Ride Rough (Raven Riders 2)

“Let me take these, Mom. You’ll get more in the mail. By the end of the week, you’ll have half this many right back again. You won’t miss them. Please,” she said, giving her mother a pleading look. “I worry you’ll trip and fall with so much right around the foot of your chair.” Especially since the pillow and folded blanket stacked next to her meant that she was sleeping in the chair again, too. More evidence that her bedroom had probably become unlivable.

“Why do you make me do this, Alexa? You know I like my things,” her mother said. It wasn’t a no. Progress.

“I know. But I love you. And I want you safe. It’s not safe to have all this in here.” She held up a handful of catalogs. “Okay?”

Her mom hugged herself and waved her hand dismissively.

It didn’t take long to fill the second bag. Though getting rid of the newspapers and catalogs did clear some floor space, their removal hardly made a dent in the overall state of the room. “I’m going to take these outside. Be right back.”

It was always best to remove things from the house after getting her mother to agree to part with them; otherwise Alexa would turn around and find her mom pulling stuff out of the trash. With more than a little difficulty, Alexa hefted the bags over her shoulders so they would clear the piles of junk she had to navigate on her way to the foyer.

Awkwardly, she made her way through the front door and then she walked the bags to the end of the driveway, her biceps burning. She set them down with a groan next to a row of other bags she’d brought out earlier. Catching her breath, she braced her hands on her bare knees and enjoyed the warm June breeze blowing across her neck. She’d been working for a little over three hours and she was beat.

She needed to get back into her routine of doing the elliptical a few times a week. Really, she had no excuse not to since Grant had a fully decked-out workout room in the basement. Well, no excuse except for the fact that her final project and all the last-minute wedding planning took up the time she might otherwise have devoted to the elliptical. Still, Alexa had a wedding dress to fit into in just two weeks. And Grant seemed to notice the minute her weight fluctuated more than a few pounds. Of course, she wasn’t sure she knew someone more fit than Grant, who ran on the treadmill and lifted weights almost every morning.

“How ’bout I give you a hand?” came a voice from behind her.

Alexa whirled, heart in her throat. “Oh my God, Maverick. Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he said, looking sexier than any man had a right to look in a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and his Ravens cut hanging on those broad shoulders. And here she was, sweaty, grimy from cleaning her mother’s house, and with her hair thrown up in a messy knot. Not that her appearance mattered, of course.

“Then where did you come from? Again?” She arched her brow and gave him a look. “I thought I said you shouldn’t be keeping an eye on me?” Though she didn’t manage to put the heat behind the words she probably should have.

“I have a problem with listening,” he said with a smirk.

“No kidding.” Alexa planted her hands on her hips.

“Besides, I like keeping my eyes on you,” he said with a wink. His gaze swept over her in a slow, satisfied up and down. Heat rose into Alexa’s cheeks, because he’d said the words jokingly but there was an intensity and a seriousness to his expression that made her think of dark rooms and frantic kisses and messed-up sheets. Molten-hot memories of the two of them together—memories she’d kept boxed up tight for the past five years—threatened to come roaring back.

She couldn’t let them, so she changed the subject. “Hey, how’s your mom? And Dare? I’m sorry I didn’t ask the other day. I didn’t know what’d happened.”

The amusement melted off Maverick’s rugged face. “Both doing better. They’ll be okay.”

Relief flooded through Alexa. “Oh, thank God. I was worried.”

Lips pressed into a tight line, Maverick nodded as his gaze drifted toward the house. “How’s your mom?”

“Oh. She’s . . .” Alexa shrugged. She couldn’t help but be struck by another comparison. Grant rarely asked after her mother, except to ask how long Alexa would be gone on Saturdays. “You know. Pretty much the same.” As much time as Maverick had spent with Tyler and her over the years, he would know what she meant. In that moment, Alexa realized Maverick was the only other person left who truly understood Cynthia Harmon’s problems—and what it took to deal with them.