Chapter Six
Windsor
“You’re just going to bang Benji all night anyway. Why do you care if I have a date?” I ask Gretchen. She’s standing in my bedroom wearing black lingerie and brandishing a riding crop. She whips the foot of my sleigh bed. She finally gave Benji the time of day. And night. And every other time they are free and aren’t working. I’m happy for her, if not a touch jealous of all the sexual attention she’s been getting.
“Let’s get this straight. I was okay with you banging Mr. Sexy Badass. Like a one night stand. I did not say you should go on a date with him. You saw him.” She fixes me with her gaze after the crack of the leather ceases. “He is not the dating kind of guy. He’s the guy you do anal with because you plan to leave after you bang him and never see him again. Not exactly the bring home to mom type.” She’s right.
“Good thing I don’t bring anyone home to meet my mom then, huh?” I don’t even visit her. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, I’d be meeting her for the first time again. My inability to lock up a husband really pissed her off. Gretchen looks a little embarrassed, but I don’t blame her for the mom comment. Mom comments are normal for most healthy adults. Unfortunately, I don’t fall into that category.
The doorbell rings saving me from Gretchen’s pity party. I rush out of my room to get the door, slinging my high heels on as I go. “Get out of my room,” I yell over my shoulder. She shoots me a dirty glare and disappears down the hallway. Nervousness hits me in spades.
This is the first date I’ve been on in a long time. I canceled my drink date with Garrett last minute. Like so last minute that he’s still pissed off at me. I tried to make amends, but his butt hurt over the flaky date night combined with the fact that neither of us landed Maverick’s account mixed like oil and water.
I yank open the door expecting to be knocked flat on my ass. “You’re early,” I admonish. I don’t plan to make anything easy for Maverick. Everything in his life seems easy. He wants a date. I’ll give him a date, but that’s it. He thrusts a small bouquet of flowers into my hand.
“For you,” Maverick says, peeking into the condo, gaze darting around like he’s taking inventory.
When his gaze lands on me, he smiles. Dimples. Scruffy jaw. Just a date may prove to be harder than I thought.
I wedge the flowers into a vase on the entryway table that already contains a bouquet from Benji. He looks a little put off at the placement of his gift. “Thanks, they’re pretty. Ready to go?” I glance over my shoulder hoping Mistress Gretchen doesn’t show her face…or weapons.
“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Windsor. I like your dress.”
God, I hate when he uses my name. It does things to every part of my body, mostly everything below my belly button. I smooth the yellow dress down and smile. It took me a while to decide on something that said “I like you and I want to have sex with you, but it’s not going to happen.”
“My dress thanks you,” I say, shutting the door behind us. I hear the tail end of a whip cracking and have to stifle a laugh.
“What was that?” Maverick asks, eyebrows raised, looking back at my door.
I pull his hand to lead him toward the exit. “Just your warning,” I admit. He smells so delicious now that we’re in such close proximity that it makes my mouth water.
“I figured I shouldn’t bring my bike tonight. Although, it would have been the highlight of my week to see you get on it. In that dress,” he whispers in my ear, and goose bumps prickle all over my damn body. He nods to his car. Which is a completely awesome, obviously old, and totally refurbished Chevelle. The paint is a deep blue and the racing stripe that spans the car is a light silver. The car is as hot as the owner.
“Nice car,” I tell him, ignoring the comment about the highlight of his week. Hardly. I bet he’s seen multiple panties this week. His answering smile is, as always, breathtaking. I’m glad nothing covers his eyes tonight. I want to see all of him.
He opens the door for me and I slink down into the buttery leather. Watching him walk in front of the car, I fight the urge to tear off my dress and have my way with him, right here, in my parking lot like a dirty hooker. So I focus on my surroundings instead. His car is pristine on the inside—insanely clean and meticulously kept. I assume when you have a car this nice, it’s what you do. Or pay someone to do it for you is likely the case with Maverick.
