Page 61 of August 20

He shrugged, securing the milk in the bag on his bike. She handed him the pomegranate.

"Last year, I introduced Skye to pomegranates." She smiled. "She loves to sit and pick each juicy bead off to eat. It entertains her for a long time. When she finishes, her fingers and mouth are stained red."

He stared at her. She sobered, recognizing when he felt left out of the experiences.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He cupped her face and shook his head. She pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand. Maverick had to hide a lot of pain.

She wished he could talk long enough to explain everything to her. There must be something doctors could do to make talking more comfortable for him.

He kissed her forehead and then got on his motorcycle. She climbed up behind him—much more graceful than before and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He rode away from the store. Instead of turning to go back home, he went up a side street. She recognized the pool house before she spotted the Havlin Motorcycle Parts shop.

Instead of going around the back of the building to where the clubhouse entrance was located, Maverick parked in front.

He rubbed her calf. She slid off the seat and adjusted her jeans. The vibration of the seat made her ass numb.

"Hang out here or come in." He looked down the street. "I'll be out—" He raised his arm and coughed into his forearm.

Used to the fits that would start when he talked, she waited for his coughing to stop.

He held up his hand, spread his fingers, and mouthed, "Minutes."

Something monumental passed between them. She studied him, making sure she understood what he was telling her.

"I can stay out here?" she whispered. "Alone?"

He nodded.

"You'll be gone for five minutes?" She looked around, trying to hide her surprise.

He nodded again.

She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly. Her mind threw ideas at her faster than she could understand. She could run, yell, or walk away.

He tipped her chin, leaned down, and kissed her. She patted the front of his vest as if to assure him everything was okay, when inside, she trembled.

Maverick straightened, pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket, and handed it to her. "Coffee shop." He pointed. "Two doors down." He coughed, backing away from her.

He walked through the doorway to the parts shop. She stared after him, wondering if she was living a dream. Wasn't she still his hostage?

First, he took her into the store and released her hand. Now, he'd left her alone on the sidewalk and told her to get a coffee while out of sight of him.

Dio strolled out of the building, lit a cigarette, and lifted his chin at Brooke. "Mornin'."

"Morning." She slipped the money into her pocket and walked in the direction Maverick had suggested.

Halfway there, she looked over her shoulder. Dio still stood on the sidewalk. Was he watching her? Had Maverick told him to follow her?

She arrived at a small shop called Whale's Tail Coffee. Driftwood dangling from a fishing line on the door handle announced her arrival.

A woman not much older than Brooke looked up from behind the counter and smiled. Unused to being around people, especially females, Brooke inhaled deeply, suddenly desperate for a cup of coffee that she should've had two hours ago when she got Skye up for school.

The woman set a tray of donuts into the glass enclosure in front. "Can I help you?"

"Yes." She stepped forward. "I'd love an Americana with milk and sugar."

---