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  Lust.

  Pure and simple.

  Well, not so simple, since now I have to deal with the fallout.

  I know deep down that this was a long time coming. We had been building toward it since he rode back into town. Our emotions too strong to deny the explosion our anger was sparking.

  I shift, moving slowly to the edge of the bed, while keeping my eyes on his face. He doesn't stir. I stand, letting my breath out slowly when my chest starts to burn. I'm not sure how long I was out.

  The only thing I am sure of in this moment is that I need to get the hell out of here.

  I look around the room, embarrassingly just now realizing that we must be in his old bedroom. The full moon is illuminating the room through the open blinds and I easily spy the dark duffel bag thrown on the floor at the foot of his bed. I grab the first thing my hand hits, a soft T-shirt, and pull it over my naked body. The hem hits me almost to my knees so I stop my search. I would rather be barely covered than risk him waking up while I'm trying to make my escape.

  My foot hits a weak spot in the floor and a loud creak echoes around me. My eyes shoot to his face as my breath is once against stalled in my chest. He rolls, one muscular arm coming out and searching. I panic, again, and quickly turn to grab the pillow off the top of the bed and place it in his path. He, thankfully, wraps his arm around it and turns his head into its softness. Letting out the breath I had been holding, I make my way to the door again. Right when I silently close the door behind me, I hear his gravelly, sleep-roughened voice moan my name.

  The sound alone makes me want him again, but I know this was a mistake and returning to his bed would make things only worse. But even knowing without a doubt that it would be a mistake, a very big part of me wants to turn around anyway. It takes everything I have in me, but self-preservation wins and I rush down to the kitchen as silently as I can.

  One look at the clock above the oven confirms that not even two hours have passed since I arrived at the Davis ranch. I'm sure that had I been here any longer, Clay and Quinn would have returned--but I'm fairly confident that they're still at the PieHole. Especially since I pulled out the rest of my moonshine stash before I stormed from there with the bats of hell chasing my tail.

  I grab my discarded clothes, ignoring the mess around the kitchen, and run to my Jeep. I toss my clothes and shoes in the passenger seat, my boots slamming against the door, and with shaking fingers I turn the ignition and slam my bare foot down on the accelerator. I hear the gravel ping against my undercarriage, but the fear of waking Maverick keeps me focused. I turn the wheel, speeding through the circular drive in front of the Davis family home and down the long lane that will put me back onto the main road.

  In all my determination to get out unnoticed, I failed to see the porch light flicker on and the tall, very naked man that filled the open doorway. Which really is a shame, because had I been paying attention, I would have seen the look of promise-filled determination that took over his features. I had unknowingly awoken the sleeping dragon, and there wasn't anything that would be powerful enough to stand in the way of the hungry beast that had been hiding for so many years.

  It might have taken more than ten years, but I finally got my wish--Maverick hadn't just noticed me, but he also realized what he had missed out on by denying us both what we had always been destined to find.

  And nothing would ever be the same again.

  10

  MAVERICK

  "Amarillo by Morning" by George Strait

  "What's gotten into you?"

  I continue to spray the inside of Dixon's stall before picking up my pitchfork and shoveling in the hay that I had brought down from the loft this morning, ignoring my sister's repeated questions from behind me. A place where she's been standing since she got down to the barn fifteen minutes ago. Comically trying to intimidate me with her stubbornness.

  "Maverick! Stop ignoring me and tell me what the hell crawled up your ass."

  "Nothin' to tell, Quinny," I snap back, using her old nickname that I know gets under her skin like nothing else, in a vain effort to cut off her insistent questioning.

  I should know better than anyone that when Quinn gets her mind on something, there's no getting her off of it no matter what name you call her.

  "Don't you 'Quinny' me, Maverick Austin Davis. You've had a burr stuck up your ass for two weeks now. The same burr, I might add, that has decided to root itself deep in my best friend too. Now, I might be off the mark here--however, I seriously doubt that I am--but I do want you to clue me in on why you both are actin' like petulant little brats."

