

  “Take me to this dance on Saturday night.”

  “I don’t go out with men I barely know.”

  Charlie didn’t think it was possible for his grin to be any more devastating. But oh shit, there it was. More devastating. More sexy. Just…wow. She was irritated. Pissed. Excited. (And she couldn’t lie, just a little bit worked up).

  “I’ll pick you up eight.”

  God, he was sure of himself.

  “I’ll text you the address,” Davis interjected.

  Hello. She was standing right there.

  “Good,” Rick said, pulling his hat down and hunching his shoulders as he prepared to step back out into the cold. His eyes nailed Charlie’s and damn, there went her pulse again. “I’ll see you Saturday night and we’ll continue our conversation.”

  He disappeared and Charlie stood there for a good long while, staring at the empty space where he’d been. What the hell had just happened?

  “I can’t go,” she whispered.

  “I’ve got Connor,” Davis said carefully, wiping his hands on a dirty rag and reaching back under the hood. “And you know that he’s good with me. It will do him good to have someone other than you for company for a change.” A pause. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” she replied dryly.

  “Good. It’s settled.”

  “But—“

  “And dammit Charlie, make sure you go out and buy something new to wear. You sure as hell can’t go to this dance wearing jeans and flannel. We might be small town New England, but we do have standards. At least for Valentine’s Day.”

  “But—“

  “No buts. Ava will help you get it sorted out. I know for a fact she’s going to the party.”

  “But Ava…” Charlie winced. She loved her girlfriend to the moon and back, but the girl didn’t own a dress past mid thigh and she sure as hell had no flannel in her closet.

  “Shit,” she muttered to herself.

  Davis laughed. “Indeed.”

  Chapter Five

  Maverick settled into a routine. Get up. Work out. Eat. Work out. Pace the floor. Try to write some music. Work out some more. Thank God for Netflix or he would have gone crazy, though watching several seasons of Sons of Anarchy didn’t do much for his mental state.

  He couldn’t focus and by Friday his mood was black. Was he ever going to be able to write again? Crumpling up the sheet of lyrics near his keyboard, he tossed them into the garbage where they joined all the others and settled back in his chair. Hands behind his head, he swore and leaned back.

  Outside the wind moaned and darkness was setting in. They’d had a good amount of snowfall all week and he’d briefly considered taking the sled out for a spin, but had never gotten past considering. He was restless and feeling uneasy in his skin.

  He was used to spending days and weeks on his own. It’s when he usually did his best work. Hell, he liked his own company. So what was wrong with him?

  He groaned and slammed his eyes shut.

  Damn. Wrong thing to do.

  A vision of dark red hair, creamy skin and mesmerizing eyes flashed in front of him. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. Great. All he had to do was conjure a mental image of Charlie and his dick sprang to life, aching with a need that he was going to have to take care of himself. What the hell? He barely knew the woman.

  He shifted again and swore, eyes wide open as he glared into the darkness outside. How long had it been since he’d had sex? A few months by his calculation, which wasn’t that unusual for a guy who was alone—at least a guy who was way past sleeping with a woman just for sex. But when was the last time he’d had great, invigorating, fulfilling sex? That was the real question.

  The last few times he’d been with Elle he’d only gone through the motions. Sure he’d had a physical release but the emotional connection was long go
ne. And Maverick was getting too old to be satisfied with just a sexual release.

  He wanted more.

  Startled, he sat up in his chair and rolled his hands over the mess of hair on top of his head. Already, the unruly waves were falling over his ears and he shoved a hunk of it off his forehead, staring at his guitar intently.

  He wanted more.

  His best friend Donovan was due to have her first baby with Jack. His cousin Beau had just announced to the world that he and his new wife Billie Jo were expecting. Christ, even Tucker had found someone after the tragedy of his first marriage and Maverick wouldn’t be surprised if they were working on starting a family.

  Everyone was moving on and Maverick was just…he was just standing still.

  Was that it? Is that why his mojo had fled?

