Page 10 of Falling Stars (Wild at Heart #2)

MAVERICK

With gritted teeth, I drag my carry-on down the concourse.

A mind-numbing throb in the back of my head matches the beat of my uneven stride.

I pull my baseball cap lower. The last thing I want right now is to run into a fan.

By the time I reach my Uber, I’m on the verge of puking, so I let my driver haul my shit into the trunk.

I hand him the address and slouch in the back seat, grateful for the silence.

Technically, I should be fine as long as I don’t make any quick movements.

I keep telling myself that as I pop an extra-strength ibuprofen.

My doctor prescribed oxycodone to control the pain, but I’ve had too many teammates have trouble getting off that stuff after an injury, so I’d rather not go that route.

I should ice the hell out of my neck and shoulder tonight, except I left my ice packs in New York. I’m so fucking tired that I really don’t care. I’m having a hard time giving a shit about anything right now.

My phone trills with several texts. I glance at the screen and see an all-caps message from my agent Vance. YOU HAVE FIVE WEEKS. MAKE THEM COUNT .

Like I got injured for shits and giggles.

I flick off the ringer.

The drive from Austin takes about forty minutes, and as we pass the turnoff to the ranch, I let out a relieved breath. I love my family, but right now, I need to be alone. I have a lot of crap to figure out.

I have a whole list of problems right now. Namely, what the fuck am I going to do about my career?

And this one shouldn’t be as important, except it rises to the top of the list—no pun intended—but why the fuck doesn’t my dick work?

Since puberty, I’ve literally never woken up without wood, but since my injury, my dick is DOA.

My doctor says I’m lucky I can walk—that I’m a medical miracle—and that’s supposed to be enough for now. He says if I get rest, it’ll help, but I can’t fucking sleep in New York. My roommates are loud as hell, and when they’re not clowning around, the sounds of the city keep me awake.

I’ve tried everything—porn, cam girls, videos women have sent me over the years—and nothing gets my cock to perk up and take notice. The only thing I haven’t tried is a real woman, but things with Kira make me not wanna go there. I suppose if I can’t get off with my hand, then I’m shit out of luck.

Downtown Wild Heart is blessedly deserted at this hour. There are no cars on the street. It’s such a welcome departure from New York.

When we get to the condo, I groan as I attempt to extricate myself from the back seat.

This is such bullshit. A few months ago, I could run a hundred meters in ten seconds and leap like a goddamn gazelle, and now I can barely pull myself off my ass.

I guess I should be glad I don’t need a walker anymore.

After I thank my driver, I grab my small suitcase and roll it into the building. When I reach the elevators, I pull out the email Paige sent me last fall with all the details. I’ve only seen photos of this place, but it seemed nice online. Certainly nicer than anywhere I’ve ever lived before.

Once I get to the top floor, I pull out my keys and head to my penthouse, if you can call it that. My teammates in New York would probably laugh at the description.

I unlock the door, wheel my luggage inside, and flick on the hall light.

A heap of crap on the kitchen counter makes me do a double-take.

“Son of a bitch.” I grab my neck, the pain so sharp, I have to lean against the wall.

Closing my eyes, I try to breathe through the pain. When I’m sure I’m not gonna pass out, I survey the shit on my counter again. There’s an extra-large container of peanut butter, generic bread, and baby wipes next to a few paper plates with crumbs.

Did Paige swing by here and accidentally leave this behind? When she offered to manage my rental, I accepted, but maybe she has too much going on with Ella.

It’s a dark night, so I can’t see much out the windows, but I’m pretty sure the condo overlooks the river. The couch faces a large flatscreen TV. Perfect. I plan to plant my ass on those cushions for the foreseeable future.

I hobble over to the living room, about to look for the remote when I freeze.

Curled up on one leg of the L-shaped couch is a curvy woman with long dark hair.

She’s facing the back of the couch, and wearing some kind of thin, white tank top that rides up her back, making her round ass jut out.

Below that tank is a tiny pair of hot pink boy shorts that outline her gorgeous shape.

Holy shit. I glance down, and to my surprise, I have a raging erection.

I scrub my face, relief vying with annoyance in my chest. It would’ve been helpful to have some privacy for the return of my dick, but no, I have to deal with a strange woman sleeping in my condo.

“Wah!” a little voice screeches, and I hop back, which makes my head throb again. My dick instantly deflates at the angry howl. “Wahhhh!”

That’s when I notice the basket with a fucking baby nestled between the couch and my coffee table.

The woman stirs and pulls up to a seated position, but her hair covers her face. My heart pounds as I wait to see if her face is as beautiful as the rest of her. With a swipe of her hand, she shoves it away, and I freeze.

A gorgeous creature stares back at me. Big brown eyes fringed with long lashes blink sleepily. Pouty lips the color of ripe berries make an O-shape. Long tousled hair hangs down over her slender shoulders.

“Baylee?”

She screams and stares up at me like I’m an axe murderer. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I hold out my hands. “I’m sorry. It’s me. Don’t freak out.”

I’m not sure what I expect. Maybe a smile?

Maybe a hug from my long-lost best friend?

Maybe a “Hey, Maverick, it’s so good to see you” kind of greeting?

But she glares at me like I’m the Devil here to snatch her child.

“Maverick Walker, don’t you dare sneak up on a woman like that. I nearly had a heart attack.”

I struggle not to laugh. “Bay, I hate to point out the obvious, but this is my condo.”

