Hell Fires (Age-Gap Romance)

“Exactly. By the way, I’m Maverick.”

I swiveled around in my chair.

This was the super-hero-villain moment. When he got to look at my messed-up face and decide whether or not he wanted to fuck with me.

I reached my hand out and he took it; didn’t even flinch. Not a single bat of a lash.

“Sophie, nice to meet you.” I shook his hand as hard as I could. Then I strategically flicked my side style back, the Jessica Rabbit, so he could see my whole face and run screaming back to wherever he’d come from.

He licked his lips slowly and looked into my eyes. I think I must have blushed because I felt heat flooding my body like an erupting volcano. I knew what I looked like, or I at least had an idea from people’s reactions. My face made babies cry and little boys ask me for an autograph.

“Do you have sight?” he asked me calmly.

Did I have sight? What a freaking anomaly. No one ever asked if I had sight. Are you blind? Can you even see? Those were the shitty questions they asked me.

“I can fucking see,” I nodded seriously.

Then I swiveled in my chair again to survey my crowd and give him my back. “But not that fucking great. The freaky eye? The bluish-white one? There’s still a piece of glass embedded in it. A corneal abrasion so swift I lost sight in it immediately. The other one, my brown eye? I can see shapes and color, outlines of most things. But it’s pretty fucking blurry. What about you?”

“What can I see? I can see that you’re strong. A talented DJ with good taste. Beautiful and unique. But you’re too young to be working here and I don’t like having a woman leave alone after closing.”

“That’s poetic. You work here or are you just trespassing?”

“I’m your boss.”

“Well, that’s funny,” I said. I took off D’Angelo and put on Ro James. “Cause Mandy is my boss and I’m pretty sure Tommy is her boss unless people are fucking with me now.”

He walked toward me and the big window overlooking the stage and the tables. I could hear his footsteps come across the carpet behind me. He was a big guy—huge. Despite his size, he had a kind of gentle energy, like a scary, but huggable bear. I was pretty decent at reading people’s energy. I had to be in order to survive. I also had to be prickly even when it went against my instinct.

Ro James was crooning about green lights and Maverick put his hands up on the glass and looked down. He was built, that I could make out easily. Tattooed, except I couldn’t tell what they were. Wearing dark clothing, likely had dark hair. The only elements I knew completely were his energy and his scent. He smelled like alder wood and honey, smooth, rich, and strong.

“How’d it happen, Sophie?”

I inhaled deeply.

“My face? Car accident. Windshield glass.” The second-most asked question of my life after the inquiry as to whether I could see or not. Maverick made a sound, a sharp intake of breath that sounded like wincing. “My parents died. I survived. The jury is still out on whether that was a curse or a blessing.”

“Your face is beautiful,” he told me. I could feel him looking at me. The way he said it was so forceful, it almost felt like he was angry at me.

“Thank you for saying that,” I told him. “But you don’t have to try to flatter me. My face is—”

“Striking. There is beauty and grace in tragedy. Strength in experience. Your face is the highest truth in this bar.”

“Thanks,” I said. I lifted my shoulders in a little shrug. “What do you see down there, Mr. Maverick?”

“Bodies. Need. A lot of grinding, drinking, pretending and lying.”

“I can barely make them out,” I said. I rose and went to stand beside him. “I see the movement better, like when the girls dance, I can see the shapes moving to the beat of my songs. I just imagine the rest.” When I stood next to him, his scent enveloped me and I liked it so much, I felt driven to throw my arms around him like a lunatic, even though we’d just met. Instead, I inhaled deeply and enjoyed the warmth between our two bodies.

“What do you imagine?” he asked me. Maverick moved his hand, it wasn’t far from mine, but he moved it close enough to overlap his pinky over mine.

I’d had guys hit on me before, say stupid things or even worse, try to grope in hopes that I’d be a willing lay. But this move with just his pinky finger somehow spoke legions to me. It was gentle and at the same time, more bold than anything I could think of. It made my body respond like it didn’t even belong to me anymore. I was captivated by this giant, dark, and brooding man who sought me out and touched me more intimately than anyone had in a very long time.