I pull down the visor to use the mirror, and I sense his eyes on me, watching my every move. I brush at a loose eyelash and turn to him. “Where are we going? I guess I should have asked earlier, before I dressed up.”
“We’re going to Swordfish. You look perfect,” he says. Not perfect. Overdressed. His dark green striped shirt is buttoned almost all the way up, concealing his tattoos. The sleeves aren’t rolled up either, so nothing shows there either. I’m momentarily disappointed. I may not be able to sample this perfect piece of trouble, but I really wanted to ogle him.
He keeps his eyes on the road, completely aware of everything going on while he drives. I’ve never seen anyone so focused while doing twenty-five on a residential road. “I want to apologize for the day in your office. I want to start over. Starting tonight,” he says.
His cell lights up, but he doesn’t make a reach for it. I can’t help but see Jessica’s green text bubble flashing in the center cup holder. Who doesn’t have an iPhone? Ugly jealousy rears and I tell myself only a horrible person would read the text, so I don’t. Though If I read more texts, I would have known about Nashhole’s affair. It was right under my freaking nose. I think he got off on parading it around without me discovering it.
“I’m okay with that,” I say, leaning toward him. “I’m going to completely ignore all of Morganna’s warnings and have a nice date with you. Because she has me thinking you’re a crazy prick. I really just want to walk into her office and stick my tongue out and tell her I’m still alive, and you weren’t a complete Neanderthal—which you do kind of look like. So, please don’t disappoint me. Let me win this round with her,” I ramble. “One condition though.”
“Anything,” he says.
“Forget what I said on the beach today about the Nashhole, okay? I feel like by telling you, it gives him power over me…still,” I admit, trying to keep my voice strong, even though the mere thought of my former life makes me feel weak. “I’m embarrassed I told a complete stranger my woes.” He laughs and the sound makes me jump a little.
“What exactly is a Nashhole?” I forget normal people don’t know what a Nashhole is.
“Sorry, yeah. That’s my ex-fiancé’s name. Not really. It’s John Nash, but Nashhole fits him a little better,” I confess. His eyebrows scrunch together, and I regret saying his full name. “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. We’re both starting over tonight. I’ll pretend you didn’t say crude things at the bar…among other things, and you’ll forget I’ve lost the ability to love anything except numbers and my routine.” Another rumble of laughter buzzes around me, consuming the entire car. His voice…his laugh is like a stick of dynamite to my willpower.
We pull into valet parking and he finally grabs his over-worked cell, but he doesn’t look at it. He slips it into his pocket instead. I shouldn’t give a shit, but I want to see his face when he sees the text. I’m sure it’s one of his many call girls. The specific, non-enviable term is frog hog. Women that only have sex with SEALs.
“I can agree with that. Wait here,” he says getting out of the car. I see him take a huge breath as he slams the door and approaches the teenager eye fucking the Chevelle. The boy has his hand out waiting for the keys. I don’t even think he’s seen the Maverick wall yet. A quick exchange that leaves the teen completely somber finishes, and Maverick opens my door and offers his huge hand.
I’m impressed with his manners. Not that I was expecting him to club me over the head and drag me into his cave, but it’s almost like he has a refined touch that I never expected to find in a man…a SEAL, like him. He doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk in, or when we take a seat at a small candlelit table. I narrow my eyes and peek at him sideways as we settle in. I see his jaw work as he surveys the restaurant around us. His eyes dart around, but when his gaze lands on mine, he smiles.
“The room has been mentally cleared?” I joke. I’ve seen all the movies about SEALs. Living in Virginia Beach, I’m surrounded by the allure of it. I’ve picked up some of the terminology…and I might have Google searched just because I was curious. It garners a small smile. No more SEAL terms. Check.
“Tell me about yourself. Tell me something no one else knows,” he says. Wow. Cutting to the damn chase, was he? I shouldn’t balk, I wanted this—his interest in me…with clothes on, but I’m not prepared.
