Chapter 31

Carys

“It’s so great meeting you,” I gush.

I think I have a girl crush. Cami is probably the nicest, prettiest person I’ve ever met. Well, the gorgeous redhead standing next to her is a close second. They’re both so sweet and friendly. I can see why CeCe and Cami have been friends all these years.

“It’s great meeting you,” Cami replies. “And I’m glad you love your painting. I always get so nervous when I do a commission piece like this.”

“Nervous?” I ask in surprise. “Are you kidding me? I think you could splat paint on a canvas and I’d still love it.”

We laugh and Dani chimes in. “She’s crazy. Don’t listen to her.”

“Thanks for coming,” I tell them both. “And whenever y’all wanna come for an extended stay, let me know. I’ll get your rooms ready.” I wink.

Tilting her head up to the ceiling and then giving the lobby another look, Dani sighs. “Well, hopefully soon. Micah works late sometimes when he has to fill in for someone or they have a busy weekend. So, I’ll have to come crash here. We can hang out and I can see him. That’d be a win-win.”

“Dani is a photographer,” Cami adds. “You should totally hit her up for some fresh shots for your website.”

My eyes grow wide in delight. “That would be amazing.”

“You should see her work,” Cami says proudly. “She’s so talented.”

Pot meet kettle, I think, but I’m trying to play it cool. Artists and authors are my rock stars, so this is a very fangirl moment for me.

“We can barter—rooms for photos.”

“Sounds like a deal,” I tell her.

After we exchange a few more minutes of small talk, I glance behind me where the backdoor is open to the courtyard. “I should probably get back out there.”

“Us too,” Cami says. “I need to make sure Deacon didn’t go back out there and eat all your macarons.

We laugh, but I reach around the counter and pull out a few wrapped macarons. “For the road,” I tell her, pausing when I see a brown leather bag sitting beside a black leather bag.

It’s the brown one that gets my attention and makes me pause.

MHK is etched into the leather.

That could be anyone I tell my stupid heart, trying to not get my hopes up. I’ve done so well tonight, not letting my mind stay on Maverick or the fact he’s not here. I’ve mingled and smiled and visited. To anyone looking at me, I’m the perfect picture of the welcoming hostess—Carys Matthews, owner of the Blue Bayou.

But inside, my heart stutters a little every time someone new shows up, thinking maybe it’s him.

“We’ll see you soon,” Cami sings, she and Dani heading back outside.

“Uh, okay,” I call back, my voice shaking as my heart jumps to crazy conclusions. Clearing my throat, I turn to follow them, but stop, my breath catching. “Hey.”

Giving me a crooked smile and devouring me with his eyes, he replies, “Hey.” We both stand there for a second, frozen in place until he finally adds, “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

I swallow hard, willing my heart to stay in my chest and not leap out and run for him.

Be cool, Carys.

“Thanks.” I nod, looking around at the newly painted bookshelves and the new chairs I found at the flea market down the street for the reading area.

“This is a nice touch,” he adds, following my gaze.

I knew he’d like it.

I think, subconsciously, I did it for him.

I smile. “Thought you’d like it.”

“I’m sorry—” we both begin and stop, gesturing to the other to continue.

“Me first,” I tell him, taking a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. Man, I missed him. I missed the way his eyes look when he’s watching me. I missed how blue they are, such a contrast with his dark hair, which has grown a little since I saw him last. Pressing my lips together, I inhale through my nose, mentally rehearsing the speech I’ve been preparing in my mind.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat, knowing I want to start there. I’ve never been afraid of saying I’m wrong. “I recently read that if you’re wrong, you should own up to that shit.” I smile when Maverick’s eyes squint in recognition, his features relaxing as he patiently listens. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions,” I admit. “When I found those papers in your room, it was an accident. I wasn’t snooping around in your things. I got up to go to the bathroom and I was trying to be quiet, but ran into the table, knocking the file onto the floor.”

Maverick’s smile morphs into a cringe as he rakes a hand through his hair. I can tell he wants to say something, but he’s biting his tongue and giving me my moment.

“I’m a mess, I know,” I say, trying to lighten the moment.

“My mess,” Maverick mutters and it makes my heart stutter.

