“I never have,” he said.
She knew that was true, and it poked at something deep inside her. Alexa nodded. “Then we gotta work as fast as we can in here. She was getting pretty anxious earlier.”
“I hear you,” he said. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
CHAPTER 8
Maverick had never been happier to do grunt work in his whole damn life. But he was doing it with Alexa, and that made a fucking difference. Not just because he was with her. But because she’d invited him in and welcomed his company. More than that, she seemed to be enjoying it.
It felt damn close to old times. The good old times.
An hour passed in the blink of an eye as they worked together. The happiness flowing through him made him feel damn pathetic, truth be told. But he ignored it in favor of letting himself enjoy what might be one of the last days he’d be spending with her. Ever.
He followed Alexa out to the curb with what was going to be their last bags of trash. Mrs. H had blown up at them moments before and made them promise to stop, so she was clearly at her limit. Not that it was any skin off Maverick’s nose. He’d seen it all before going years back. And, anyway, being a hoarder was a lot better than being an abuser like his father, so it wasn’t like he had any room to criticize anyone else’s parent.
Alexa dropped her bag into the big pile at the curb with a groan. She planted her hands on her hips, emphasizing her mouthwatering curves there. “I’m really sorry Mom yelled at you.” She wiped at her brow on a long sigh. Even with little makeup, her hair thrown up in a messy bun, and being dressed down in a pair of jean shorts and a form-fitting black tank top, she was still the most beautiful woman Maverick had ever known. Damn it all to hell.
“You don’t owe me any apologies, Al. I know how it is.” He dropped his bags at the curb.
“I know you do,” she said quietly. Her expression was thoughtful. Maybe even a little wistful. And it made him want to argue, convince, hell, even plead if it had a chance of making things different between them—all shit he should’ve done more of five years before.
“Can you?” she’d asked that day at Tyler’s grave. He’d heard everything she’d asked without her needing to say the words. Can you be there for me? Can you give me what I need? Can you commit? Can you do forever? And he’d frozen. Like the damn fool, like the damn immature kid, he’d been. It was a moment he’d replayed so many times, wishing he could do it over each and every time.
Alexa pulled her cell from her back pocket. “Maybe I can get one of Grant’s guys to come haul these bags away. If I leave them here ’til Monday morning, Mom will end up going through them and taking stuff back inside.”
The mention of Slater’s name was like nails against a chalkboard and hauled Maverick right back to the present. He grasped her hand. “I’ll take care of it,” he said a little more harshly than he intended.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that Maverick had lost Alexa to the wealthy asshole, Grant Slater was one of the few businessmen in Frederick who thought that the Ravens’ racing activities at Green Valley weren’t good for the town. The Ravens had allies among the restaurant, hotel, and retail store owners who benefited from the out-of-town visitors who came to see the races, and lots of locals supported the Ravens because of how many people they employed during racing season. But Slater argued that the races were detrimental to luring yuppies looking for an escape from city life into one of his developments of Mc-Mansions. So of course he’d jumped on last week’s crisis at Green Valley to get face time with the local news that he used to criticize the club. Worse than that, his wealth gave him influence, including with the mayor, who was so far into Slater’s pocket it wasn’t funny.
So Maverick had all kinds of reasons to want Alexa away from him. Not that it was his choice, was it?
“I’ll run to the house and get my truck. I can be back in twenty,” he said.
“Oh. Really?” Alexa asked, those hazel eyes wide with surprise.
Maverick just looked at her. Because no way he was opening his mouth and chancing revealing how deep it cut when she doubted him. Especially since he knew that her not believing in him—in his ability to take care of her—was part of what made her choose the wealthy, seemingly respectable asshole over him. And if that wasn’t enough, her doubts poked at his own fears about himself, born when he’d failed to take care of his mother years before.