Page 1 of Falling Stars (Wild at Heart #2)

HIGH SCHOOL

BAYLEE

The moment the final bell rings, I’m out the door. Students fill the hall. Everyone’s decked out in Wild Heart High colors and eager to kick our rival’s asses at tonight’s football game.

I slow my roll as I reach the gym, hoping Maverick hasn’t already headed out to eat with his buddies.

A muscled arm reaches around my shoulders, and I try to tamp down my smile. I don’t need to turn my head to know who it is. The scent of Mav’s sandalwood cologne, which he just started wearing this summer, makes my mouth water.

“How was Algebra 2?” His deep voice sends chills down my arms.

“About as exciting as sticking my arm up a cow’s ass.”

He busts out laughing. “Bay, Bay, Bay. You know all my secrets.”

Ugh, I love it when he calls me that. It’s almost like he’s calling me “bae” or “baby.” I nudge him with my elbow.

“I won’t tell anyone what you did last summer.

” He’s always working on his family’s ranch, which, unfortunately, meant that his older brother Rhett wanted to teach him how to check if a cow was pregnant.

You do that by sticking your hand up its ass. Good times.

“Got you something.” He holds up a bag of spicy Cheetos.

“My fave. Thank you.” I finally turn my head up to look at him. Damn, he’s beautiful. Chiseled, rugged jaw. High cheekbones. Thick, messy dark hair. That devilish grin.

And a whole lot of muscles that grew within the last two years. He was a beanpole when we were kids, but now that he’s always training for football, he’s gained tons of muscle. I can’t help but notice how his Wild Heart Wolves t-shirt stretches across his broad chest.

My best friend is a walking, talking thirst trap. And honestly, he’s so handsome, sometimes I just want to lick his face.

I don’t, obviously. I’m weird, but not that weird.

I just sniff him when he’s not looking. Don’t judge.

“I have something for you too.” I reach into my backpack and pull out a ziplock of puppy chow. Not the dog food. It’s Chex cereal mixed with melted chocolate and peanut butter and topped with powdered sugar.

“Fuck, you’re the best. Gonna save this for tonight if we beat the Ravens.” He tucks the snack into his duffle bag.

“You mean when you beat the Ravens.”

His smile widens, and he winks. My silly heart flutters.

We stop in the middle of the hall while we talk, and people walk around us. It’s like a romance where the music swells and the background fades, and it’s just the two of us.

Until his idiot friend Chet jumps on his back. “Gonna kick ass tonight, Walker?”

“You know it.” When Chet walks away, Mav’s attention returns to me. “You coming to the game?”

“I’d never miss it. ”

He slings his arm around my shoulders again as we continue out of the building. “That’s my girl.”

Yes, I’m your girl, and I have been for years. Since we were in elementary school and he punched a kid who was bullying me on the swings.

There’s only one little problem.

When we pause by the stadium, he drops his arm. “Come over this weekend, and I’ll help you with your algebra homework.”

“What makes you think I need help?” He eyes me like his bullshit meter is going off, and I shove him playfully. “Fine, I need help.”

“I’m your man.” He tugs me to his hard chest and gives me a noogie.

I push him off with a laugh and watch him saunter away.

Patting down my hair, I let out a heartsick sigh as I study his bulging biceps and the way they flex. My eyes travel down his narrow waist to his perfect ass, which is encased in faded jeans that probably belonged to his older brothers.

Off he walks—into a crowd of cheerleaders who squeal and fawn over him. Including Nicole Ashbury, who’s the biggest suck-up at this school.

And that’s the problem.

Maverick Walker might be my best guy friend, but literally every girl here is in love with him. Well, everyone except Paige, who’s my other BFF. But she was struck by the Walker curse too and long ago fell in love with his older brother, Rhett, who recently got married.

As I watch Mav smile at all the pretty girls and lean over to hug Nicole, jealousy rips through me.

I know he made out with her last year. This is a small town, and I’ve heard the gossip. But I can’t be mad. He and I aren’t together. We’ve never been together. And although we’re affectionate with each other, he’s never tried to kiss me.

And that hurts.

Because it’s junior year. Isn’t this the time for kissing? If he had feelings for me, wouldn’t he at least try?

At least I haven’t heard that he’s kissed anyone this year, and I know he spends more time with me than any of those cheerleaders. Maverick and I hang out a lot, watching movies, doing homework together, and just vegging out with our families.

We could be high school sweethearts.

I see the montage so clearly in my mind.