  With one last flick of my wrists, I toss another pitchfork full of hay down into the stall, checking briefly to make sure I've finished, and turn to face my sister. I place the pitchfork's handle against the stall door and cross my arms over my chest--mirroring her stance--and wait for her to continue, because Lord knows she isn't done.

  "I mean, Jesus Jones, Maverick. You hadn't even arrived back long enough for the mud on your tires to dry and you were creating an epic storm in your path, but it's more than that and we both know it. What happened when she left the PieHole and came to find you? After, I might add, that insane kiss that you plastered on her in front of THE WHOLE TOWN! I mean, seriously, what has gotten into you!?" By the time Quinn finally shut her damn trap, she was red in the face and pacing back and forth. I could hear Daisy, Quinn's horse, getting agitated in her stall. Not because of Quinn's screeching, but more so because she wasn't getting the attention she loves from her. Those two have been thick as thieves since the day Daisy was born.

  "Are you finished?" Ignoring her, I take a step back and reach out toward where Daisy is sticking her head out, huffing deep exhales in exasperation to be noticed, and give her a sugar cube from my pocket.

  Quinn pins me with a death stare. "I don't know. Let me think."

  My lips twitch and I have to fight the smile that starts to dance at the edges. I wipe off the wetness that Daisy left behind before pulling my favorite Stetson off and wiping the sweat from my forehead into my damp hair and shoving the hat back in place. I should have left this damn hat behind when I left Vegas, but it's been with me every step of the way since I started on the circuit; hell, it's been with me even years before that. Regardless of the fact that it's nothing but a reminder of the future that I no longer have in front of me, this damn thing has too much mileage with me and memories to go along with it for me to just throw it away.

  "She did come to you. I know it. She had the fires of hell lighting her ass; there's no way that she would leave the PieHole--early, no less--and just go home." Quinn's voice breaks through my thoughts, bringing my attention back to her.

  "Are you askin' me that or tellin' me?"

  "Oh, shut up," she snaps, and I lose control of my lips, a smirk replacing my normal stoic mask of indifference. "Tell me what you did, Mav."

  "For the last time, Quinny, what makes you think that I did anything?"

  "Because!" she screams. "I know her and she wouldn't do anything without analyzing it from every angle. Leighton doesn't run off the handle, but you . . . it's your MO to do just that--run off all half-cocked and without thought of the consequences."

  "Damn, Quinn, tell me how you really feel, darlin'."

  Her opinion of me shouldn't bother me, but fuck if it does. She's wrong, but she's also so very right. Look at me, a few weeks back and already the hard shell of indifference that I've been able to wear like a shield is cracking. She's not going to let this go, and even though she's the last person I want to talk about that night with, if anyone knows what would be going through Leighton's mind, it would be my sister.

  "Look, don't tell me what happened, okay? It's pretty dang clear neither of you wants to talk about it, but Maverick, I'm begging you not to do this to her. I don't feel like fixing the mess you stir up when you leave again."

  "How many times do I need to tell you that I'm not going anywhere?"

  She looks around
, taking in Dixon's now mucked stall, before giving me a sad look of resignation. "Look at you, Mav. You've been back for two weeks and not once have you made the move to make this stay something of permanence. Your duffel bag is still packed. You wear it, wash it, and repack it. You haven't been down to the shop. Clay says, while you might keep busy, you damn sure aren't doing anything but keeping yourself busy with bullshit work around here that's better left for the hands. You're here, but you aren't. Hell, you might as well just be a new hired on the ranch. Except at least those guys actually want to be here. Drew even said all you do is the grunt work. The bullshit not even the young bucks eager to learn want to touch."

  "Now, Quinn--"

  She puts her hand up, shaking her head. "You say you aren't leaving, but everything you've done so far since Dad's funeral screams temporary. You didn't even wait for the ink to dry on his will before you were talking to Clay about a buyout."

  "Don't bring him up, Quinn."

  "Someone has to. Look, I get it, you want nothin' to do with him, but, Mav, he isn't Davis Ranch. Not anymore. The ranch is us. Clay, me, and you."

  "How did we get on this shit?"

  "Well, you won't talk about Leigh, so might as well just move right on to some more bullshit centered on you."

