Page 38 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

MAVERICK

I waited for the flight attendant to open the private jet’s entry door, Scout at my heels. I gave a curt smile to the woman and descended the steps.

It was hotter in Denver, especially on the tarmac. Brighter. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be in Hunter Valley, with Bridget. In bed. In my shower. Hell, in the group of fucking Ponderosa pines.

I cut through the small terminal in a rush, Scout following, ready to deal with the shit that was going on.

I’d had my head between Bridget’s thighs at dawn, waking her up to me licking her clit and fingerfucking her to orgasm.

Now, only a few hours later, I was in Colorado and dealing with a not-so-secret fake fiancée.

I knew this might come up someday. Hoped for it, in fact.

Farrah deserved to fall in love and get married.

But why now? Why this fucking week when I just met Bridget? Things were good–no, fucking great–but shit, she had a history with asshole men who used her and left her. Treated her like shit. Stole from her. Hurt her heart.

Now she’d think it included me. Once she read about the wedding, she’d assume the worst. That I was no better than the guys who’d fucked her over before.

No, worse. Because I knew what had happened with them, what she’d been through.

I’d blatantly told her I wasn’t like them, that she was safe with me.

I’d literally asked her to trust me with her body and her heart.

She had and it had been so fucking amazing.

No doubt she thought I used her. Lied.

Fuck. Fuck!

Ever since I got to Montana, I’d ignored Farrah’s calls. She was a friend and important to me, but I had more important things going on. Like being with Bridget.

I stalked across the parking lot to my car where I’d left it on Friday. Thinking too fucking hard as I did so.

I had to be in Denver to keep up the ruse.

I’d been her stand in for so long, I couldn’t ruin it for her now.

On the flight, I’d pulled up the first voicemail she’d left, told me to call her.

The second said she needed to talk to me, that she had news.

The next that her girlfriend, Elise, had proposed, and she’d accepted. That they were getting married.

Each message had ended with Call me, but I hadn’t.

All of it had been a recap of her phone call.

After I hung up, Bradley had called. Said that the situation with Farrah was something I had to handle in Denver.

Immediately. He told me about the same online article that Farrah had mentioned.

I’d pulled it up while talking with him.

It showed Farrah wearing a huge diamond ring. An engagement ring.

Fuck!

Then another article he directed me to that confirmed she was getting married. There was no outright mention that I was the groom, but since we’d been supposedly dating for months, I was the top choice.

Our ruse had worked. No one, social media or her family, suspected she was gay.

All we’d done was attend events together, posed side by side in photos.

I never slept with her. Hell, I never kissed her.

She was the sister I never had and that was it.

There was never news to share because we weren’t really a couple.

Everyone had assumed we were hush hush about our private lives, which we were.

But because of it, the press had filled in the blanks any way they wished.

I clicked the button on the key fob and unlocked the door, let Scout jump in and onto the passenger seat, then I climbed in. The windows slid down as soon as I started the engine and Scout stood on the door’s armrest and stuck his head out.

My cell rang. Silas. “Where the fuck are you?” he snapped.

“Denver.”

“It’s true then.”

I ran a hand over my face. “That I’m getting married? No.”

“Right. Bradley called me. It’s everywhere,” he said. “Mav, I mean fucking everywhere.”

I closed my eyes, slammed my hand down on the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

“Were you going to tell me that you’re getting married? I mean Farrah?”

“I’m… not… getting… married.”

“Tell that to Farrah.”

“She knows.”

“Really? Because it sure as shit doesn’t seem that way. Explain it to me. Explain the engagement ring that can be seen from space and your name tied to it.”

I closed my eyes. Sighed. “I can’t.”

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t?” he shouted.

“I can’t,” I said again. So fucking stuck. “It’s not my story to tell.”

It wasn’t. I’d promised to keep Farrah’s sexual orientation a secret.

Her family was loaded and homophobic. While she wasn’t a money grubber, her father’s ridiculous rule about her inheritance being tied to her marriage was archaic and ridiculous.

But all it stated was that for her to receive the money, she had to be legally wed.

In the state of Colorado, that included same sex marriage.

Farrah could marry the person she loved and get the family money she deserved.

While she’d been carefully–and secretly dating women, I’d played the role of boyfriend on the occasions when she needed a date.

It hadn’t been an issue. Until now. I hadn’t dated anyone seriously in years, if really at all if I thought about it.

It didn’t matter to me if people thought Farrah and I were together. It was how I could be a friend to her.

Until. Fucking. Now.

The news of who she was marrying had to stay secret until the wedding, until there was no chance for her father to change any legal paperwork. It probably would have remained a secret except for her ring and some very snoopy paparazzi.

I couldn’t deny any of it. I had to play along.

Silas was quiet for a second. “Jesus, Mav. What about Bridget? Did you at least explain it to her? Because she didn’t seem to know you were engaged when she was screaming your name this morning.”

At this point, I didn’t care that he’d overheard us. Or that Dex and Theo probably had as well. I was cocky as hell that I was the man to bring Bridget pleasure. But I did care that he was right. When her pussy walls milked my fingers, I hadn’t even known about the shitshow either.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah, fuck. After what we learned about her last night? About that douche nozzle professor? I don’t think she’s going to handle the news well.”

That was an understatement of epic proportions. It was going to crush her and everything we’d been building together.

“I’ll call her,” I said. “Tell her.”

“Tell her what, if you can’t even tell me.”

“I’ll tell her to wait. To trust me.”

Silas laughed. “Yeah, right. That woman’s going to trust you?

The guy who fucked her and fled. Who’s all over the tabloids and social media as getting married to another woman in a few days?

Who got her to trust her and then fucked her six ways to Sunday and then walked away?

You have to be fucking blind not see she’s fallen for you.

She couldn’t be any more used than a dirty dish at a Vegas buffet. ”

I groaned, then swore because his words hit me hard. And too accurate.

“I’ll make this right. I have to. I… I’ve fallen for her.”

“That is really fucking obvious. But a guy who’s fallen for a woman isn’t marrying someone else.”