His lips are pursed completely. It’s like he has major issues even asking me personal details. It’s not his regular M.O., I realize. “There isn’t much that everyone doesn’t know about me. It’s sort of obvious…you know, you probably already know the worst,” I pause. “I’ll tell you some important things though.”
He glances over my shoulder. “Perfect. Let’s hear it.”
“I come from a small town in Georgia. Which is where I met Morganna in college. I like dolphins and the beach, which is why I moved to Virginia Beach. I prefer animals to people, because you can always trust them without question. I go to the animal shelter at least once a month and can’t take home a puppy because the uncalculated risks are way too high,” I ramble, taking a sip of my wine that just arrived. “Running is my favorite form of exercise, and I hate gyms and gym rats with a passion. Everything outdoors is my jam. I’m probably the only person that has a classic rock station and a 90’s one hit wonders station on my Pandora. Gretchen is probably banging Benji reverse cowgirl on my bed as we speak,” I admit, take a deep breath, and continue, “I believe in romance and one true loves despite everything I’ve been through.”
Maverick wears a huge goofy grin when I finally look his direction. I had to avert my gaze to be able to admit these things.
Time passes as we chat about everything I just rambled on about. He seems interested in every aspect of my life, like a detective trying to gain as many details about it as he can. When it gets to the awkward level, I switch the focus off myself…or try.
“Now, you tell me about you,” I demand, looking him straight in the eye.
He rubs his hands together, and the image is so youthful that it actually takes me back a little. “Not yet. Speed round. I ask a question and you give me a one word answer,” he growls. With his playful eyes and dimples wreaking havoc on my entire body, there is no way I’ll say no.
“Go,” I say, smiling.
“First thought that came to mind when you saw me at the bar.” I can’t control my mouth. It pops open in surprise and I start to stutter, but he silences me with a swift shake of his head.
“One word, Windsor,” he says, leaning toward me. His delicious smelling cologne trickles into my senses.
“Trouble.”
He pauses, but his poker face is tight, unreadable. “Second thought after that one.”
I want to say “bad news” in one word.
“Stop thinking so much. One word. It’s easy,” he says.
“Predator,” I whisper. I know he hears me because that wild smile licks up and I automatically retreat into myself a little. He looks exactly like a predator should look. It should warn me off or send me running with my tail between my legs, but it doesn’t.
“Third thing.” He’s fishing. The almighty Maverick Hart is fishing for something. I grin a little.
“Hot,” I admit, trying to keep the blush from my face. I already know what I’m going to say if he asks for a fourth. “But that doesn’t negate predator. That came before.”
“Way more than one word,” he says. “Number three is always number one. You lied.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“How do you know that?”
“I have my ways. You’ll just have to trust me.” It’s something in the way he says it, but I do.
“You’re wrong. I mean yes, I did lie. Number three wasn’t the first thing I thought when I saw you,” I tell him. I take a deep breath and get ready to shock the hell out of him. He folds his hands on the table in front of him and waits expectantly. Our food came during one of the lulls, so I shove some vegetables around my plate.
“Go ahead. First word you thought when you saw me.”
I meet his hazel eyes full on and say, “Wet.”
He doesn’t even look surprised. He smiles at me, but this time it’s different, calculated. It’s a half smile, one side pulling up more than the other. One dimple. He nods his head a couple times and I swear between those two things alone, I am actually wet right now. I’m also blushing and totally embarrassed.
“Someone spilled a drink on my shoe…remember? Literally, I was wet,” I say. His lips press into a firm line, but his eyes are still amused. Thankfully, I remember that part of the night to fall back on. “I want to know about you. You’ve already accrued enough information to stalk me for the rest of my life.” His gaze darts behind my shoulder again, but this time I turn around to see what has his attention. A massive guy, who could only be one of The Guys, is wobbling, very confidently, from the bar to our table.