  "Fuck, Quinn! I didn't talk to Clay about a buyout because I was leavin'. I just don't want anything that has to do with the old man."

  "I get it. I really do. It's about time you accepted that what happened in the past sucked, but it's over. Clay and I both had our own challenges in gettin' over the hurt that Dad put on us, but he wasn't the same man that pushed you away from us. Not at the end, anyways."

  Her words tip the aggravation over our conversation to the tipping point, and before I can control the burst of anger that fires through my system, I let out a string of profanity that would make a sailor proud before punching my fist through the drywall.

  "You better know how to fix that, Maverick Davis!"

  Fists now balled on my hips, I take a few heaving breaths before turning toward the angry voice shouting at me and waving. "I'll see to it, Drew."

  "You do that, son," he calls back before clicking at his colt, Stoner, and taking off at a quick gallop.

  "I don't know how to talk to you, Mav." Quinn's voice is quieter now, and the break I hear in it cuts me to the quick more than her loudest shout. "I just know you're hurting. You were hurting before you came back, and now it's not just you that's fighting something inside of yourself."

  "Come here, Quinn," I demand softly and open my arms.

  She runs to me without pause, and suddenly she's just my kid sister again, not the fiery, feisty woman standing before me a moment ago demanding answers. "You're gross," she mumbles against my sweat-drenched shirt.

  "Yeah, darlin'."

  "Please talk to me," she begs, her slim arms tightening around my torso as she hugs me tighter. "Please."

  I bend down and kiss the top of her head. With a sigh, I give in and tell her what I know she wants to hear. "I'm just goin' through some shit, Quinn. I'm not goin' anywhere, I promise, but I also don't know what to do now that I'm back. I don't want to run the ranch, and Clay knows that. The horses--that was Clay and Dad's thing. Not mine. I'm keepin' myself busy, but I'm also tryin' to figure out what to do with myself now that my rodeo career is over."

  "You always loved the horses, Maverick." She leans back and looks up into my eyes.

  "I loved ridin' them, darlin', but all the bullshit that comes with breedin' the next Thoroughbred champion, that wasn't me. The old man wanted me to be part of that and I guess that's part of why I have no interest."

  "There's more to the ranch than that and you know it, Mav."

  "Yeah, sweetheart, and none of that is of interest to me. Clay has it handled. Drew runs this place like a well-oiled machine. I'm just pickin' up the slack until he hires another hand."

  "And then what?"

  "No clue, darlin'. Guess we can figure out that together. I might not want to take an active role in the current workings here, but I'm not going to leave."

  "What about a new role here?"

  She steps out of my hold and I drop my arms. She dusts some hay off my shirt and gives me a smirk. "You don't want anything to do with the old Davis ranch, but I think we all agree--Clay will too--that it's a new era for the ranch. Dad didn't want to branch out from breeding the prize winners. He was so stuck in his ways. I think that, with your help, Clay can finally make the changes that he's wanted to do for a long damn time."

  "First I'm hearin' of this, Quinn."

  "Reckoned as much. Look, don't write off the ranch because of the bullshit you're still holding on to as some sort of armor. I'll let Clay know that we all need to sit down and have a family meeting. He's down at the shop doing payroll, but we'll figure out something. Let's go to Bucky's in town. A little business over the best damn barbeque in town is just what the doctor ordered."

  I open my mouth, but she interrupts me before I can agree.

  "Keep an open mind, big brother. You might not want to hear it, but it's time we talked about what happened with Dad after you left."

  "Not talkin' about him."

  "I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

  "Just leave it."

  She shakes her head, her long black ponytail whipping over her shoulder. "The last thing you need is for me to 'just leave it,' but I'll tell you what . . . I'll put off talk about Dad for a little while, not forever, but you're going to have to tell me why my best friend is actin' like an angry bull."

  Motherfucker.

  She's got me and she knows it, if her raised brow and smirk are any things to go by. There is only one thing that would get me to talk about that night, and if it means I can put off the talk I have no interest in having, that would be it.

  "We slept together, okay? In the end, she ran out on me so I'm not sure why she's actin' like the wounded party here. Nothin' else you need to know."