We’d go to homecoming together in a few weeks and spend the next two years sneaking off to make out.

Of course we’d go to college together. We’d get married four years later, and I’d raise our kids and learn to bake sourdough bread from scratch while he played pro football.

Then he’d retire, and we’d come back to Wild Heart.

Maybe we’d buy the Three Oaks Farm across from the Walker Ranch, and he’d teach our children how to run the family business with their cousins.

I’d probably take over the salon from my mom by that point and grow fresh herbs and vegetables in my garden and make amazing homemade salsa.

And at night, after we put our kids to bed, Mav and I would sneak out to our backyard to watch the stars and have toe-curling sex.

I shake my head. Okay, I’m getting carried away with my fantasy.

Because there’s a huge problem with that future—I can’t afford college.

But if we loved each other? If we were committed? Could we handle being long distance?

I want to think our bond could endure anything.

First things first, though. Does he feel this chemistry too? Or is it all in my head and I’m delusional? Maybe I’m the only one who’s all worked up. I wish there was a way to tell.

Half an hour later, I trudge through the back door of Bumblebee Beauty Salon, which my mom inherited from my grandmother many moons ago. Back then, it was just called the Salon. “Hi, Mom!” I shout as I toss my backpack in her office. She gives me the stink-eye when I enter the main parlor area.

I walk over and hug her. She pauses sweeping to kiss my cheek. “ Mija , how many times have I told you not to shout? What if I was trimming someone’s hair and you startled me and I cut it chueco ? Me pones nerviosa cuando gritas. ”

Is Mom really afraid she’ll give someone a crooked haircut? We don’t even have any customers right now. I’m about to razz her, but pause because she does look a little frazzled.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t want to test your nerves. I won’t yell again.” I wave at Vera, the other stylist.

My mom holds her hand to her ear. “Can you repeat that? Did you say I’m right?” Sylvia Reyes is where I get all my sass.

I laugh and take the broom out of her hands.

“I’ve got this.” I work here part time after school and on the weekends, sweeping, washing dirty towels, sterilizing the workstations, and organizing supplies.

It’s not glamorous, but since my parents divorced, my mom’s been struggling financially, and I want to do whatever I can to help.

“What time is the game?” she asks.

“Seven. Is it okay if I leave at six-thirty?”

“Yes, my little bumblebee.” She brushes my bangs out of my face. “How did your history test go?”

I cringe. “Is it important that I know all the Civil War dates? I mean, really. Am I going to be walking through life when a test pops out of the sky, asking me when the Battle of Antietam was?”

She rolls up some mail and smacks my ass. “ Nina , if you don’t pass that test, I’m only going to feed you bread and water for the next week.”

Chuckling, I feign fear. “Oh, no! Where’s my phone? I’d better tell Mav to sneak me some pizza this week.”

“If that boy crawls through your window one more time, I’m going to spank him too. I don’t care that he’s a foot taller than me.”

I laugh. “You’d have to catch him first.”

Her expression grows serious, and for a second, I’m afraid she’s going to ask me something horrible, like if we’ve kissed or any number of embarrassing questions. She lowers her voice. “Are we going to win tonight? Because I bet the ladies at the Blackbird Brew that we were going to win by seven.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “We’re definitely going to win.”

“Oh, before I forget, can you babysit for Amara tomorrow?”

I love my nephew, and I don’t mind babysitting, but my sister Amara always needs so much help. It’s annoying. “Mav was going to help me with algebra.”

My mom’s nose wrinkles. “Can’t you do that on Sunday?”

If I wait until Sunday, I’m afraid something will come up, and then we won’t get to hang out this weekend. “I’m tired of babysitting. Amara never pays me.”

“I know, mija , but she’s struggling right now. When you have a baby of your own, you’ll appreciate how much your family will do for you.”

Ugh, the guilt. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She smothers me in a hug. “Thank you. And I know Amara doesn’t have much money right now, but I’ll make it up to you. What if I get you that homecoming dress you’ve been eyeing?”

Excitement skitters through me. Will Mav ask me to go with him? I’m hoping it’ll happen this weekend when we study. And if it does, I definitely need something to wear. “Isn’t it kind of expensive? ”

“I only have one favorite daughter.”

I giggle even though I know she says the same thing to my older sister. I get it. She loves us both. “I have some money saved up, but if you could help me a little, that would be amazing.”

“You got it, kiddo.”

Mom’s phone buzzes on the counter, and the woman practically lunges for it. There’s only one asshole she gets that worked up about.