Maverick (The Family Simon 3)

“I’ve got hot chowder, haddock and fries in my truck.”

Connor slid off his chair and came to stand beside his sister, and once again Maverick was struck by how similar they looked. The kid could easily pass as her son, and he wondered who they got their looks from—their mother or their father.

“I was kind of hoping to have dinner with you.” His mother had always told him he’d been blessed with a boatload of charm and he was hoping that Charlie wasn’t immune to it.

“Were you now?”

“I was. I even have wine.”

“Wow, you went all out.”

“I tried.”

“I don’t drink during the week.” A soft smile played around the corners of her mouth.

“I can’t promise that I won’t try to change that.”

Charlie tossed a rag onto the front desk and glanced down at her brother. “Should we let Rick come to our house for dinner?”

The boy was silent though he turned away from his sister and looked straight at Maverick. For the first time he got the full effect of those eyes and a shiver rolled over him. It was like peering into an old soul, an old soul who’d seen a lot. To get that from the eyes of a ten year old was sobering.

“What do you say, Connor?” he asked gently. “Do you mind if I join you and your sister? I got a lot of those fries that you like and a side of gravy too.”

The little boy didn’t say a word, but he didn’t break eye contact either. For whatever reason that made Maverick feel good. Connor gave a small nod and moved past his sister to where his blue coat hung from the rack.

“Wow,” Charlie murmured, eyes moving back to Maverick. “You’ve snagged an invite and we don’t give those out all that often.” She pointed to the door. “You can follow us home.”

Five minutes later Maverick pulled into the driveway behind Charlie’s truck. Their house was quaint, a grey and white cottage style home that was picture perfect for coastal Maine. With a porch that was deep and ran the length of the house, the place looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Charlie and Connor lived on the edge of town, in the opposite direction from where his brother’s place was, but she was on the water just the same and the angry Atlantic rolled across the horizon. Drifting snow curled over the beach and met the surging water head on. It was both beautiful and desolate.

He grabbed the food and followed Charlie up the front steps into the house. Again, the place looked well lived in, but also well cared for. The worn wooden floorboards were polished to a dark sheen, and w

ere a perfect foil to the light pewter walls and white trim.

The kitchen was large and the fridge—he whistled in appreciation—was an antique.

“I know. It belonged to my grandfather and still works, if you can believe it.”

Maverick ran his fingers over the appliance. “How old?”

“Fifties I think.” She looked a little unsure. “I need to wash the grease away, you can set the food over there and I’ll get to it in a minute.”

Maverick slipped out of his jacket and she took it from him. “No problem. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay.” She turned to Connor. “We have to wash our hands before dinner.” She ushered him out of the room and Maverick searched through the cupboards until he found the plates and cutlery. He set the table and placed the haddock and fries in the middle, putting the takeout containers of soup on each plate.

Connor appeared and sat in the chair near the window, his pale eyes on Maverick, his hands folded neatly in his lap. He’d set his iPad on the table and Rick nodded toward it.

“What game are you playing?”

Connor didn’t answer. In fact, he looked out the window and didn’t look back Maverick’s way until his sister entered the kitchen.

His sister. Damn, she made his gut clench and his senses spike to life. She’d changed into a pair of grey tights and a cream colored shirt that fell to mid thigh. Her face was scrubbed clean—not a speck of makeup—and her hair hung down her back in silky waves, just the way he liked.

Hell, he liked everything about this woman.

“Smells great,” she said, sitting down and leaving him to sit between the siblings. They ate their meal and talked about nothing important—the weather, the Boston Bruins (okay this girl was awesome, a hockey fan to boot) and the upcoming sled run.