Lost Rider Page 4

  "Mav." Quinn attempts to butt in, but stops when Maverick leaves her side and turns to stalk out of the church. I should find it comical that he obviously didn't recognize me, or hell, maybe he did and he's just picking up where he left off ten years ago in the middle of the dark woods.

  I take a deep breath. "It's okay. He's right. Y'all need some time as a family. I'll head over to the PieHole and start settin' up for tonight."

  Quinn brushes a tear from her cheek and just shakes her head. I look at Clay to see him staring in the direction that his brother just left.

  "You're family," he finally says, not looking in my direction.

  "Clay, really, it's okay. It's been a long time since y'all were back together and I don't need to be there for that reunion. It sucks that it takes all of this to finally bring him home, but he's here and y'all need to make up for a lot of time lost."

  "Shut up, Leighton."

  "Don't, Clay."

  "Don't what? You've got every right to be here. You're just as much a part of our family as he is. Hell, maybe even more so than he is at this point. So just shut up, come with us, and ignore him."

  I shake my head, the fight instantly leaving my sails, knowing I would be arguing until the end of time if I pressed this issue.

  "I can't believe he doesn't even recognize you," Quinn whispers.

  "Or he did and that's why he wants me gone. You know we didn't part on good terms back then. It's really no big deal, Q. I'm good and the last thing I want is to let him cause you more pain today. Let's just get you home and changed. Don't worry about me. That's the last thing you should be doing."

  We move, the three of us together, out of the church. Everyone has cleared out and there are only two huge trucks and the pastor's Honda sitting in the gravel lot now. Maverick is leaning against the black Silverado, his Stetson pulled down again as he takes a drag off his smoke.

  "Gross, when did he start that again?" Quinn asks her brother. I watch the smoke puff out around his face, wondering why I find that so sexy.

  "No clue, darlin', figured he quit a long time ago."

  "Still here?" Maverick asks without looking up from the rocks he's kicking up with the toe of his boot.

  "Shut the fuck up, Mav," Clay snaps.

  "Yeah? Who's gonna make me? You?"

  "Jesus, how old are you two?" I ask, finally finding my voice. "Maybe you two could stop actin' like kids long enough to keep your shit to yourselves and be there for your sister."

  "The hell you say?"

  I look up, finding the backbone I had seemed to lose at my first glimpse of Maverick Davis in one long ass decade and cross my arms over my chest, cursing my boobs when I notice his eyes drop to where I'm sure they're spilling out the top of my dress.

  "My eyes are up here, cowboy," I snap and drop my arms to point to my face. "Have a little respect."

  "Well, darlin', if you didn't want someone to look, maybe you should cover yourself. You put it out there, I'm gonna look."

  "You're an asshole," I fume.

  "I'm surprised you let her dress like that, Clay, she's just beggin' for the attention."

  "Just when I thought that you couldn't be a bigger fucking ass, you just keep goin'," I respond, interrupting Clay before he could speak.

  "Darlin', you don't know me a thing about me, so why don't you keep your opinions to yourself."

  "Jesus, Mav," Quinn gasps in shock.

  I look at Quinn, giving her a smile before walking the two steps forward that will bring me toe-to-toe with Maverick.

  "You, Maverick Austin Davis, haven't changed one bit. You would think that in the years that you've been gone from Pine Oak you would remember what happens when you treat a girl like the shit stuck under your boot, but let me assure you that I stopped dressing for attention a long time ago. Ten years ago to be exact and honestly darlin' I couldn't give two shits if you noticed me when that notice is neither wanted nor desired. Get your head out of your own ass long enough to stop being a massive prick and have some respect for your brother, sister, and your father."

  His hand comes up and he tips his hat back so that he can see me better, but I don't give him a second to try to figure out what I'm talking about before I turn and walk over to Quinn.

  "Come on, babe, let's get back to the ranch so you can get changed. Clay?" I ask, holding out my hands to take the urn before moving with Quinn to the truck's door. I open her door and wait for her to sit down in the front before handing the urn to her and shutting her door. I take a deep breath before moving to the back of the crew cab to open the back door. I look behind me, give Maverick one long, hard, hateful gaze before hiking my skirt up way past respectful levels, placing my heel on the running board and with a small leap, jump into the backseat, and slam the door behind me.

