Page 314 of The Havenport Collection

Maeve

“ P retty please?” I made a pouty face and started jumping up and down. Alice looked unimpressed, but her lip quirked slightly and I knew I’d get my way.

“I’m tired. Work was brutal and I just want to veg out and watch TV. I am not a party girl.”

“Neither am I. But I’ve never gone to the Whale on a Thursday night. And I just want to have a few drinks and let loose a bit.”

“Do you think that’s wise, given your recent arrest?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “It’s fine. Tristian is going to drop the charges, and if anything, pissing off Mom and Dad has been really fun.

I’ve never seen them so horrified. I thought they were disappointed when Sylvie said she wanted to go to music school, but nothing comes close to my brush with the law. ”

Alice patted my head. “You act like you did five years in the state pen. It was an arrest and I bailed you out two hours later.”

I shrug. “I’m hard now.”

“Sure you are. But I am tired.”

She turned and walked toward the kitchen but I was faster, cutting her off in the hallway. “You’re thirty-two not seventy-two; start acting your age.”

She pushed me aside and rolled her eyes. “I have nothing to wear.”

“To the Whale? Get over yourself.”

“That’s my line.”

“I’m throwing it back at you. Get your butt dressed. I’m buying.”

I hadn’t been back to the Tipsy Whale since the night I spent with Oliver more than a month ago.

Not that I was counting or anything. Or constantly thinking about him.

Especially how hot he looked in his uniform.

And how wet I had gotten when he slapped handcuffs on me.

I definitely wasn’t thinking about any of that stuff at all.

Alice greeted the bartender warmly before ordering a glass of wine. “You’ve been here?” I asked in amazement.

“Unlike you, I have a social life, so yes. Sometimes we come here after faculty meetings.”

“Do Mom and Dad know?”

“That I occasionally frequent a bar and drink alcohol at age thirty-two? I have no idea, but probably.”

I nodded, still taking it all in. It was crowded with locals chatting, playing darts, and arguing over selections on the vintage style jukebox. I recognized several people from high school and various other acquaintances, and suddenly, all the bravado I had been feeling faded away quickly.

I noticed a few stares as Alice greeted people and mingled. Shit. The entire town probably knew about my canceled wedding and my subsequent arrest.

I noticed Nora Rossi holding court at a large table with a group of women. I didn’t know her well, but I waved, remembering how terrible I was at social interactions.

She smiled and walked over. “Good to see you, Maeve,” she said, kissing me on both cheeks. “So sorry about your wedding.”

I nodded. “Everyone knows?”

She nodded sheepishly. “It’s Havenport, so yeah.”

I squared my shoulders. This was inevitable. I had to control the narrative. For better or worse, this town was my home.

“But don’t be embarrassed. I heard you attacked his car with a baseball bat. That’s pretty badass.”

I smirked. I couldn’t be ashamed of my arrest if I tried. I felt like I had done something significant. Crossed some invisible boundary and let myself finally be free. “It was a field hockey stick,” I corrected.

“Even better. Let’s go to the bar; I’m buying shots.”

I followed her, trying to emulate the set of her shoulders and the tip of her chin. Nora was beautiful and carried herself like a queen. She radiated self-confidence, and I wanted to beg her for her secrets.

I took the shot of tequila and eyed it suspiciously. I had never taken a shot before. I had certainly seen others do it, but I felt nervous and a bit excited. Was I the kind of girl who took shots now? Why the fuck not.

Nora called over some friends and introduced me to a tall, icy blonde named Astrid.

Violet Thompson was with them. I froze—Violet owned the Thompson Farm, the place where Tristian and I were supposed to get married.

The canceled wedding was not exactly a secret, but I worried I’d never get away from the humiliation.

The girl who was left at the (almost) altar.

However, the girls didn’t treat me with pity. Instead they seemed excited to see me and quite enthusiastic about tequila on a Thursday night, so I decided to go for it.

“To Maeve,” Nora said, “For getting rid of a shitty dude. We’ve all been there, and better things are right around the corner.” The other two smirked before clinking my shot glass.

I licked the salt off my wrist as they did and then I tipped the glass back and swallowed, enjoying the spicy burn. My stomach clenched and I worried it would come back up, but then things settled down and I enjoyed the warmth spreading through me.

Nora handed me a lime wedge. “Here, suck on this.” I put the lime in my mouth and smiled, feeling proud of myself.

Tonight I’d put on a cute dress and dragged myself out to a bar, where I was trying new things and making new friends. Take that, Tristian. I was growing, dammit.

