Page 16 of Just One Look

Jackson

I feel horrible about what happened as I approach the door to Maverick’s office, apology coffee in hand. I honestly didn’t mean to hurl the stall litter directly at him. I got a little dizzy, and I miscalculated where the wheelbarrow was.

It was a mistake. An honest mistake.

I knock on the door.

No answer.

I knock again, a bit louder.

Still nothing.

I exhale through my teeth. Okay, he’s mad at me. That makes sense. I thought he believed me when I apologized and said it was an accident, but maybe not? After all, I am the reason his expensive suit got ruined. He’s well aware of my salary, so he knows damn well I can’t afford to buy him a new one. Maybe I can offer to pay him back in installments or something?

Because while we may have laughed about the situation, reality soon sank in. Maverick managed to get to his feet, smiled awkwardly, muttered something about getting changed in his office, then left to do the world’s most embarrassing walk of shame through the barn. Staff had already started arriving for the day, so that must have been fun for him.

I crack open the door.

“Maverick?”

Nothing.

That’s strange. I wonder where he is.

Since I’m already here, I decide to leave the coffee and today’s note I quickly scribbled on his desk anyway. My writing has never been that great, but it’s getting really hard to focus on smaller details, so I hope he can read it okay. I place it in the usual spot and start making my way back to the door when an idea strikes.

“Might as well,”

I say to myself. Assuming I don’t get fired today, it’ll be useful information to have.

I walk back to his desk, spin around to face the door, and start counting out the number of paces.

“Seven, eight, ni?—”

A hidden door I’ve never noticed in the wall swings open. I freeze and blink a few times to make sure I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing. A completely naked Maverick saunters out of what I’m assuming is his private bathroom. He’s dancing and softly singing away to himself.

My eyes dart around the office, desperate to find a spot I can hide, but I can’t find anywhere close enough for me to make it in less than three seconds, which is about all the time I have before Maverick notices me.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Make that less than three seconds.

He yanks two AirPods from his ears, then looks down, realizes he’s buck naked, releases them, and cups his junk. And believe me, from the brief and slightly hazy glimpse I was able to catch, that is very much a two-handed job.

“What are you doing in my office?”

“Bringing you your morning coffee,”

I say meekly, pointing at his desk.

A baffled look crosses his face before he lowers his chin and releases a deep breath. I guess if he thought his morning couldn’t get any worse, welcome to this.

I try not to take advantage of the situation and stare too much. But there’s no harm in a casual once-over. His tan skin glistens, still wet from the shower. His biceps bulge as he shields himself, his forearms drawn in a protective barrier over the plane of his washboard abs.

And the sculpted lines of his handsome face? Not pissed, but not pleased either. Something along the lines of exasperated, maybe?

“I should probably, uh…”

I point at the door. He musters a forced smile and gives a curt nod.

“Sorry again about everything,”

I say, making a beeline for the door.

“You know, throwing horse shit at you and seeing you naked.”

He expels a frustrated growl, which does not shoot straight to my dick.

“On the plus side, your coffee should still be warm. Oh, and there’s a note.”

Sorry about the shitshow. Your day can only improve from here!

Hm. That didn’t age so well.

“Great. Thanks,”

I hear him say behind me.

I slam the door behind me and race down the stairs.

Ever since I got my latest diagnosis, I’ve been running a mental inventory of all the things I desperately want to remember when I lose my sight completely. I’m not sure how all that works, how long visual memories last once vision goes, but I’m determined to sear certain people and things into my subconscious so I can hold on to them for as long as possible.

Family and friends are at the top of that list, obviously. The way Clancy looks at me with nothing but love in his eyes. Verity’s beautiful face and the way the skin around her eyes crinkles when she laughs extra hard. The look Sibella gets when she’s giving me shit. Pip’s cheeky smile.

Then there are all the horses at the sanctuary. Never again being able to share a soft, trusting gaze, watching a mane ripple in the wind, witnessing the joy of a foal prancing playfully.

Stars in the night sky.