I’m teasing, but she doesn’t break a smile. Instead, she leans over to pick up the baby. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. Not sure I would’ve known that.”

Yeah, she’s pissed. “Is this… is this your son? Is this Leo?”

“Yup.” Although her tone with me is dismissive, she’s anything but that as she snuggles Leo. The love in her eyes as she calms her baby is unmistakable. I’ve always known Baylee would be an incredible mother.

Holy shit. Baylee had a baby. Until this moment, it hasn’t felt real. Leo is cute with big eyes and a curly tuft of blond hair. Sometimes babies look squishy, but this little guy is picture perfect, like he belongs on a jar of organic baby food.

Pride for my oldest friend swells in my chest before guilt slams into me for being MIA these last few months.

Damn, I never sent her the presents from her registry.

Pretty sure I saw her name flash on my phone recently, but I was too pissed off at the world to answer.

I point to the cushion a few feet away from her. “May I?”

She gives me a look. “It’s your condo. Do whatever you want.”

Again, not the friendly welcome I was expecting. I gingerly settle on the couch while I watch her snuggle the baby. Why prolong this? “I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. I should’ve called.”

“It’s fine. You have your life. I have mine.” She takes a deep breath and presses a hand into one eye, then the other. “Sorry I’m grumpy. I haven’t slept in five years.”

“I know the feeling.” That gets me another look, and I chuckle. “I mean, you have it worse. I only tore my rotator cuff, suffered a concussion, and fractured my C5 vertebrae.” I’m teasing. I’m sure nothing beats gestating a baby for nine months and then taking care of an infant.

“That’s crazy.” Her eyes narrow. “Why aren’t you in the hospital?” She looks me up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”

A real honest-to-God laugh busts out of me. I haven’t smiled or laughed in so long that it feels foreign. I ignore the throbbing in my skull. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

She finally cracks a smile. “I’ve missed you too, you annoying asshole. I’m glad you’re okay. ”

“I’m supposedly a medical marvel. So there’s that.

” I rub the back of my neck. “I’d ask for a hug, but it looks like you have your hands full.

Plus, you’re in your underwear. Not that I mind, but maybe you do.

” I try not to look at her chest, but from my peripheral vision, I see her full tits strain against the thin fabric of her tank, and my dick tries to salute her.

Huh. Two boners in one night. Maybe I’m not broken beyond repair after all.

Baylee finally takes note of what she’s wearing and gasps. Pulling a blanket over her and Leo, she shakes her head. “Having a baby is like getting your brain sucked out of your body. If my head wasn’t screwed on, I would’ve left it somewhere by now. Ignore my obviously sexy outfit.”

I can see it on her face. She thinks she looks like crap, but I swear I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. Motherhood suits her. “I’m sure it’s been tough. Is Sean helping at all?”

That gets me a growl. “Before I had Leo, Sean swore he wanted to be involved, but he’s only seen the baby twice.”

“What a dick. I’m so sorry.” I glance around my living room. “Can I ask how you ended up in my condo?”

It’s dark in here, but I’m pretty sure she’s blushing. “This is Paige’s fault. She swore you wouldn’t mind. That you were in New York and wouldn’t be visiting.”

“I definitely don’t mind, Bay. At all. I swear. What’s wrong with your mom’s house?” She mumbles something that I can’t make out. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I got evicted. Sorta.”

“Jesus, Bay. What’s going on?”

She explains that her mom has been out of town, taking care of her grandfather, and in the meanwhile, rent on the salon skyrocketed. “I had a choice. I could pay the rent on the house and lose the salon, or keep the salon and lose the house.”

I didn’t know the house was a rental. “So you paid on the salon so you could keep your job and pay all the women who work for you.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

This is my fault for not staying in touch better. “You could’ve asked for help. I would’ve given you money.”

“I wasn’t going to call you up out of the blue and ask for help.” She looks offended.

This woman is gonna be the death of me. “Baylee Reyes, as my oldest and dearest friend, you absolutely should have done that.”

That gets me another eye roll. “I hate asking for help.”

Tell me something I don’t know. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now.”

Baylee nibbles her bottom lip. “Paige said I could stay for a bit so she could clean Beau’s camper. Then I’ll move in there, and she’ll rent this place out for you.”

Baylee wants to stay in my brother’s crappy camper with the baby? Fuck that.

“Stay here for as long as you need.” If anyone’s gonna take care of Baylee and Leo, it’s going to be me. I don’t know why Paige didn’t just ask me. I would’ve told her to offer it to Bay. I motion toward the hall. “But maybe you and the baby could sleep in the bedroom, and I’ll take the couch.”

Her shoulders slump. “The bedroom furniture is backordered. So…” She gives me an awkward smile. “I could scoot over?”

And that’s how I find myself sleeping a foot away from Baylee and her cheeky, hot pink panties.

After I settle on the longer leg of the couch, I find her dark eyes as she rocks Leo in her arms, and warmth spreads through me.

Even after I turn away to try to fall asleep, I can still feel her presence.

When she puts Leo back in his basket, our heads end up only a foot apart.

From here, I can smell her sweet scent, and it takes me back to the long summer days we used to spend running wild on my family’s ranch.

Instead of the sharp horns of New York traffic or the clamor of my unruly roommates, my night is filled with Baylee’s soft whisper as she talks to her son.

For the first time in months, I’m able to easily fall asleep. Having her by my side is almost enough to forget the nightmares I have of my accident.