Page 40 of Best Part of Me

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Maverick warnsme there may not be showers at the next campground at Zion National Park, so I take advantage of the ones here. They’re not luxurious by any means, but they work. All I need is running water and I’m happy. I wash away the scent of Maverick from my skin, almost regretting it. My body aches in all the best ways, and it’s a reminder of him and our night together.

When I return to the campsite, Maverick has already taken down the tent and loaded the gear into the Jeep. Smoke billows from the no-longer-lit fire, and he looks freshly showered. I’m almost sad about leaving this place. It’s gorgeous here.

“I need to spend a little more time documenting things and getting a few more pictures before we go.”

“Fine with me. I wouldn’t mind if we had to spend another day here.”

He smiles and holds a hand out to me. I tilt my chin at him, lifting a brow. If we were a real couple, holding hands would be nice. Since we’re not, it feels strange for some reason. But Maverick isn’t your typical hand-holding-boyfriend kind of guy, so I know he’s being vulnerable right now.

I slip my hand in his, and he tethers his fingers around mine. It’s difficult to ignore the way my heart squeezes along with it. This is a terrible idea. Sleeping with one another was bad enough, but holding hands feels intimate on a different level.

We walk the same trail we took the night before. It ends at an open field. Tall wheat-looking weeds sway in the breeze, and soaring pine trees surround the campground. Maverick snaps pictures with the fancy camera looped around his neck while I explore further on my own.

When he feels like he’s got enough documentation on the campground to do his job thoroughly, we return to the Jeep and climb inside. It’s too warm for the denim jacket I chose to put on over my tank top so I peel it off and toss it into the back. Maverick is dressed in his trademark black on black. Black T-shirt and distressed black jeans. But he’s got a flannel on over the T-shirt giving off this cozy vibe I’m totally here for. This mountain-man vibe is fucking hot.

“Since we missed dinner, I thought we could stop for a real breakfast?” he says while he backs out of the campsite.

“I think that’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.”

The grin he shoots me sends a thrill running through me. I’m tempted to reach out and hold his hand. Our years of friendship make most things feel easy between us. But our new relationship causes me to second-guess some of my actions.

Is it even a relationship? What would you call a ten-day rendezvous? A fling? A tryst? Is there such a thing as a ten-night stand?

Maybe labeling it is pointless. It’ll be over before we know it.

“Do you care if I choose the music again?” I ask, even though I’m already connecting my phone to his stereo.

“Don’t tell me you had time to make multiple road-trip playlists?”

I fake an eye roll at him. “Of course not. But don’t think I don’t have plenty of other playlists to choose from.”

“That does not surprise me.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in my heart.

I want to tell it tostop it, already. I can’t let my heart get involved in this thing between me and Maverick. It’s purely physical. That’s it.

The catchy music by Lauv plays through the speakers. I turn up the volume before resting back in the seat. Maverick cracks his window, and I catch him tapping his thumb along with the beat against the steering wheel. I can bet a hundred bucks he’s never even heard this song.

For as long as I’ve known him, he’s only ever listened to classic hard rock. He and Jones started a cover band in high school, with him on bass and Jones on drums. They thought they were going to revamp the genre and get kids listening again. Unfortunately, the largest gig they ever played was their senior party, with about two hundred drunk teens singing along to a lineup of Led Zeppelin songs.

Let’s just say it’s a good thing they both decided on day jobs. Jones took business management in college with plans to eventually take over Martin’s Hardware. I suppose he’s now putting that degree to use at The Pines bar. Maverick wanted to travel and got a bachelor’s in marketing. After not having a lot of stability growing up, often being tossed back and forth between his parents and his grandmother, he can’t seem to sit too long.

I don’t know what that’s like. My parents were married up until Mom passed away. They were supportive and involved. It makes sense why Maverick spent a lot of time at our house.

I’ve never thought about him and his job, his inability to commit to one woman or settle down, as much as I find myself thinking about it now. The ten days with me will probably be the longest he’s ever spent with the same woman.

I don’t know if I should be flattered by that or concerned.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Starved.”

His lips curve devilishly, and it makes my face heat.

“We’re almost there.”

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