“Wining, dining, and then sixty-nining? That’s not your style, buddy. Introduce me to your friend,” the guy says, as he eye fucks every corner of my face and body in the most uncomfortable way possible. He’s good looking, but not nearly appealing as the guy sitting next to me.
“Get the fuck out, Steve,” Maverick says. “Go back to the bar.” He doesn’t tell the guy my name. Shit. This is the guy Morganna is trying to set me up with. I’m uncomfortable in the worst kind of way.
“Hey darlin’, you’re hot with a rockin’ body. Come find me when you want a real man,” Steve says. Maverick makes some inarticulate noise from behind me. Morganna is going to hear a rash of shit from me the next time we speak. This guy is totally skeevy. Worse yet, he thinks I’m a freaking frog hog. “See ya buddy,” Steve says as he ambles back to the bar.
I am absolutely mortified when I see a bleached blonde girl grab his crotch and smile. She. Touched. His. Dick. In. Public. When I finally turn back to Maverick, I’m not sure if I’m mad, sad, or thankful he didn’t mention my name. He has his head in his hands.
“Jesus Christ, Maverick. Who the fuck are you? I know what you do, but honestly if that,” I wave my hand over to Steve and his public mauling, and then gesture to myself, “is what you want or expect from me, then you have the wrong girl.” I shut my mouth and refuse to say anything further. This is his life, he can do whatever he wants. I am the variable for tonight. “Just one date,” I remind myself out loud.
He takes my hand, swallows hard and sighs. “Please, forgive me for that. He’s a real jackass. I’m sure he didn’t realize I was on a real date,” he says, defending the caveman.
“What the freak is a real date?” Now, I’m mad. I’ve settled for mad. I want to say anything to make him angry, too. “I have that guy’s phone number. Morganna has been trying to set me up with him!” I point at Steve without looking back, because the sight nauseates me. Maverick’s eyes widen a little. I swallow the rest of my wine in a large gulp and stand. He just looks at me from his seat, his gorgeous eyes lingering on my body for a touch longer than I’m comfortable with.
He doesn’t stand. He takes another bite off his plate. “You can’t go out with him. You know that, right?”
“Excuse me? I can go out with anyone I please. Maybe a public show of sex is exactly what I need to get my head straight,” I say, pushing in my chair, making it obvious I’m ready to leave. He sips his water and looks at me over the rim of his glass. When he doesn’t say anything I tell him, “At least I know what he wants from me. That’s more than I can say about you, Mr. T. H.”
For the very first time, his tough guy front fades. He actually looks a little hurt. It disappears a second later as he brings the cloth napkin across his mouth, wiping away any trace of emotion. He stands up, places some cash on the table, and tucks his chair in. The quickest dinner on planet earth just took place.
“Thank you for dinner, Maverick,” I nearly spit, a fake smile plastered on my face. If my venom affects him, he doesn’t let me know. He does grab my hand unexpectedly and leads me from the restaurant. The valet boy scurries when he sees us exit the building.
“I’m sorry again. I never should have brought you here,” he says, confusing the hell out of me. I’m offended, my blood boils. I feel hot, and not in the fun kind of way that he had me feeling on the way here.
“I’m sorry you brought me out, too. I’m obviously more of an idiot than I previously thought. I deserve this.”
He just shakes his head, not even attempting to correct what I’m inferring. So, he’s sorry he took me out. Everything that means crushes me at once. When he opens the door for me, I honestly consider asking the valet boy for a ride home. Surely, he wouldn’t turn me down. Maverick’s eyes look sad, and it’s the solitary reason I get in. Like maybe he’s just as dejected as I feel, though I don’t see how that’s possible.
The silent drive to my condo is awkward. I watch his phone pop up with a zillion text messages in the cup holder between us. Again, he doesn’t even glance at it. I wonder how many messages he got while we were at dinner. The thought sickens me. I never should have assumed this would be a real date. I never should have told him anything about myself. But, what the hell, he doesn’t give a shit about me. When he makes a move to get out of the car when we arrive at my condo, I hold my hand out to stop him.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself to the door. I wouldn’t want you to regret that, too. I’m sure you have a lot of texting and calling to catch up on anyway,” I tell him, motioning to the glowing iPhone in between us. I chance a stealthy look at his face. He is pissed off. Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m glad.
