And then it was just her and Maverick. Well, there were some other Ravens still around as they made their way through the clubhouse. But the moment Maverick placed his hand against her lower back, he was the only man Alexa could think about.
The only man she wanted.
CHAPTER 17
As they walked across the darkening parking lot to the chop shop, the evening air still warm, Maverick felt a little like he’d traveled back in time. Alexa was here. Hanging with him and his brothers. And it felt good, natural, right.
Only tonight had actually been better and worse. Better because Maverick was older now, old enough to know what he actually wanted out of life, old enough to know that he didn’t want to come home to an empty house forever, old enough to understand down to his marrow how important family was—and that he wanted one of his own. He hadn’t understood all of that five years ago. Not really. Not enough to fight for it the way he should’ve. Not enough to man up when she’d all but asked him to.
Not enough to ask her what he should’ve asked her.
Damnit. Why hadn’t he fought for her—for them—harder? Why hadn’t he laid it all on the line and gotten down on one knee? Especially when he’d known that in her grief over losing Tyler she wasn’t strong enough to do it herself. But then watching her head get turned by Slater had fucked with his head. Maverick had let that shit happen. So that was on him.
At the same time, the night was worse because Mav had no fucking idea whether Alexa wanted any of that in return—with him. Sure, the chemistry between them was still off the charts. And the sex this morning had been phenomenal. Even better than he remembered it from before, and before had been fantastic. Worse because seeing Alexa at the clubhouse only made Maverick want her more, want her to see what he saw, want her for his, for keeps, forever.
And he knew it wasn’t fair to even expect her to know what she wanted from or with him. Not when she was only a day into the implosion of the life she’d thought she wanted. There was no reason why she’d feel the same urgency he did. The urgency not to make the same mistake again, the urgency to hold tight and never let go. No matter how rough the ride got this time.
All of which meant it was going to fucking suck if he turned out to be her rebound man. And only her rebound man. And Maverick knew there was a chance that’s all he was.
But, fuck, if that’s all he could have of her, he’d take it. And deal with the fallout later.
The chop shop was a long building with four bay doors and an office at one end. He pushed in through the office door and hit the lights. The two desks in the room were primarily his and Phoenix’s, though others used them sometimes. But this wasn’t where Maverick did the lion’s share of his nine-to-five. Instead, the last of the bays was his most regular domain. Kicking on lights as they went, he led Alexa through the shop past bikes other Ravens were working on to his space, separated from the rest by a cinder block wall. A sign over the door they walked through was the same as one that hung above the outside bay door and read, Maverick Custom Cycles.
“Everything looks the same,” Alexa said, slowly glancing around the room. She shook her head.
“What?” he asked, trying to see what she was seeing, trying to understand where her head was.
She gave a little shrug. “Standing here . . .” She cleared her throat and met his gaze. And damn if her eyes weren’t a little glassy. “It feels like I was just here. And it also feels like I’ve lived a whole lifetime since I was last here. I don’t know.” She looked away and moved closer to the bike he was working on.
So her head was kicking around some of the thoughts his was, then.
He watched her move around his space, liking seeing her there. How many hours had they spent here together? Her keeping him company when he was up late finishing something on deadline. Her singing along to the radio. Him teaching her about bikes and engines the way he’d been taught, and her being genuinely interested, asking a million and a half questions.
Them not being able to keep their hands off of each other, even when there were guys out in the rest of the shop working.
Heat rushed through his veins at the stream of memories that played against his mind’s eye.
“I love the copper,” she said, walking around the bike, running her fingers over the smooth, mirrored surface. “That really looks sharp. Kinda vintage.”