  "Holy shit," I gasp in the silence around us after the door shuts.

  "I really can't believe he didn't recognize you, Leigh. Hell's bells, that was intense."

  "It's been a long time, Q. I've changed a lot since he last saw me."

  "You were at the rodeo in Vegas not even two years ago."

  I laugh. "Quinn, you know damn well that I went out of my way for him not to see me."

  She was silent for a while, probably trying to remember that night. "You skipped the bar after, didn't you? Shit, Leigh! You've always skipped goin' out with us after every rodeo, haven't you."

  "Ding, ding, ding," I sarcastically tell her.

  "How did I not notice that before now? My lord, Leigh. I know you didn't come to many with us, but now that I'm thinking back, you really did vanish any time we went to see Mav."

  "Because I didn't want you to. It's not a big deal, Q. I've only been to a few and it was easier for me to beg off than make you guys suffer through the awkwardness that would follow if I tagged along. You didn't get enough time together as it was and there was no way I was going to take away from that. Judging by how all this just went down, it would have ruined the time you did have together for sure anyway."

  I look out the window as Chris Stapleton's voice sings through the speakers and see Maverick and Clay in a heated discussion. I can't hear them, not since Quinn turned the truck on while we wait, but when Maverick's head snaps up to look in my direction, I know Clay just spilled the beans.

  Yeah, it sure does looks like Maverick Davis has come home.

  "Shit," I whisper.

  5

  MAVERICK

  "Nobody to Blame" by Chris Stapleton

  "You're a goddamn asshole, Mav, you know that? First you're late when you knew Quinn wanted you--no, needed you--here with her. Now you're showin' your ass when you have no right."

  "Show my ass? You're the one having your newest piece sitting front row and center with my family. Looked like Quinn didn't need me one second, brother."

  "Goddamn, Mav!" he exclaims and steps closer into my space. "Could you be a bigger fool?"

  "Excuse me? You've got that tramp up there with my family, dressed like some two-bit whore, in a church, no less. She's probably got nothing but dollar signs in her eyes now that the old man's kicked the bucket. I wouldn't be shocked if she starts baiting you for a ring after the will is read. Make sure and get a real good prenup, Clay."

  I need a drink. I can't control my words if I tried. Too much shit swirling around in my head long before I even rolled over the town line, especially after everything that happened in Vegas. When you add that on top of why I even came home, yeah--I definitely need a drink. Just being back in Pine Oak is making me feel like I'm going insane. A caged animal desperate to break free of its confines. I know I'm being a prick, but I can't seem to make my mouth stop spewing shit.

  Clay let out a low growl. "If I didn't think it would upset the girls, I would beat your fuckin' head in for that."

  I cross my arms over my chest and stand to my full six-foot-four-inch height and hold his heated gaze.

  "Your intimidation bullshit won't work on me," Clay heatedly says with a dry laugh as he
walks closer. "Let me help you out here, little brother, since as you've been gone a lot has changed around here. A lot. That woman you seem so sure in your judgment over there is the furthest thing to a whore you could find. She's the one that's been by our side daily. When Quinn and I had to leave Pops alone after his first stroke, she was the one that stuck around to make sure he was okay. Closed down her bakery for hours while she sat there and read to the old man." He takes a deep breath, letting it out in a rush. "She was the one that dug her knees into the hardwood for forty-five minutes and did CPR on him even though she probably knew he was well past the point of help. She did that until someone found them. Too afraid to stop her compressions and run for a phone to actually call for help because she refused to give up hope that she could do somethin'. Forty-five minutes she never once gave up. Sat there until her knees were bruised tryin' in vain to save him."

  "You left her there with him? Damn, Clay . . . for all you know she could have been fuckin' her way to his money the second you turned you back."

  "I should fuckin' deck you," he says, seething. "I really fuckin' should."

  "How well do you even know her? You haven't said one word about having a new piece of ass so she must not have been in the picture long. Best I can tell, I'm not too far off the mark."

