God. I should’ve stayed away.
“Your arm,” she said, staring at that black band and trying to distract herself from the way he made her feel. Still.
Maverick frowned, and for just a second his true feelings reached the surface of his eyes. Grief. Anguish. Rage. “A friend,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” When he didn’t say anything more, Alexa hugged herself. Despite their long estrangement, she hated seeing him in pain, but it wasn’t like she could comfort him either. Finally, something occurred to her. “Hey, how did you know I was locked out? And that I couldn’t move the box?” Voicing the question gave rise to goose bumps on her arms.
He just looked at her, that little eyebrow arch making itself known again.
“No, Maverick.” She shook her head as realization set in. “Oh my God. You can’t do that. You can’t be . . . hanging around and watching out for me.”
“Someone has to—”
“Grant. Grant watches out for me,” she said, the words falling uncomfortably from her tongue.
“Is that what he was doing when that happened?” He nodded toward her, his gaze locked on her face, and she knew he was talking about the bruise on her cheek. What wasn’t faded was fairly well covered with makeup, but they both knew it was there.
“Maverick—”
“Look, I don’t want to fight,” he said, closing the distance between them.
He stood so close she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. So close that all she’d have to do was reach out her hand and he’d be hers again. The thought came entirely out of left field and nearly made her dizzy. She hadn’t thought of Maverick that way in years.
What was wrong with her? She was over him. Had been for a long time. For a lifetime.
Shaking her head, she managed, “Good. Me, neither.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a way to get him to stop watching out for her. If Grant found out, he’d know she’d gone to Maverick or suspect she was still seeing Maverick, and neither would be good for her. Or Maverick.
The universe of strings Grant could pull—or have pulled—was bigger and scarier than she liked to think about. She didn’t know many specifics because he shielded her from them, but she’d heard rumors and rumblings. Payoffs. Threats. Intimidation. Though maybe none of that was true. Maybe such things were rumors spread by competitors trying to take Grant down a notch, just like he said when she once asked about the things she’d heard.
Looking down at the space between them, Maverick planted his hands on his hips. “Damnit Alexa, you deserve better—”
She gave in to the dangerous urge to touch him and laid a hand on his chest. She wasn’t sure what else he’d planned to say, but suddenly she couldn’t bear for him to finish that sentence. With a quick shake of her head, she said, “Don’t, Maverick. Okay? If you say anymore, we’ll just end up fighting.”
Maverick huffed, his gaze absolutely on fire as it raked over her face and settled on her lips. He leaned toward her, just the littlest bit, and her heart lurched into her throat. She was suddenly sure he was going to kiss her. And, oh, God, she wanted him to. She should push him away, say no, but she didn’t know how to say no to him, never had, and especially not with five years of suppressed need roaring through her. She licked her lips, her breath catching, her mouth hungry for a taste . . .
Meow.
Lucy wound her body around Alexa’s legs, and Alexa jumped back, breaking the spell that had wrapped around them. God, what was she thinking? Needing a shield, Alexa scooped the hairless cat into her arms and hugged her tight.
Mav eyeballed the cat and made a face. “What the hell is that?” he asked, more than a little amusement in his voice. He stepped back from her, like maybe he needed the space from whatever had just happened between them.
“It’s Lucy,” Alexa said, kissing her soft head.
“But . . . what is it? Or . . . happened to it?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. So her cat was bald. And had wrinkly skin. And was wearing an argyle sweater. And had the world’s disproportionately biggest ears. “It’s a sphynx cat. They’re hairless. And they’re awesome. Coolest cat you will ever know.”
“It’s really—”
“Don’t you dare say she’s ugly.” Alexa nailed him with a stare. The house she’d grown up in had been so cluttered and filthy that Alexa had developed terrible allergies and asthma, so hairless cats were the only kind she could have. She’d adopted Lucy from an animal shelter less than a month after Tyler died.
Maverick chuffed out a small laugh. “So ugly she’s cute?”
Shaking her head, Alexa held back the smile that threatened. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Just.”