The way early sunlight catches on the dewy grass in the mornings at the sanctuary.

The pretty buildings on Main Street in all their different colors.

Silverstone in the fall.

The giant valley oak tree.

Stained glass windows.

Gooey chocolate oozing out of brownies.

Fireworks.

Maverick.

I hate that he’s made it onto the list, but he has. And that was before I saw him in all his naked glory yesterday. The details may have been a bit blurry, but it hasn’t stopped my imagination from working overtime to fill in the missing pieces.

I hate to admit it, but he is incredibly attractive. Yes, his body is sculpted to perfection, and he’s got a chiseled, classically handsome face. But it’s not just that. Being attractive goes beyond mere physical traits.

It’s other things. Smaller things.

The way his face lights up whenever he sees Sammy.

How he moves through the world, confident and sure of himself without being cocky.

The softness he had in his eyes when we talked on the Fourth of July, the dimples that made a surprise appearance, the kindness he showed as he helped me to my feet.

I can’t be sure, but I thought I saw him looking my way when I was watching the fireworks with Clancy. I loved sharing that moment with my grandpa. It was special and something I’ll cherish forever, even if a small, illogical part of me wished there was some way I could have also shared it with Maverick.

I shake my head and rake my fingers through my hair, irritation flaring behind my sternum.

Of all the fucking times to meet a guy, why did it have to be now, when I’m dealing with a life-changing diagnosis? I lean against the wall, take a few breaths, and try to redirect my frustration. Getting worked up only makes my headache worse, and today, it’s actually bearable.

I take a look around my tiny cabin and focus on the positives. It’s small, and the layout is easy to memorize. From the kitchen to the living room is three paces, the living room to my bed in the corner is five, and from my bed to the bathroom is two and a half paces.

Clancy has offered for me to move back in with hi.

“when the time comes,”

but I value my independence too much. I’m going to do everything in my power to stay here. It may not be much, but it’s familiar and comfortable and everything to me. My home. The first place I moved out to after leaving Clancy’s. As long as Maverick keeps his mitts off it and doesn’t make any changes, this cabin is going to remain my home.

“Knock, knock,”

Clancy’s voice rings out.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course. What are you doing here?”

He lets himself in. Another figure follows close behind him.

“Oh, hey, Pip.”

Clancy answers.

“I thought I’d shake things and pop in here for a change. That way, I get to have lunch with my two favorite men.”

Pip snorts.

“I wish you were my grandfa—”

He stops, Clancy glaring at him for almost using the dreaded g-word.

“I’m glad you’re my Clancy,”

Pip corrects, earning himself a warm grin from the old man.

Clancy places the dutch oven on the counter, grabs some bowls from the cupboard, and dishes out three servings.

“Chicken thighs with vegetables,”

he says, fetching spoons out of the top drawer.

I grin.

“Not ready to experiment again?”

“No,”

he says, handing me a bowl.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Going to stick to tried and true recipes from now on.”

We huddle around my snug bistro table, our knees touching and elbows jostling from time to time as we dig in. Clancy asks Pip about how his summer course is going, and as Pip fills him in, I can’t help but smile. I love the bond these two have.

Pip was abandoned shortly after he was born and has no clue who his parents are. He’s never had a real family. When he showed up on Clancy’s doorstep, dripping wet, scared for his life, and with nowhere to go, Clancy stepped in and stepped up, showering Pip with all the paternal love he has in him.

Pip asks how the harvest is going, and Clancy says.

“It’s been a good season. The harvest is nearly done. All the trees are…naked.”

They both turn to me, wearing matching grins.

“Have I got something on my face?”

I ask, wiping the back of my hand against my chin.

“No, no,”

Clancy replies with a gleam in his eye.

“But why did you fail to mention seeing your boss naked last week?”

I shoot daggers at Pip, who shrugs, mouths a totally insincere “Sorry,”

and returns to wolfing down his food.

I turn to Clancy.

“Didn’t think it was that noteworthy.”

“Oh, really.”

Clancy stands.

“Mind if I strip off, then?”

