"I think you're reading too much into this," I say with a grunt, crossing my arms and leaning back against the stall post, but fuck if her words don't hit me hard.
"I'm not and you know it. She's scared. I get it now. She never, not once in her life, found someone else strong enough to break that wall down and sever those chains to you, no matter how open she was to searching for someone that could. And I would guess she just realized that no one ever will."
My stomach knots, and as much as I would love to deny what Quinn said, a big part of me knows she's right. I've felt the same way through the years. The tug my heart felt whenever I would think about her telling me that I would always feel the absence of her, that night in the trees.
I pushed Leighton away because deep down, I knew she was it for me and if I admitted that, I wouldn't be able to get out. I struck with words sharper than any physical touch, knowing damn well that I was pushing her away so that she wouldn't be able to keep me here. Staying here would have killed me, even though leaving her did the trick all the same.
All I had wanted, my whole life, was to be the best damn cowboy the rodeo had ever seen, but all it took was once glance in her direction and none of it mattered anymore.
All she had to do was walk into a room and I forgot it all.
I forgot because she became the only thing I wanted more than my need to chase my dreams. The only thing I craved more than escaping.
For one split second, before I could change my mind, I allowed myself to become what I always feared--Buford Davis--and I used my words to cause enough damage to ensure that I would never have the one thing that would keep me in this town and away from my dreams.
Her.
Only now I know that those dreams meant nothing without her to share them with. I gave up one thing to chase the other, and right now I'm just praying I'm not too late to fix the mistakes of my past.
"Fight for her, Maverick," Quinn whispers.
I look in her eyes, let her words sink in, and speak the truth. "Workin' on it, honey."
11
LEIGHTON
"Why Ya Wanna" by Jana Kramer
"That's the sixth pie today that you've thrown in the trash, sweetheart."
I look up at Jana, blowing a loose blond strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail out of my face. "It didn't taste right," I grumble, more to myself than her, feeling the need to defend my crazy actions.
And that's just what I've been doing. Acting like I'm bat shit crazy all because some man has my mind all screwed up.
"Oh, I'm sure that isn't the case. You could make them in your sleep. Why don't you take off, beautiful girl? I can finish up here and get the fridges prepped."
"That's not going to happen."
"And why not?"
I look up with a smile, the first one I've had come naturally all day, and laugh at her sassiness. "I already filled the fridges for Monday's stock."
Jana throws up her hands. "Well, honey child, what are you still doing here then? We closed hours ago!"
"Better question would be why are you still here? You know I love being here. It's the best place around to think." I laugh, moving to the sink to wash my pie-filled hands and gather the cleaning supplies to scrub down the countertops.
Truth be told, there was nothing wrong with that pie, or any of the other ones. I just didn't realize--again--that I baked another one of Maverick's favorite pies until after I'd pulled it out hot and steaming from the oven. I had been doing it all day. I would be elbow deep in something off our normal menu, then next thing I knew I was looking at a cookie dough pie with no memory of making it.
I couldn't shake him, and it was pissing me off. He was back in my mind deeper than he had ever been before.
Jana pointedly turned away and started folding towels. "What else am I gonna do?"
"I'm pretty sure that Bart would be more than happy to give you some suggestions," I joke, knowing damn well that her man would be happy to see her home early on a Saturday night. "You ready to marry that handsome man yet?" I laugh at the old joke that never seems to get old when it comes to Jana and Bart. She's been putting off marrying the poor man for so long I'm not even sure why he keeps asking, but ask he does. I think we're up to eleven times now he's asked her to be his wife.
"That man is probably already passed out in front of the TV. You know he spends his Saturdays catching up on those stupid shows he misses all week. And I already told you, I'll marry his cranky butt the day you take a vacation!"
"Nothing wrong with daytime television, Jana. And I don't need a vacation." I continue to giggle to myself. She might joke, but I think she continues to tell him no because she likes telling people she's living in sin. Every time I ask her when she's going to finally marry her man of the past fifteen years, she comes up with another off-the-wall excuse.
She grumbles for a second, but clearly decides to drop our constant fight over me taking time off in favor of keeping the mood light. "There is plenty wrong with a fifty-five-year-old man that makes sure and records every episode of Days of Our Lives."
I laugh hard at the vision of old Bart watching his weekly soaps. The best part, he still refuses to use the DVR. He's been setting the timer on his old VHS player to record them on tape. Funniest thing I've ever seen was when one of them didn't tape and he went on and on about some man named DiMera, or something like that. Of course, it could have been because his overalls came unhooked in the middle of his rant and he ended up in the middle of the PieHole with his pants around his ankles and his hot pink boxers with red lips all over them.
I turn to face Jana and put my hands on my hips, using my best bossy voice. "Go home. We closed two hours ago."
"I'm aware. I'm the one that's been sitting here for one of those hours watching you mumble under your breath about a certain tall, dark, and handsome cowboy," she jokes, her hot pink lips turning up knowingly--which is impossible because I haven't breathed a word of that night to anyone. Not even Quinn.