With the lime still in my lips, I turned toward the door and almost choked. Standing there, wearing a sexy grin, was Oliver.

In the crowded room, he stood out, not just because of his height, but the way he carried himself, self-assured and powerful but approachable at the same time. Completely at ease with himself and the world. It was infuriating.

I turned back to my new friends, desperate to avoid being seen. “Another?” I asked, placing my empty glass on the bar.

Violet demurred, saying she had to be up early with her kids, but Astrid came closer. “Yes. Let’s do another. Then we can compare arrest stories.”

Nora registered the shock on my face. “Oh Maeve, you have much to learn. Havenport is home to a lot of badass women. And tonight’s your lucky night, because you get to hang out with a few of them.”

Another tequila shot and two Moscow Mules later, I was dancing with my new friends and having the time of my life.

Alice left after one glass of wine, making me promise to call her for a ride home later.

It was sort of strange not being the responsible one for a change.

Normally it was me looking out for my little sisters, not the other way around. And I didn’t hate it.

But I was tipsy. Okay, a bit more than tipsy. I was an entry-level drinker, and those tequila shots had clearly put me over the edge. And since the first and only time I had gotten drunk in my thirty-five years on earth had resulted in an arrest, I figured it was time to switch to water.

I headed to the bar in search of hydration only to find myself walking straight into the mountain of a man who had slapped the cuffs on my wrists just a few days prior.

“Watson,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. “Committed any petty crimes tonight?”

I looked up at him. His stubble was thick, and he possessed the kind of annoyingly thick eyelashes that men get and women would kill for. “No. But it’s still early,” I said, trying to sound saucy.

I took a step toward the bar and stumbled. “Had a few?” he asked, steadying me with his annoyingly strong and masculine hands.

“I’m fine, Sherlock. Just getting some water actually.”

He nodded. “Wise choice.”

If he only knew how obedient and boring I actually was. I shrugged and gave him a smile, noticing that his hand was still on my arm.

“So what came first. The hero complex or the badge?” I quipped.

He bit his lip and I almost swooned. “You’re a firecracker, Watson.”

“Most men fear me.”

He leaned in closer. “I am not most men. Now,” he continued, taking a step back and putting some much-needed space between us, “tell me what led you to a life of crime?”

Disappointed that my tongue wasn’t already down his throat, I considered his question.

“I’ve spent my entire life being perfect and dependable.

I’ve woken up every day since I was five years old and put my needs and desires aside to make life easier for everyone around me.

My parents, my sisters, my teachers. And then the partners at the firm and my shitty string of ex-boyfriends.

And finally Tristian. The world’s biggest asshole. ”

He looked concerned, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t need to do that. You don’t need to be perfect.”

Of course he would say that. He was a giant with a badge and a gun. The world took him seriously. “But I do. I need to look good and be polite and constantly smiling. People don’t like angry women.”

I was really getting going. The alcohol mixed with the deep well of rage in my belly and made me even angrier than usual.

It didn’t help that he was asking questions, trying to get to know me.

We were in a crowded bar, but our conversation felt intimate.

He gave me his full attention, listening to what I had to say.

Totally unlike Tristian, who usually had his face in his phone and rarely asked me questions about myself.

I found myself wanting to talk. And not small talk.

Real talk. “And at work, I’ve got to be assertive, but not too assertive.

Be smarter and work harder than all the men, but still wear skirts and refill coffees when necessary.

I have to dance this invisible line every day to try and inch closer to equality.

“But you know the truth? I’m not their equal. I am so much better. Smarter. Meaner. And more ambitious. But I can’t be a threat. I’d be out on my ass before you could say difficult woman.”

He leaned in again, making my nipples stand at attention. “You are so much more than I expected, Watson.”

I took a step closer, feeling bold. He smelled good, like pine trees and soap, and I leaned in for more. His shoulders were massive and his thick biceps could probably crush rocks. My body hummed with excitement, my senses drinking in every inch of him.

What is this feeling? The buzzing inside me. The alertness and awareness of him?

I considered for a moment before my drunk brain caught up. Lust. Good old-fashioned lust.

He handed me a glass of water and I noticed just how capable his hands looked.

I flashed back to how they felt on my body.

Those thick fingers tangled in my hair and…

Jesus. I clenched my thighs, feeling the pressure build.

Since our night together, my lady parts had been on high alert, and I simply could not let this opportunity pass me by.