He picks up the phone and shakes it side to side. “This? This is what you’re worried about? The fucking electronic device full of random women and faces that mean nothing to me?” Rolling down the manual car window, he throws the phone across the parking lot. It hits a telephone pole and pieces scatter everywhere. “I don’t give a shit about those texts or the phone calls.” He runs a hand through his hair and pulls on the tips before releasing them. Throwing his big hand out, he motions to me. “You are the one sitting in my car, Windsor. Women don’t sit in my car. You are the one I wanted to take out to dinner. Even as fucking disastrous as it was…I don’t see anyone else sitting here, but you. Do you?”
I stare at him wide-eyed in disbelief. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared down to my bones. Maverick flying off the handle is terrifying.
When he realizes I’m not going to speak, he continues. “I don’t regret taking you out. I regret that Steve made you upset. I regret that I took you somewhere where my friends might be. In all honesty, I regret the moment I ever laid eyes on you.” The gasp that fills the car is my own. The nice things he says are buried deep in the ground after utters his last sentence.
“In all honesty,” I use his words, “I regret the fucking moment you took your first breath.” I exit the car and don’t look back. The meanest thing I’ve ever said was directed at a person I barely know. It feels good. It feels bad. It feels like I wasted my whole night on a crapshoot. At least maybe I’ll be able to forget about him and his body. I’ll even tell Morganna she was right. I’m that relieved it’s over.
I hear his car door slam and then muttered profanities under his breath. He catches up to me fast. Too fast. He grabs my arm to spin me around.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he breathes.
“No, I finished for you.”
“I regret the moment I laid eyes on you because you ruined everything, Windsor.” His grip lightens on my arm.
“That’s so much better, Maverick. Really,” I say, my anger wearing off and pure annoyance blistering to the surface. I’m annoyed that his touch is warm, and his words are confusing. I’m annoyed with myself that I can’t just walk away.
“I want you,” he says. “You said you didn’t know what I wanted from you. I’m telling you. I want you. I want you to be mine. That’s all I know for sure.”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “Unbelievable. I need a night to sleep on this epiphany of yours. The hot and colds are almost too much for me to keep up with,” I admit, still shaking my head. Denial. He’s said the words. Some part of me wants to believe them, but the skeptical part of my brain whispers other things.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face and cups my bare shoulder with his other hand. The magic shivers start again. He leans down and I have to work at controlling my shaking body. He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me. He swallows and the tattoo on his neck dances. I want to lick it. The desire is back in spades. I tilt my chin up, waiting.
And he hugs me. He gives me the awkward freaking hug. The one I give my boss when she gives me a gift card to Starbucks on my birthday. When he leans back, the one-dimpled smile is on his face. Even though I’m still mentally sorting out the hug, I want to lick that, too.
“I’ll call you. Bye, Windsor,” he says. It’s okay for him to fuck my name with his voice, but he definitely doesn’t want to have sex with me tonight. I am seriously in need of my therapist.
I watch him walk back to his car, which is still running, and try to decipher the Maverick code. I can’t. I probably won’t ever be able to. When I enter the condo I come to the conclusion that with a man like Maverick, you don’t try to decipher, you just ride the waves as they come and hope like hell you can hold on tight enough to enjoy the ride— or at the very least prevent yourself from drowning.
As I try to fall asleep several agonizing hours later, my phone chimes with a new text.
Are you awake? I got a new phone and number. It’s miraculously silent.
I stare at it blindly, trying to decide how best to respond.
I type back, I wish my head were as silent as your phone.
A second later. Go out with me tomorrow. All day. I’ll pick you up at 9.
Only if you promise not to awkward hug me ever again.