"I have not." I gasp, my face heating.
"Oh, you most certainly have been."
Do not ask. Do not ask. Do not . . . "What have I been saying?" Shit, why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?
"I think a better question would be what are you gonna do about it?" she asks.
"Do about what?"
"Your broken hooha."
I drop the bottle of sterilizer I had been using and gape at her.
"I might be old, but I know a thing or two. You aren't broken just because you had some good lovin'."
I will the kitchen floor to open me up and swallow me whole, just so I don't have to suffer through this talk with my fifty-plus-year-old employee. "This is so embarrassing. Can't you call it something different?"
"Oh, hush, you. Now tell me, why do you think your hooha's broken?"
I know my face isn't just heated now; it's on fire with one hell of a blush. "This is so not a conversation that we're going to have."
"Have you tried to play with yourself? You know, given yourself a little bean lovin'? That should show you that all is in working order. You know Bart, God love him, throws his back out at least one night a week, so if you need some tips, I'm your girl. I've got it down to a science."
I cover my ears with my hands and let out a little screech. "Oh, my God, we are so not talking about this. You have no boundaries. You know that, right?"
Jana shrugs. "That's fine with me. You don't even have to talk, just listen. You know the town's already talking, so I've had plenty of time to think about this; let me see if I have it all right. You stormed out of here right after that handsome thing gave you one hell of a kiss. Now, I might not know a lot, but all I had to do was look at the stubborn set in your shoulders and I just knew you weren't going home. My guess is that you chased after him and you guys did a lot more than argue, right?" She finishes with a wag of her brows.
"Jana," I warn. "Boundaries."
"Boundaries, my tail. Don't you dare ignore me, missy. I've been wait
ing for this to happen for way too long. You have never, not once, been this out of sorts over a boy and we both know why. Even that fancy New York man that came blowing through town wasn't able to get this kind of reaction from you, and honey, all he had to do was look at a woman and boom. So get over whatever ridiculous embarrassment you're feeling and tell me about it."
"I better not regret this," I mumble to myself, ignoring her jab about Trenton, a flame that flickered for all of two months before I realized his candle would never hold up to the brightness that Maverick's still burned. "Yes, we slept together. Yes, the earth moved. No, I haven't talked to him since and don't plan on it. I'm too busy dodging town gossip thanks to that damn kiss. Yes, my hooha, as you so lovingly put it, is most definitely broken. Even I can't get it to work because HE BROKE IT!"
She starts laughing just as I finish. I should have known I would regret telling her all of that. She holds her hand up when it becomes clear that she can't control her hilarity and just points behind me.
I spin.
Then die.
"Now, I highly doubt I broke anything, but I would be more than willin' to check, darlin'."
Oh, my God. Kill me now.
"You--you--don't you say another word!" I try to steady my voice even as I feel my face turn a bright shade of red. If this could get any more mortifying, I'm not sure how.
He holds up his hands and I turn to Jana, only to see her walking through the swinging back door, purse in hand and shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. She doesn't pause in her stride, just keeps going until all I see is an empty hallway. I use the sudden silence around us to attempt to calm my frazzled nerves.
"Looks like it's just us now."
"I said no talking!" I yell, still peering down the hallway as though Jana might pop back up and save me from this mortifying scene. I can't believe her. Well, I guess I actually can. The sneaky woman knew exactly what she was doing. Hell, she probably let him in before she started in on her questions.
Wait a minute. "How did you get in here?"
"Front door was unlocked, darlin'. Not a soul in sight, but it wasn't hard to find y'all since you weren't exactly whispering."
"You didn't hear anything." It's a statement more than a question.
He laughs, the deep and rough sound echoing around the empty room, pinging off the walls, and shooting straight into my body before settling between my legs and waking up the one part of my body that's been completely dormant for the past two weeks.
Maverick looks good. Too good. His jeans faded in all the right places. I'm sure if he turned around, the view would be just as nice. Well, maybe not, since I'm currently graced with a view of the healthy bulge between his legs. The faded denim around his crotch doing nothing to conceal his growing arousal, instead only highlighting it further as the material continues to tighten around it.
"Eyes up here, Leighton."
I shiver, loving the sound of my name out of his mouth. God, some things never change. Even though I know it isn't wise, I let myself soak up the pleasure. Even if it's just a second's worth, it's something and after a decade of nothing--well, anything is better than that.
It isn't easy, but I remind myself of all the reasons why this needs to stop right now. I give myself a little jolt, hoping to fire up my stalled brain, and narrow my eyes at him. The pleasure leaves my body as the stubborn self-preservation returns.
"Why are you here?" I'm proud of the cold note I've managed to muster in my voice, even as my insides are already on fire with his presence.
He unfolds his arms, the corded muscles moving beneath his skin with the movement. Lifting one arm, he points at me, confusion painted all over his face. "What just happened? One second you were an open book, givin' me it all, and then just like that the shutters came down and you're actin' like I'm some stranger."
