Page 27 of Maverick (The Bull Riders #3)

Chapter Eleven

Maverick

I didn’t think this through. And now I’m driving into town with a woman in my truck.

Something that hasn’t happened in all the years since Sadie’s death, because there hasn’t been another woman.

I’m overcomplicating all of this. I can feel it.

I also don’t know what to do to stop it.

Because I don’t want Stella to feel used.

That’s really important to me. She was brilliant this morning on Frank, and I know that she’s a rider. I know she is.

I don’t believe in all that signs and wonders stuff – mostly – but she starts to feel like one when I look at her on Frank.

Like she’s someone that Sadie brought to me, even though I’m pretty sure Sadie wouldn’t bring someone to me in this fashion.

I try to imagine it. I can’t. Which pisses me off.

Because it seems like I should be able to imagine my wife’s face.

What she might say about me finding a woman to ride her horse. And have sex with me.

I almost can. I can almost hear her voice. Almost make out the way that she would scrunch up her brow at me when she was annoyed. But only almost.

Time is such a bitch. She keeps on marching. Keeps moving.

And I really want it to stop. Sometimes I don’t want to keep healing. Because healing means putting distance between myself and Sadie, and I hate that.

It’s part of why I need to win the championship. Because it brings it around full circle. I can’t forget that’s the main thing that I’m doing this year. Not this.

It’s just these couple of months. Yeah. Maybe after this, I’ll let Stella take Frank back to Sonoma with her.

I don’t need to follow her all over the world.

The thing about this is, I’ve already shown her everything I am. Sex with her is the most uninhibited I’ve ever been. It shocks me, honestly. Because I was a ho in my past life, but that was all drunken bullshit blunted by alcohol. Then I was trying to be a good boy that I’m just not.

I’m not trying to be anything to Stella.

Whether that’s noble or not. It’s too late, honestly.

She’s seen who I am. And it made her come.

The thought makes my blood run a little bit hotter.

I’m not sure I should be taking her into town either way.

We pull into the parking lot, and I don’t say anything as we get out.

“Maverick!” Sam, the owner of the store, greets me as soon as I walk in.

He’s always been nice to me. Even when I was a kid roaming around town, more likely to shoplift from any of these stores than buy from them, he was nice to me.

I think because he knew that I was in a bad situation, and he didn’t want to make it worse by being mean to me.

Nice of him, all things considered, because I was a little shit.

“Howdy, Sam. I’ve got a plumbing issue.”

“Yeah. I figured, or you wouldn’t be here. And who’s this?”

“This is Stella Lane. That’s actually the problem. She’s staying in the cottage on my property, working with one of my horses. The pipe up in the attic got chewed by rats. Now I’ve got a leak, and I need to be able to order a new piece for the pipe, but it’s specific.”

I write down the type and dimensions for him. He takes it over to the computer and looks it up, but even though he seems to have accepted my explanation of Stella, he’s looking at her closely.

“So you’re a jockey?” he asks.

“Yes,” Stella says, laughing. “I am. I know Maverick from the rodeo. But in another life, I rode dressage, so I’m here getting my skills back up.”

“Is that so? A rodeo rider. Barrel racing?”

“Yes. Though I am tempted sometimes to try out the bulls.”

The old man laughs. “You gotta be careful about those bulls. I hear you mess with them and you get the horns.”

She looks at me, and I have to suppress the physical reaction I have to those glittering blue eyes on mine. She’s so beautiful. And I shouldn’t be having full-blown sexual attraction to her right there in the store. But I am.

“Well,” he says, looking up from the computer. “This is going to take a couple of weeks. It’s backordered.”

I suppress a groan. And I’m not sure if it’s one of disappointment or pleasure. Well, I know what I’m trying to convey. But in actuality, my body is thrilled. To have her captive for a bit.

I can just imagine laying her down in the guest bedroom and taking my time with her…

I shove that to the side. “That’s fine. I’ve got extra space for her.”

“I’m small,” Stella says. “I won’t take up that much room.”

I look at her and smile, but then I feel Sam looking at us, and I suspect we are not doing a great job at hiding the fact that we are sleeping together.

Jesus Christ. How old am I? She makes me feel like I’m in my twenties.

Like I’m navigating something I don’t know how to navigate, except I still feel like I’m carrying all the baggage I’ve accumulated in the last decade.

That doesn’t seem fair. If you’re going to feel young, shouldn’t you also feel unencumbered?

Wouldn’t know.

Encumbered is kind of my whole vibe.

I place the order and head back out of the store with her, and she looks away. “Sorry to be such a pain.”

“You’re not a pain.”

I know that both of us are treading lightly around this. Around the reality of us cohabitating. And what it means.

“You’ll stay in the guest bedroom,” I say. “And we’ll keep…”

“You want your own space, but you want to still fuck me?”

She’s smiling when she says that.

“Yeah. That’s about the size of it.”

“Well, that’s okay with me. I don’t especially mind.”