  Jumping up from the chair, he crossed over to the window and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. The wind was picking up and snow flew everywhere. He was restless and cagey. He glanced down at the bulge between his legs and grimaced. He was also horny as hell.

  His laptop chimed and he blew out a hot breath, glancing over to the table near his keyboard. It was Skype and he knew it was most likely Donovan, since he’d already chatted with his mother. He considered not answering—his mood was that foul—but with a sigh, Maverick pushed away from the window.

  Fuck it, he thought, striding over and settling in front of the damn thing. It’s not like Donovan would give up anyway.

  “Hey,” he said, attempting a grin when he saw her staring back at him.

  “You look like shit.”

  Trust Donnie to cut to the chase.

  He shrugged. “It’s not like I need to shave for anyone.” Her face was rounder, her eyes as expressive as ever and Maverick felt a bit of his blackness lift. God, he missed her.

  “Shaving isn’t the issue, Rick.”

  “No, I guess it’s not.”

  She pursed her lips. “I’m worried about you. Why don’t you come here and stay with Jack and me? I could use the distraction. Trust me, this baby is making your cousin crazy.”

  He leaned his elbows on the table just as another wave of snow hit the window.

  “What the hell was that?” Donovan asked with a frown. “Sounds like you’re in the middle of a storm.”

  “It’s been like this for days, but it’s normal for around here.”

  “And where is here, exactly?”

  “I told you. I’m at Cooper’s place.”

  “Yes but I don’t know where Cooper’s place is, other than somewhere cold and stormy. Is it snowing?”

  “Could be.”

  She stared at him intently. “Why are you two being so secretive anyway?”

  “We’re not being secretive.”

  “You’re full of it.”

  He couldn’t argue with her on that one, so he didn’t try. “I just needed to be in a place where no one knows me. Sometimes the Simon name makes it hard to just disappear.”

  “Whatever. I don’t care.”

  He could tell by the tilt of her head and the way she tapped her fingers along the tabletop that she did. But Cooper’s retreat wasn’t his secret to give up. Even their mother didn’t know about the house—God love her, but the woman couldn’t keep a secret. As far as Maverick knew, the only other person who knew about Fisherman’s Landing was Donovan’s husband Jack. And that guy would go to the mat for anyone.

  “Have you written anything?” she asked with a scowl.

  Maverick glanced over to his Gibson Les Paul. The sunburst guitar had been silent since he’d arrived.

  “Nope.”

  “Well that’s not good, considering your job is to write hit songs and score music.”

  Maverick had nothing. Donovan was right.

  She leaned close to her monitor and pushed back a long rope of blond hair. Her eyes nailed Maverick with a no-nonsense expression. “You’re too tense. Too preoccupied. You need to get laid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Donnie. Is that your answer for everything?”

  A smile crept over her features. “Well, it’s not an answer for everything of course, but honey, you’re strung tighter than a yo-yo. Getting laid can’t hurt. There’s gotta be someone there that can help you out.”

  Maverick leaned back in his chair. She was fishing for information.

  “Maybe there is,” he said without thinking.

  An eyebrow shot up and Donovan’s grin widened even more. “Details please,” she demanded.

  He should have kept his damn mouth shut. He considered the situation and then thought, what the hell. Maybe Donnie would have some kind of perspective that he didn’t.

  “I met someone and she’s got me intrigued.”

  “And?”

  “Her name’s Charlie and she’s a mechanic.”

  Donovan giggled and Maverick couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to hear.

  “A mechanic,” she repeated.

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  Donovan’s eyes softened. “I think a mechanic sounds sexy. What else you got?”

  “We just met, so not much.”

  Donnie snorted. “Oh come on, Maverick. You gotta give me something more than that. I’ve got nothing but time on my hands until the baby comes.”

  He thought for a second. “She’s prickly as hell. Kind of rude. She’s opinionated and doesn’t hold back, and I’m not all that sure she likes me much.”

  “Please. I don’t know any woman who could resist your smile. You’re the devil and you know it. That’s like crack to women.” Donovan paused, eyes thoughtful. “I gotta say though, she doesn’t sound like your usual type.”