"You might as well be," I mumble under my breath.
He takes a step forward, his booted foot coming down with a heavy thud. "That isn't goin' to work," he says, twirling the finger that is still pointed in my direction in my face. "I might be a lot of things, but a stranger ain't one."
"You've been gone a long time, Maverick. We don't know each other anymore, so by definition, that would make you a stranger."
"You make a habit out of opening your legs for people you don't know?"
I gasp at his harsh words.
"Fuck," he says with a grunt, taking off his black Stetson and resting it on the stainless steel worktable next to him, his thick raven locks sticking up in a million different directions. "Look, I didn't come here to fight with you. I apologize for jumping the gate with sarcastic bullshit that you don't deserve. But we need to talk."
"Wow, did you practice that little speech in front of your mirror?" I cross my arms and fist my hands at my sides, hiding behind the protective stance.
"Don't be a bitch, Leighton, it doesn't suit you."
My cheeks flame. "You're right, I'm sorry," I respond. "Look, it's been a long day and I just want to go home and crash. Can we just do this another time?"
"I don't think so. I gave you some time, but I'm done waiting around while you just ignore me. I called, you haven't responded. I stop by your house, you don't come to the door. You ran out on me, Leigh, not the other way around, and I want to know why."
"Are you serious right now?"
He nods, but doesn't say anything else.
"That night . . . what we did . . . it was a mistake."
"Wrong."
I jerk my head back at his forceful and quick denial.
"Oh, no, it was. We were caught up in the emotions of the day. We weren't thinking clearly and things just got out of hand. From what I've heard, you had a lot on your mind before you even crossed over the county line, and when you add in why you were even back, well, it makes sense that you weren't exactly of sound mind. I let my anger get the better of me and, to be honest, my hurt fueled my actions. We both are guilty of letting our emotions power the lust that brought us together. But now we need to forget about it and move on."
He's silent a beat before he throws his head back and lets out a boom of laughter that brings goose bumps to my body. It had been so long since I heard him laugh like this that I was immobile by the sheer beauty of it. The deep rumble vibrating from deep in his chest was causing his whole body to shake with his hilarity.
It was beautiful.
He was beautiful.
And I was in big trouble.
12
MAVERICK
"Run" by Matt Nathanson
I couldn't even explain to myself how I'd ended up here, in the PieHole kitchen after hours facing the woman who'd rocked my world two weeks ago and then disappeared, but I was done waiting for her to come to me. Just being near her eases that knot of tension that I've carried around for longer than I care to admit, telling me that this was the right move for me.
Just like that. Clarity floods my system.
After Quinn left, I'd worked around the barn for a few more hours doing stupid labor that no one wants to do without being told. By the time I left there wasn't a single stall out of the twenty that were in the main barn that didn't look perfect. A lot of good the busywork did me, though. I kept replaying the conversation with Quinn over and over.
It wasn't the first time I felt soul-shaking regret over how I left things with Leighton all those years ago, but it was the first time that I was determined to do something to fix it. To make sure that regret was no longer allowed to cling to me like a parasite that wouldn't stop sucking its host dry. I was done with regret. However, it wasn't until I walked in and saw her that I realized I would do just about anything to turn back time. Now I didn't just want to repair the damage I had inflicted--I needed to more than I've ever needed a single damn thing in my life.
Not even my drive to leave town as a teenager had been this strong.
I continue to laugh at her last mouthy bullshit as my eyes roam over her body. Her long legs are bare and the frayed stri
ngs from her cutoff shorts just teased at the top of her thighs, the little white strings against her smooth tan skin making it look like silk. She shifts, and those strings dance across her skin and I groan, memories of our night together slamming into my mind. I know what those thighs feel like now. I don't just have to wonder if they would be as soft as they look while hugging my hips tightly and welcoming my hard thrusting.
Nope. I know exactly what she feels like and it's fucking branded into my skin.
I have to force my eyes from her legs. It isn't until I get to the logo of her bakery right above her breasts that I'm able to stop thinking about bending her over the table and getting those legs back around my hips. The heavy fullness of her chest makes the black cotton stretch tight; the flour sprinkled all over the fabric distracts my mind and finally gets me to focus.
She looks like a complete mess.
One hell of a knock-me-on-my-ass beautiful mess.
Thoughts that I've missed this for so long fill my mind; the regret I've been so determined to stop feeling comes back. I could have had this, but instead I threw it all away because I wasn't strong enough to stick around.
She gives me a look of absolute impatience and frustration when I finish the slow drag of my eyes up her body. Her looks might have rendered me speechless but it's this right here, her, that has my heart speeding back up as the feeling of contentment fills my body.
Her blond hair is in a messy ponytail gathered at the top of her head. Her flawless skin is completely free of any traces of makeup. She looks so much like she did ten years ago. Young and full of so much beauty inside of her that it just radiates from her every pore.