Continuing before I forget what I want to say, I tell him, “I saw the information about the Bayou and couldn’t think of any other reason you’d have it except for wanting to buy my hotel. I trusted you and your opinion so much, but seeing that made me feel like I didn’t truly know you. I acted in haste and let my emotions get the best of me. I should’ve—”

“I’m sorry,” Maverick interrupts. “I know I should let you finish, but I really need to say something.” His features are pained, and I watch as his hands flex and release, like he’s trying to reign in his own emotions. “I should’ve been truthful with you from the beginning.”

My heart drops at that and I swallow again. “So, you did come here to buy my hotel?” The hurt is thick in my voice as I try to keep it steady. No tears, not today.

“No,” he says forcefully, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t come here to buy the Blue Bayou. I came here for exactly what I told you—to get away from work and my father and clear my head. All of that was true. I didn’t have any of that information about the Bayou until the day my father sent me those files and asked me to stay and work.” His face falls and he rubs a hand across his jaw, his eyes boring into mine. “I should’ve told you then, but I thought I could fix it without you ever knowing. I didn’t want you to stress out over something like that.”

“And the taxes? Did you know about that?” I ask, needing the complete truth. Because if he had known and didn’t tell me, I’m not sure I can trust him.

“No.” Maverick shakes his head, looking pissed and it’s strangely turning me on. “I didn’t know anything about the taxes. When I got back to Dallas, after my dad fired me—”

“He fired you?” I blurt. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He waves away my question and continues. “Anyway, Shep and I were talking, trying to rack our brains to think of what my father could have on the Bayou that would give him the upper hand he felt he had. Property taxes were the only thing we could think of. I tried to call and talk to you, but neither George nor Jules would let me.” Frustration is written all over his face. “I tried.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, and he looks confused. “I know you tried. Jules didn’t tell me until after the fact, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he demands, sounding defeated. “I tried to protect you and I failed.”

“I didn’t need protecting.”

Maverick’s expression changes again and this time, he looks proud, and a hint of a smile starts to reappear, smoothing out his hard lines.

“No, I guess you didn’t.” He smirks and it’s everything I can do to not launch myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him and showing him how much I missed him, but I have one more thing to say.

“Thank you.”

He cocks his head and rolls his eyes with a huff.

“I mean it. The day you walked into my hotel, you found me at my worst. I was confused and frustrated, a bit lost. I didn’t know how to pull myself out of the hole I was in, but you saw the big picture. You gave me the encouragement I needed and you shared your passion. A few weeks ago, I decided that even if I never got to see you again, if what we shared was just a fling,” I pause, chuckling to myself and shaking my head as I try to curtail the lump in my throat. “I decided that it was worth it. Even if I had to miss you every day for the rest of my life, I’d be grateful I had you to miss.”

“Stop it,” Maverick demands, closing the space between us and finally, thankfully, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him. He smells so good, just like I remember and it’s starting to smell a lot like home.

Gripping the front of his shirt to keep him here, with me, I ask, “Stop what?”

“Showing me up,” he says, leaning forward until his nose is running along my jaw, up to my ear, where he whispers, in my favorite husky voice that goes straight to my core. “I was supposed to make this good.”

“You did.” My voice is just above a whisper as I’m already losing myself to his touch, tilting my head to the side, I give him permission to continue. “You came back.”

His lips graze softly on my neck and I feel the electricity I’ve been missing—the want, the need, the...I want to say love, but that’s so crazy. It feels crazy, but it also feels right. But instead, I just say, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmurs, placing one final, searing kiss to my jaw before looking back up at me. “It’s my turn.” He smiles, putting a few inches between us, but not taking his hands off me, which I’m grateful for, because I need his touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the offer my father was trying to make on the Bayou. My intentions were honorable, but omitting the truth is as much lying as anything.”

We both smile, knowing those words came from his grandfather—from the journal. I love that we share that. I love that he left it for me and took the leap of faith that I’d read it and come back around.

“I’ll never do it again,” he promises. “I’ll never intentionally do anything to hurt you. I...” he pauses, giving a hard look like he’s trying to figure out a complicated problem. “I’m...” He huffs and then finally settles on, “I’m here to stay, if you’ll have me.”

“What?” I gape at him, unsure I heard him correctly.