  "How well do I know her?" He laughs bitterly. "I'd say pretty well, considering she's been Quinn's best friend for twenty-six fuckin' years. Why don't you let that sink in, you fuckin' asshole?"

  My eyes leave his instantly and I look over to his truck, trying to see past the black tint that hides her from my view. No fucking way. It couldn't be.

  "Yeah . . . see you're connecting the dots just fine now. Congratulations, Mav, not even back in town an hour and I'd say you've managed to hurt Quinn and give Leighton some more pain to add to the last dose you dished out. Shit, brother, it's like you never left."

  He slaps my chest, shakes his head, and walks over to his truck. Before he rounds the bed, he looks back over and meets my stunned gaze. "You fucked up, but that doesn't mean Quinn isn't going to want you close. All she's wanted since the day you fuckin' left was for you to come home. Do what you need to in order to make it up to both of them."

  He doesn't wait for a response. I look back at the darkened window when it rolls down a few inches. Clay reverses out of the parking spot, that crack in the window taunting me as it gets closer to where I'm standing, and right when he shifts into drive, one dainty as fuck hand comes out--middle finger pointed straight up and fuck me, I couldn't stop the burst of laughter that shot out of my mouth.

  Looks like little Leighton James is all grown up.

  The last time I saw her, I know I hurt her deeply. It's a moment I'm not proud of and has popped up more often than I'd care to admit over the years. A regret I will always have. The look on her face when she walked away that night held me stuck in place for almost an hour. I tried everything I could to justify my actions. To find a way to right what I already knew was wrong, but I knew then, just like I do now, that if I would have given in to the truth to my feelings about her, I never would have gotten out of this town.

  Leighton James isn't a woman that you can have and let go.

  I knew exactly what I was fucking doing when I saw her heading our way that night of the bonfire. It's the same thing that I've done to everyone else in my life.

  Push them away before they push me away.

  "Fuck!" I shout, pulling off my hat and running my hand through my sweaty hair. Settling the hat back on top of my head, I look up at the blue sky above me and wonder, not for the first time, who the hell I pissed off up there so badly that I keep finding myself in these positions.

  Whipping the people I care about when the only thing they've ever done was care back.

  Leighton's words come whispering back through my mind and I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering the look of hurt on her face.

  "You would think that in the years that you've been gone from Pine Oak you would remember what happens when you treat a girl like the shit stuck under your boot."

  "One would think . . ." I mumble to myself before giving my tire a kick.

  "Maverick? That you, son?"

  I look up, searching for the voice. When I see old Ms. Marybeth Perkins, I give her a smile. One that comes easily when I remember the sweet lady that would bring over home-cooked meals when Pops got too drunk to cook for his kids after Mama left.

  "Well, I'll be. It is you, sugar. Just as ornery as you were the day you skedaddled out of here faster than Jim Bob's last win at the hot dog eating contest. Mind you, he had a little snag when he thought he could eat three of those dogs at the same time, but he still finished in just shy of two minutes. Mighty fast, if you ask me." She ambles over slowly, her walker's little tennis balls hitting the ground softly.

  "Hey, Miz Perkins." I give her a smile, feeling some of the tightness in my gut ease.

  "You sure are a sight for sore eyes. About time you got your tail home. You here for good this time?" Her weathered hand comes up and she gives my cheek a few pats.

  "Yes, ma'am. Just got back today."

  "Good, good, honey," she says, still smiling and patting my cheek.

  I'm about to open my mouth to speak when her smile slips and she gives me a look cold enough to freeze hell. The soft hand that had been patting my cheek lovingly gives me one more pat, a helluva lot harder than the last. She lets go of her walker with her other hand, brings them both to my chest, and balls my shirt in her hands, jerking me down to her level with a strength that I never would have thought she possessed.

  "You young'uns always actin' like you know everything when you really can't tell a horse's ass from your own. Dreams always too big for your own head, Maverick Davis. You had a wild air about ya, even as a young buck. Sowed those oats, I reckon, and now you're back home. Where you always belonged."

  "With all due respect," I start, but snap my mouth shut when she reaches up and pinches the top of my ear.