“Jesus, no. Sit down. Okay. The real reason is exactly this. I didn’t want you teasing me about it. It’s bad enough Pip has been.”

“Nice work, Pip.”

Pip finishes chewing.

“Thanks, Clancy. I did it for us.”

Clancy parks his ass back on the stool.

“For the record, if I wanted to tease you about anything, it’d be your farcical plan to piss Maverick off.”

“There is nothing farcical about it,”

I say.

“But I do have an update to report.”

Pip smirks.

“Enlighten us.”

“You heard the expression, nice guys finish last?”

They both nod, so I continue.

“Now, I have proof that it’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

Clancy asks, helping himself to a second helping.

“The being nice approach is getting me nowhere. Bringing him coffee every day and pointing out ways to save money isn’t the right tactic. It’s only resulted in me seeing him naked and him being helpful to me in return.”

“Sounds like a win-win in my book,”

Clancy says, amused.

“Well, it’s not,”

I huff.

“It’s a lose-lose.”

He takes my hand, his green eyes locking onto mine with an unmistakable sincerity.

“Was the theory correct, son? Does Maverick driving an SUV mean he really does have a tiny ding-a-ling?”

Pip laughs, and man, I regret ever coming up with that stupid lie. Clancy is getting way too much mileage out of it.

“His ding-a-ling is…”

A sudden hitch lodges in my throat.

“Fine. Back to my new plan. I’m pivoting.”

One of Pip’s eyebrows flicks up. “To?”

“If I want to truly piss Maverick off, which I most definitely do, then I should be pointing out how much of a money pit the sanctuary is.”

Clancy and Pip exchange a brief glance, which I ignore.

“I know he’s loaded, but plenty of rich owners before him didn’t spend a cent on maintenance, much less upgrades. Maybe rich people aren’t wired to fix shit. Maybe the reason they have so much money is because they like to hoard it. Who the fuck knows? But if I want to deliver a truly fatal knockout, I have to hit him where it really hurts: his bank account.”

The guys share another look I can’t decipher. Clancy exhales through his nose, then asks.

“Can I be honest?”

I wave my fork in the air.

“Go ahead. It’s not like saying no will stop you.”

“You’re a grown man, so far be it from me to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do,”

he says with that familiar gentle yet firm combo of his.

“But you will?”

He nods.

“Correct. It’s blatantly obvious you two have something. It was on full display when you guys spent the whole night together on the Fourth of July. So, if you want to keep up the pretense of wanting to piss him off, knock yourself out.”

“Not a pretense,”

I correct him.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you actually do want to piss him off.”

“Which I do.”

Clancy shakes his head, places his weathered hands flat on the counter, and pins me with his sharp eyes.

“In that case, ask yourself this: why are you so intent on pissing this guy off?”

I know the answer to that question. Clancy knows the answer to the question. Pip and probably most of the staff around the sanctuary know the answer to that question.

But I’ll be damned if I say the words out loud.

So I scoff, tip my chin toward Pip’s empty bowl, and ask.

“You all done, or do you want another serving?”

“Can you focus, please? And stop smiling. This is a business meeting. Smiling isn’t allowed.”

My words have the opposite effect, and Maverick, annoyingly, smiles even more.

“Picked that up at business school, did you?”

“No. The school of life. You know, the one that people who don’t have trust funds or millionaire parents go to.”

“Ouch. Feisty today.”

“I’m feisty every day,”

I remind him, folding my arms across my chest and staring at the paper I gave him.

“So, what do you think?”

Maverick looks at me for a minute before dropping his head and reading the list. The one I made of all the big-ticket items that need repairing around here. Like replacing the barn roof. Repairing the gutter and downspout system. Resurfacing stable stall flooring. Rewiring electrical systems. Repaving the driveway and parking lot. Refitting the tack room cabinetry and shelving.

It was his idea to take this meeting outside, something about getting some fresh air. He’s been smiling like a weirdo ever since we sat down a few feet from each other on the bench underneath the valley oak tree. I don’t get it.