“Unless, you don’t want me—”

“No,” I protest. “I want you.” I shake my head, my gaze bouncing from his lips to his eyes as I fight the battle inside to talk first and act last. I want to kiss him, so badly, but I also want to make sure I just heard him correctly. “If you’re saying you want to...move here...live here?” What starts out as a statement morphs into a question as I try to process the words coming out of my own mouth. “You want to stay here? At the Blue Bayou?” I ask.

Maverick’s smile grows and he gives me a sexy nod. “That’s what I was thinking. I’m kind of unemployed and looking to relocate.”

“I might need someone who’s good with their hands...if you know someone—”

He cuts me off mid-sentence, his lips on mine as he pulls me flush to his rock-hard body. I melt, conforming to his embrace, letting him lift me until my feet are off the ground. Our mouths go slow and then fast, forgetting we’re standing in the middle of the lobby until a throat clears behind us.

He stops first and I reluctantly remove my mouth from his. When he places me back on the ground, I look around him to see George standing a few feet away. Maverick turns.

“George,” he greets with a dip of his head, his arms still around me.

“Maverick,” George replies and I smile, knowing that it took a while for him to come around. I wasn’t even sure how he would feel when, and if, Maverick showed up, but I’m happy to see he’s found it in his heart to forgive him.

“Miss Carys,” George continues. “I was just coming to find you and see if I could maybe have a dance.” The twinkle in his eyes is something I can’t refuse.

“Of course,” I tell him, letting my hand slide down Maverick’s arm until our fingers are laced together. He follows me as I walk with George back into the courtyard, with the rest of my family and friends—new and old—and the guests who are enjoying the festive evening.

As George and I dance to an old song, I place my head on his chest and relish in the goodness of the moment. When he turns me, leading my steps, I catch Maverick’s eyes on me. He’s watching with a soft smile and I don’t look away until I’m forced to.

He’s here.

He came.

“He’s a good one,” George says quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. “He’ll do.”

Inhaling deeply, I can’t help the ridiculous smile on my face or the joy in my heart. George is the closest thing I have to a father or grandfather. His approval in my life is something I lean on and need. “I think so too,” I tell him, closing my eyes for the last few notes of the song.

When it’s over, Maverick walks up and takes my hand. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

I glance over his shoulder to see a man, around Maverick’s age, in a starched white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, making him look a little stuffy, but handsome nonetheless. He also has an expensive looking watch on his wrist and a look of importance about him. And somehow, just intuition maybe, I know who it is. “Shep.”

Maverick chuckles, turning toward me and kissing the top of my head, before he says, “Shep, I’d like you to meet Carys Matthews.”

Shep offers me his hand, which I take, allowing myself a few seconds to look him over. He is Maverick’s best friend, after all. So, I need to know everything there is to know about him.

“Nice to meet you,” I tell him with a smile.

“Likewise,” Shep says. “This guy hasn’t quit talking about you since he got back to Dallas.”

That earns him a glare from Maverick, followed by an eyeroll.

“Don’t try to deny it, man.”

“I didn’t,” Maverick retorts, then turns to me. “I thought about you...every day.”

“Me too.”

There’s an unspoken thing that passes between us, something along the lines of never again...and I’m here to stay.

Later, when everyone is gone and the mess is cleaned up, Maverick and I are the only two people in the courtyard. It’s late, like so late it’s early, but we just sent Shep upstairs to the one vacant room and Maverick went inside to grab his bag. He’s staying with me.

Forever, if I have anything to do with it.

“You tired?” he asks, a hint of suggestion in his voice.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, right?” Another little piece of wisdom from his grandfather which has us both chuckling. He might regret leaving that journal with me after all.

“You know,” he says, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and giving me a look that should be illegal—his blue eyes piercing right through me. “He also said something about when you see something you can’t live without, take it...”

“To bed,” I tell him, making up my own words of wisdom and loving the wicked grin that takes over his face. Tugging on the front of his shirt, I lead him through the courtyard, under the twinkling lights, and into my apartment.

In reality, the words of his grandfather were much more romantic: If you find something you can’t live without, take it with both hands and hold on tightly. I do want to hold on, tightly...with both hands, but in this moment, more than anything, I just want Maverick. I want to touch him, taste him, feel him...hear him—be as close to him as physically possible.

“We should definitely write that down,” Maverick teases in a low, gravelly voice as he bends forward and kisses me deeply. His hands dipping low and caressing my backside before wrapping firmly around my thighs, lifting me up and carrying me to the bedroom.