  “Yeah. I know. But she’s got something. Her laugh is…” Okay now he sounded like a goofball. Maverick cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I’m sticking around this place for long. I probably shouldn’t be getting involved with anyone.”

  “Jesus, Rick. You don’t have to marry the girl. Tell me the truth. Is she into you?”

  Hell if he knew.

  “Is that it?” Donnie said with a grin. “She’s not falling all over herself to get into the pants of the very hot and very notorious Maverick Simon?”

  “She doesn’t know who I am, remember?”

  “Oh, right.” Donovan paused, her brow furrowed. “So what did you tell her?”

  “That my name is Rick.”

  “And that’s it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh.”

  Okay. It sounded lame even to Maverick. He felt like a foolish, horny, teenager. Games weren’t his thing and he was starting to think that Saturday night was a bad idea.

  “Sweetie, I know you’re not going to like to hear this, but it sounds to me as if things could get complicated. I mean, you’re lying to this woman about who you are. It’s not right, Maverick.”

  “You’re the one who just told me to go out and get laid. And for the record, I haven’t lied. I just haven’t offered up anything of a personal nature. I’m here to disappear, Donnie. That’s it.”

  “Well you can’t disappear if you’re fooling around with someone.” Donovan glanced over her shoulder and nodded to someone before leaning in close. “Are you going to see her again?”

  Grudgingly, Maverick nodded. “I’m supposed to go to a function with her tomorrow night.”

  “Then you need to be upfront with her and if blowing your cover is more important then being honest with this woman, maybe you should back off.”

  “It’s not just about me. Cooper…”

  He groaned. How the hell had he already gotten himself in the middle of a mess? “If people know who I am, then it won’t take long for them to figure out that the guy who owns this place is Cooper. He’s not ready for that and I promised him that I would keep his identity quiet.”

  “Then you have no choice.”

  Mood once again black, Maverick stared at his friend. What exactly was he hoping would happen with Charlie? Did he just want
a night of diversion? A night out so that he didn’t dwell on the sad state of his personal life? Or was he looking for a night of hot sex with a woman he found attractive?

  Charlie had a kid brother that she was responsible for. She sure as hell didn’t need someone like Maverick complicating an already complicated life. Especially when he was only here for a few weeks.

  “So what are you going to do?” Donovan asked.

  “Guess I’ll find something else to do Saturday night,” he said tightly.

  Damn, but he hated when Donovan was right.

  Chapter Six

  Charlie was an idiot.

  There was no other explanation, or at least none that hit the nail on the head quite like that one word. Idiot. Had she really thought that Saturday night with the guy-with-no-last-name was what she needed? That in fact it might be kind of fun? That maybe the guy-with-no-last-name actually was interested in her?

  Damn right she had.

  Why else would she have let Ava drag her off to the city for a morning of shopping and an afternoon of pampering? Because of Ava, Charlie had dropped more cash than she should have on black leather leggings, new boots that were about as far away as you could get from her comfy Doc’s, and a slinky, sleeveless—not to mention nearly backless—top.

  Because of Ava she had ret hot toenails and matching fingers. Sure the nail technician had sighed heavily when she’d seen the state of Charlie’s hands, but still, they didn’t look bad.

  Because of Ava she’d been waxed in places that made her blush. Her. Charlie Samuels. Bare down there (Who knew that Ava could be so damn pushy?).

  She’d let Ava do her makeup and hair. She’d allowed herself to get excited at the thought of seeing the mysterious and hot Rick. Hell, she’d even admitted to herself that not only did she look damn good but the whole, bare down there, thing wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. In fact she felt sexy and desirable and that was something she hadn’t felt in ages.

  She’d gotten her hopes up and then she’d crashed and burned.

  Rick hadn’t shown and when she’d finally dug out her cell phone from beneath a pile of adverts and flyers on the table in the hall, she’d found messages and missed calls from Davis and Rick—messages that she would have gotten so much sooner if she hadn’t forgotten her phone at home.