I’m even more determined than before to make my plan work. I now have an additional goal: flaunting my success in front of Clancy’s and Pip’s faces.

Okay, so they’re right and can see that my goal isn’t to piss Maverick off. My actual, real objective is to create some much-needed distance between us. Because he is on my mind all the time. Even as I do my best to avoid running into him at the sanctuary. Even after I told him I had boundaries and tried to shut him down. Even though nothing more has happened since the kiss I’m totally ignoring and absolutely not obsessing over.

Nothing I do or don’t do, say or don’t say, stamps out the flames. The attraction I feel for him only grows more intense.

This is my last shot.

If I can overwhelm him with the financial burden of running a place like this, he’ll leave. And sure, I’ll be sad. I might even miss him swanning around the rescue center in his ridiculous suits. But it’s better this way. A little bit of hurt now will save a boatload of heartache down the line.

“Shit,”

Maverick mutters, stroking his chin as he flips the page over.

“I thought I’d covered everything that needed doing ’round here. I’m across a lot of these things, but there are a few I hadn’t considered.”

Okay, Hunter, you’re up. Time to really tighten the screws.

“I included some initial costs. They’re on the conservative side, but as you can see, they do add up.”

Maverick’s eyes go big when he reaches the total at the bottom of the list.

“They sure fucking do.”

“But, hey, you’re a billionaire, right? What’s a couple of mill? Unless you’re just pretending like you can’t afford it.”

He folds the papers in half, places them on the bench, and looks straight ahead. “I’m not.”

“Not what? Not pretending?”

He shakes his head, then turns to me with deeply pinched brows.

“I’m not a billionaire.”

“But weren’t you in some 30 hottest billionaires under 30 article?”

I blurt, then immediately regret it.

“Pip mentioned something about it,”

I add quickly.

“My family has money, but we’re not as wildly rich as they let the media believe we are.”

“But you guys own the second-largest shipping company in the world.”

Our eyes meet, and shit, what is up with my brain-to-mouth wiring.

“Pip again. Seriously, that guy is a stalker. You should hire security. Add that to the list.”

He smiles again, but it’s a practiced smile, not his real one. Doesn’t reach his eyes, doesn’t bring out the dimples.

“My mother’s side of the family owns the company. But her two older brothers fucked her over even though she was the one who’d been running it. When she died, her rightful share didn’t get transferred to Dad like it should have, but to them.”

“Oh.”

“Before she passed, Mom gave each of us kids a couple of million to use in whatever way we wanted. She said she wanted to see us living our dreams while she was still alive to see it. It’s a lot of money, don’t get me wrong, but it’s hardly the billions everyone”—he levels a pointed look in my direction—“thinks we’re swimming in.

“Oh.”

“My sister put it toward her campaign, which saw her unseating an almighty Duporth and getting elected to Congress. My other brother, Fenner, put it toward research. He’s obsessed with saving the oceans and is currently based on a remote island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, working on bringing sea turtles back from the brink of extinction. Wagner invested his share to take back control of our family’s winery so it can reclaim its rightful position as one of the best wineries this side of the Atlantic. And I decided to finally get my shit together and actually do something that matters with my life. So I bought this place.”

“Oh.”

“I still have some money left to spend…”

He picks up the list and waves the papers at me, breathing out a heavy sigh.

“But this is a lot.”

My stomach churns worse than it did after Clancy’s ill-fated experiment with raw fish. I feel horrible about creating that stupid list now.

I reach over and pluck it from his hands.

“You know what? I may have gone a little over-the-top with it,”

I say, scanning over the bullet points.

“No. I want to do this right. No shortcuts. No weaseling out of things. I know your expectations of me are pretty low, but I am going to turn this place around. I told you I’m not like the previous owners, and I meant it.”

He takes the list back from me. Our fingers brush. Unwanted tingles rush up my arm, and I try to pull myself together.

The plan was to overwhelm Maverick, a shock-and-awe campaign of huge bills and never-ending expenses. Well, my approach backfired, and the new plan is going completely off the rails.

What the fuck do I do now?