“Oh, good. As long as you don’t mind.”

She snickers and elbows me, and I grab hold of her hand, just for a second. My heart stops. It’s the strangest sensation. I release my hold on her and open up the passenger door of the truck. “Get in.”

She does without argument, which is notable because she’s usually a little bit persnickety.

I shake my head as I round to the driver’s side.

I don’t rightly know what I’ve gotten myself into for the next couple of months. But at least there’s a time frame. It makes it feel secure. Makes it feel like I don’t have to make decisions. Or really change anything. Because this is just a moment that exists all by itself.

And then I’ll get right back on track. Right back into the championship.

Ready to go. I have to make sure that I keep my conditioning up, but now Stella is set up with Frank, and that’s all good.

So I can get back to my thing, and in the evenings we can…

Well, it feels good to have a little bit of release.

She’s getting experience, and I’m getting that.

I get into the truck and ignore how uncomfortable it feels to think of her as that. As a release, and nothing more. It feels like it sells her short, but that can’t be my concern.

I used to think that love could fix me. I know that it can’t now. And I’m not dragging anybody else into my issues. It’s not right. That’s one thing I know better than to do now.

She can’t fix me. It’s entirely possible that no one can.

I wanted to believe it once upon a time.

That I wouldn’t be defined by a childhood I didn’t choose.

But the longer I live, the more the difficult things about me seem to just be entrenched in who I am.

I wouldn’t know what to do to fix it if I wanted to. If I tried.

And so, I don’t know that I’m going to try.

With her, why? I can just be this, and it can be what it is. She knows me as the villain already. I don’t have anything to protect her from.

“Are you okay with this?” I ask as we head back out onto the road.

“Context?”

“I’m not the most gentle in bed,” I grit out.

She makes a small choking sound. “I don’t…really have anything to compare it to.”

“If you want hearts and flowers and to be held, I’m not your guy. Multiple orgasms? I’ve got you.”

“I’ll happily take the orgasms, thank you.”

“I just want to make sure. Today I brought you into town and you’re staying with me and…”

“You keep checking with me.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m very aware of the age gap.”

She looks at me and wrinkles her nose. She looks offended.

“Why are you acting like a scandalized maiden? I was under the impression that you were supposed to be a villain.”

“All good in theory. A lot harder in practice.”

“What’s your actual issue?”

I don’t actually know. That’s the problem.

She’s asking a pointed question, and I don’t know how to answer it.

What is my actual issue? Because I don’t actually hate the age gap as much as I wish I did.

And I’d like to believe that I’m concerned solely about her.

I also like to believe that I’m past worrying about my eternal soul, or whatever.

But something about it bothers me.

Something makes me feel like I have to atone before we’ve even started.

Maybe it’s just me putting her at a distance. But can you blame me?

Anyway, it’s for her own good as much as mine.

Maybe I just want permission to indulge myself. To embrace my darker impulses.

“I don’t want to go to hell,” I say.

She laughs. “I want to know who decided that orgasms were going to send you to hell.”

“A good question,” I say.

“I suppose they just don’t want us all having sex constantly instead of getting other things done. It’s bad for capitalism.”

“Now there’s a good way of looking at it. A capitalist plot.”

She’s staring out the window, and I need to look at the road. But I find myself captivated by her. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail, and the curve of her neck is elegant. Her profile as she stares out at the landscape grabs my attention, but I force myself to look back at the road.

I know way too well what can happen when you get distracted while driving.

The thought doesn’t even fill me with terror so much as something grim.

“If I didn’t have to work, if I didn’t have to achieve, I might sign myself up to be your sex slave.”

Now there’s a thought. One I really don’t need to dwell on.

“Would you feed me grapes?”

“I feel like you should be the one feeding me grapes,” she says.

“Either way. Sounds better than the thing we have going on right now.”

“I’ll say. All of this is just a lot of work.”

A lot of work. She’s basically summed up the last…I don’t know how many years of my life. Both of us have been doing it, I suppose. Rolling a ball uphill, trying to make sense of the lives that we were born into. Trying to do something other than… Whatever it is we’ve got.

“I can set up a barrel racing course for you, if you’re interested in working double time.”

The words come out before I even think them through. But the reality is, I want her to feel at home. I want her to feel like there’s something here for her.

Weird, maybe. But it is what I want.

“I’d love that. Are you going to be… I mean, I assume you’ll be working out.”

“Yep. Doesn’t stop. I gotta keep going if I want to win this.”

I do. I do want to win it. It’s important to me.

If the other side of it is still something blank, something I can’t imagine, then that’s just fine. It’s just the way it is.

“Well, I think it sounds great. The reality is, I only know how to be busy.” She laughs. “Being a sex slave is for other people.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because I wouldn’t know how to relax if I was forced to. That’s all.”

“Probably a side effect of the lives you’ve lived.”

“Probably.”

Hell, I know that’s the case for me.

But I keep my eyes on the road as we head back to the house. Mostly.