  Her jaw drops before I've finished speaking, and I swear it looks like her eyes might bug out of her head. She looks like a frog that had its air supply cut off for too long. Wide-eyed and gaping.

  "You . . . you did what?" she gasps softly.

  "You wanted to know what happened. We slept together. Happy now?"

  "You slept together?" Her mouth is still hanging open like a puppy dog in dire need of some cool water.

  "Jesus, Quinn. Don't tell me you need more details, because that's not happening. I don't know what she's pissed about. It happened and we're both grown adults. She snuck out while I was sleeping and she's been ignoring me ever since, so I would guess she wants nothing further to do with me. That's all of it." Just the thought burns my gut. She's running scared, I just know it. No fuckin' way she isn't, after what I felt between us that night.

  "She's been ignoring you?"

  "Are you going to repeat everything I say?"

  "She snuck out while you were sleeping?"

  "I guess you are," I deadpan, picking up the pitchfork again before walking around her to put it back in the tool room.

  "Holy shit," she finally whispers after a long silence.

  I shake my head, hanging the pitchfork back up with the others, and make my way to the tack room. I make a note for the ranch hand that took Dixon out earlier that his stall is ready for him after he's done for the day.

  "You . . . she . . . finally. Oh, my God! What does this mean?" Quinn calls out to me.

  I toss the pen down after making the list of what he and Dixon still need before leaving the room and planting myself in front of my sister.

  "Holy shit! Did you guys talk? I mean, this is pretty big--for her, at least; I don't know about you. You're probably used to this kind of thing, but not Leighton. Oh, my God. I can't believe she didn't tell me."

  "Don't you think that maybe she didn't say anything because, like me, this is a weird as hell chat to be having with my sister?" I ignore her jab about me being used to this. Little does she know
how wrong she is.

  "WEIRD?! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to have this chat?"

  I take a step back, and with a laugh, hold my hands up. "Did the devil just jump in your body? You sound like you're about two seconds from your head spinning on your shoulders."

  "Don't act like a smart-ass now, bucko! This changes everything." She starts mumbling some gibberish under her breath, and I can't help the smile that grows as she starts throwing her hands up between words of nonsense.

  "Seriously, little sister, I think you should just drop it. This changes nothing."

  "Delusional. Both of you. Idiots, I swear. That girl . . ." She pauses in the midst of her rant and looks at me with wide green eyes that seem to know more than she should. "You really have no clue, do you?"

  "Yeah, darlin', I'm pretty sure that's correct since you're makin' no sense."

  Quinn sighs and plops down on a bale of hay. "Okay, big brother. I'm about to go against every written rule in the best-friend bible right now, but I feel like that is completely acceptable to clue you in here. Lord knows one day, maybe after the birth of your first child, she will forgive me for this."

  "Uh, who's having a baby?"

  "You are . . . well, maybe. If we can get your head out of your ass, that is. And, of course, you're going to have to grovel and shit, but this hypothetical baby has just been waiting to be born and I will not let you two keep my future niece from me."

  "What the hell are you goin' on about?"

  "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this little princess? No, of course you don't. Completely. Clueless."

  "Seriously, Quinn. Who is having a baby?"

  "No one!" she screams, looking just about as crazy as she sounds.

  "Do you need some water? Maybe you should sit down for a little while, hell-raiser. I think the heat's gettin' to you."

  She looks around before pointing up to one of the many vents in the ceiling of the barn.

  "This place has air-conditioning, Mav."

  "Right. Okay? So you're normally crazy. Got it."

  "I'm not crazy!"

  "You also aren't sane, darlin'. You're talkin' some crazy shit."

  "Now you listen here, Maverick, and you listen real good. I don't want to know what happened that night. I know enough and what I know explains oh so much. For as long as she's been alive, Leigh's only wanted one thing. You. Of course, you put a mighty big wrench in those dreams before you left town, but not once did she give those dreams up. Sure, she might have tried breaking all the chains that connected her heart to yours, but when those chains proved their unbreakable strength, she was forced to build a wall around her heart and climb over it. Sealing it away from everyone else while that damn heart continued to remain tied to you. Even after all these years, I know that like I know the sky is blue and the grass is green."