Page 41 of Reaper & the Lioness (Lone Star Mavericks MC #1)
Chapter Thirty-Two
T he dust motes danced in the living room as the afternoon sun filtered through the window. We finally settled in our home after a month of picking paint colors, wrangling movers, and navigating Eva’s particular packing preferences.
Settled . The idea was foreign.
For most of my life, “home” became wherever the Corps shipped me or whatever corner of the clubhouse I could carve out.
Now, home was this—a messy stack of blueprints for my next job threatening to spill onto the coffee table, sour candy on the countertop, and the thump-thump-thump of Hawk’s tail against the hardwood floors.
I’d always thought settling down meant giving something up—freedom, control, my independence.
But with Eva, I’d gained more than I ever thought possible.
She didn’t just fit into my world. She enhanced it.
And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t just living day to day. I thought about the future.
I found her in the kitchen, arguing with the dishwasher. The woman could wrangle millionaire CEOs and New York Times editors, but a goddamn appliance reduced her to sputtering frustration.
I leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the sight of her with flour dusted across her black tank top. She’d attempted—and failed—to bake a cake this morning.
“Need backup, Lioness?” I asked, a smirk tugging at my lips.
She shot me a withering glance. “This is why I don’t cook or clean. This fucking thing. I need a doctorate to turn it on. It’s started flashing lights at me. I think it’s mocking me!”
I stepped into the room and opened the dishwasher. I rearranged a few dishes, closed the door, and pressed a button. The machine whirred as it started.
“You like control over everything. Even the appliances. But honestly, you load the dishwasher like a raccoon on cocaine. That’s probably why it won’t work for you.”
She ignored the dig. Probably because I was right.
“What’s the point of having smart appliances if they don’t work?”
I chuckled and pulled her into my arms, kissing a floury cheek.
“We need to go buy a cake, by the way.” She gestured to the chocolate-covered catastrophe on the granite countertop.
I smirked at her. “I’m sure the one you baked doesn’t taste bad. It just looks …” I paused, unsure of how to describe her baking disaster. “Like I should probably be in charge of desserts from now on.”
Eva halfheartedly punched me. “It’s fine. Kenna and I will just go out for dessert this weekend. She won’t be surprised that her celebratory cake was a massive failure.”
Eva’s best friend from college, Kenna, had left the East Coast to help manage Eva’s growing roster of clients in Houston and San Antonio. Her consulting business—now renamed Lioness Communications—had grown faster than she’d ever expected.
I watched with pride and awe as she juggled client calls, strategy sessions, and proposals while settling into our new life together.
I’d even let her take the lead on the business side of Grimm Construction, and I’d hired two new project managers just to keep up with the contracts.
I admired this side of her I hadn’t appreciated before—the sharp, ambitious businesswoman who could command a room even from miles away.
We’d planned to help Kenna move into Eva’s old house.
When we pulled up to the small home on my bike, now vacant and waiting for its new occupant, the memories of the night I’d saved Eva’s life blasted through me.
It was more than just a memory. It served as a goddamn before-and-after snapshot of my life.
If I’d let her take a fucking Uber home that evening, she’d be dead. And … fuck, the thought alone made my gut clench.
Fifteen minutes after we arrived, Kenna pulled in behind the wheel of a rental truck smaller than I expected. Turns out you can’t amass a lot of stuff in a D.C. studio apartment.
Kenna stood barely five feet tall, petite, with curious green eyes, a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks, and shoulder-length auburn hair. She looked more like a librarian than a savvy consultant, wearing a blue polka-dot sundress. But I’d learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving.
I observed with amusement as she and her best friend-turned-business partner argued about the best way to organize a closet in between debating brand taglines for a new client.
It was refreshing to witness Eva in her element.
After watching her adapt to my world, I was intrigued to glimpse a part of hers.
She appeared more animated, and the dark, warped sense of humor she shared with Kenna sometimes startled me.
I’d recruited Merrick and Hatchet to help with the heavier pieces of furniture.
They’d agreed, probably because they liked being around Eva.
She had a way of speaking her mind, a frankness that amused them—primarily since she remained the only person who could get away with the pointed comments she lobbed at me.
Merrick tripped over himself to carry a vintage table for Kenna. She seemed more intrigued than intimidated by his massive size, scars, and stoic stare.
“Careful with that,” I warned. “It’s probably worth more than your bike.”