  "I remember the day you left. Those back wheels of yours spinnin' up so much dust it took years to settle back down. I might be old, but I ain't senile. Watchin' that sweet girl follow you around like a lost pup lookin' for a scrap. Hurt her good when you left, but I reckon you meant it that way."

  I open my mouth, wishing she would let go of my ear, but she just gives it a twist and pulls me down so my back is hunched over her walker while she looks directly into my eyes.

  "She's been through too much pain in her years for you to add more to it. Leave that poor girl alone if you can't get that stick out of your ass, you hear me?"

  "Yes, ma'am." Fuck, is she pulling my ear off my goddamn head? I'd agree to just about anything if it meant she would release her hold.

  "Good. Now I'm going to tell you somethin', young man, and I hope to high heaven that you take mind. Your old man was a sorry bastard, God rest his soul. Did no good by you three as far as I could tell. After that no-good mama of yours ran off, coldness settled inside of him that was just pure evil. You take mind of that, Maverick, and don't repeat his mistakes. Not everyone has it in them to up and leave you. You left just like your mama, thinkin' you were bigger than your own roots, and just like her you didn't think one second about that cloud of dust you left in your wake. It's time to come home, not just your body, but your soul too. Open that stubborn mind of yours and take a good clear look around you."

  "Miz Perkins, I appreciate what you're sayin', but I really mean no disrespect when I say that it's really not any of your business."

  She hums softly. "Yes, I reckon you would think that, but you've been gone a long time, boy, and like I said, I'm not senile. I'm old, but not dead. When that no-good daddy of yours got sick it was like somethin' snapped inside of him and he's spent the last couple of years makin' amends with your brother and sister. Tore them up when he passed, but you? You act like just bein' here is too much to ask. You won't see it now, maybe not anytime soon, but I've lived a lot of days and I know a stupid fool wh
en I see one."

  "It's not stupid when you're makin' sure you don't repeat history, Miz Perkins."

  "Ha! Like I said, stupid fool. Wasn't that you repeatin' history when you kicked up that dust cloud? Now you're back and just like your daddy, you're hurtin' those that love you."

  "Jesus Christ," I mumble and pull my hat off, again, to wipe at the sweat on my forehead.

  "You watch your mouth, young man. I've got my eyes on you. You remember that the next time you want to act like a little turd. Now give me a hug and go apologize to your family, Leighton James included."

  Fucking hell, I forgot how she always saw everything.

  I give her the hug she demanded and kissed her wrinkled cheek.

  "That's more like it. It was good to see you, Maverick. You be a good boy and come by one night soon for dinner, you hear? Now be a dear and walk me over to Johnny's car," she says in a sweet voice, no sign of the old hellcat who just handed my ass to me on a big steaming platter.

  I look up, seeing Pastor John Lewis leaning against his car. I give him a small nod as I help her walk over. He doesn't say anything, instead climbs behind the wheel, but I don't miss the smile playing about his lips. I help her get settled in the passenger seat and stand back so they can pull out.

  Clearly that last buck off knocked all the sense right out of my head, because if I was a smart man I would have gotten back in my truck and hightailed it right back out of town, but with my ear still burning from Marybeth Perkins's wrath, I pull out of the church lot and head to the last place I want to go.

  The Davis ranch.

  Home.

  6

  LEIGHTON

  "Better in Boots" by Tyler Farr

  After leaving the church, Clay heads toward my house. The ride is silent, but my mind isn't, and for that, I am thankful. It means I'll have some quiet time before I need to be at the PieHole. I have a feeling that they need that as well. Right now, the last thing I want is to head over there, which has me feeling even more out of sorts. Normally, you couldn't get me to leave my bakery, but after this afternoon I just want to stay home, pour a hot bath, and get lost in a good book.

  With a deep sigh, I climb the steps to my porch, waving good-bye to Clay's retreating truck as I go. I had planned on spending some time on one of the many rocking chairs that line the wraparound porch after Buford's funeral, but I know any time I allow myself to be idle will just kick my mind into full speed down memory lane, and that's the last place I want to be.