Linc's background check on Kenna had uncovered a few interesting facts—including that her parents were beyond rich. She likely had expensive taste. With an enormous trust fund in her name, Kenna only worked because she wanted to.
Kenna laughed. “It’s just an old piece I brought from home. Are you sure you don’t need any help? It’s the least I can do.”
Her eyes lingered on the tattooed biceps straining against Merrick’s shirt sleeve. She made no secret of admiring my men as they helped move her furniture.
Merrick grunted. A rare hint of shyness colored his cheeks. He didn’t clam up around women. Hell, for the past few years, he’d rarely acknowledged them, preferring his solitude over relationships. It was a subtle shift, but I noticed it.
Hatchet stepped in, hoisting a bulky armchair over his blond head like it weighed nothing. “I got this, ma’am. Where does it go?”
I shot him a sharp glare. Hatchet caught it and hesitated. For a split second, the cocky tilt of his mouth faltered. He could chase any piece of ass in Texas, but I didn’t want him crossing the line with Eva’s best friend.
Kenna’s gaze followed him. “Wow, impressive. Let me show you.” She flashed Hatchet a grateful smile.
Eva nudged me with her elbow as she helped me move the endless boxes of books to the living room. “Hatchet likes her. I think they’d be adorable together.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “You and Rhetta and your goddamn matchmaking.”
Eva grinned, undeterred. “She’s my best friend, and I want her to find someone worthy here. I think a Maverick is just what she needs to move on.”
I let out a long sigh. Eva stood ready to meddle, just like Rhetta had been with us.
A fter Eva and I returned to our house after a long afternoon, I found myself in the kitchen, making her favorite pasta with salmon and a lemon-cream sauce—even though Eva had insisted ordering pizza would be fine.
Despite feeling tired and sore, I wanted to prepare something nice to celebrate.
Kenna planned to join us after a quick shower following a sweaty day.
Eva wanted to help, but cooking wasn’t exactly her forte—a fact evident when I asked her to add the noodles to the water. I’d assumed she understood the simple assignment until she snapped them in half before dropping them in the pot.
I stared at the mangled mess. “The fuck are you doing?”
Eva blinked. “Is it that big of a deal?”
I clenched my jaw in irritation. “Yes, it’s a big deal. You don’t break linguine noodles in half. Why don’t you go drink some wine and wait for your friend on the front porch?”
Eva giggled. Despite my annoyance, I found the sound endearing. As she turned to leave, she reached over the cutting board and swiped a handful of freshly shredded parmesan. She popped it into her mouth with a mischievous grin.
“You goddamn food shark!” I yelled and swatted her ass with the wooden spoon sitting on the countertop. “Get out of here.”
She laughed and sashayed out of the kitchen. Hawk trotted at her heels with hope for cheese crumbs. I groaned and got back to cooking. I loved her, but I was considering banning her from the kitchen.
Kenna proved just as fiery as I’d expected when she joined us for dinner. After a few glasses of wine, she became even more lively. Her eyes sparkled as she and Eva shared stories and memories.
“How did you and Eva meet?” I asked, curious about the friendship between these two strong-willed women.
Kenna grinned. A hint of nostalgia colored her expression. “We were rivals. Both majoring in PR. Neck and neck every time a professor had a friendly competition. Both vying for the best internships. Honestly, I hated her.”
Eva chuckled. “The only person I know who is more competitive than me is Kenna.”
Kenna continued her story, leaning forward. “A professor paired us for a class project, and we became allies. We were strong on our own. But together? We became a fucking force to be reckoned with.”
I could imagine it. Eva and Kenna in their twenties, planning their careers, plotting to take on the world with their combined ambition and talent.
“So, Reaper, when will you ask Eva to marry you?”
I choked on the sip of beer I’d just drunk. The liquid burned as it went down the wrong pipe. Coughing and sputtering, I tried to regain my composure while Eva patted my back.
“Jesus, Kenna,” Eva chided. “You can’t just drop bombs like that.”
Kenna shrugged. “What? It’s an honest question. Now that I see you two together, it’s crystal clear to me. Eva, I’ve never known you to be so in love.”
“Fuck me,” I rasped. I attempted to clear my throat, but my eyes were still watering.
Eva’s hand remained on my back as it tensed. We hadn’t discussed marriage yet, and now her best friend had caught me off guard.