Page 71 of Coming Home to Maverick

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “No. You don’t. I’m glad you’re praying Bailey.”

“And reading. I’m learning to trust that things will work out.”

“Maybe I should be doing some more of that.”

“Or at least calling me.”

He nodded and then clucked, and the horse started walking.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Remember this?” The sway of the horse beneath them rocked them closer together.

She laughed. “I remember.”

They circled again, and Maverick pulled her closer. She smiled and enjoyed the energy of their faces close, their mouths ready. His lips were soft and strong. His morning scruff lined his jaw. She eased closer, almost capturing his mouth, and waited. He tipped his head, his lashes lowering. When his lips met hers, she leaned into him. The scruff on his chin tickling her face, his mouth soft, insistent, making love to her in the purest sense. His rhythm matched the horse as they swayed together.

One kiss after another, he spoke to her core. She clung to him, answering with all the love in her heart until she didn’t know where he stopped and she began, until the world seemed to be made for only the two of them.

When they paused, he said only, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Were they gonna be okay? Bailey didn’t know. But one thing she would always know was that Maverick held her heart. He would forever.

Chapter 21

Later that night the campfire crackled, the embers flaring every time someone blew them back to life. Maverick dug through his foil dinner with a plastic fork. “Mama, these get better every year.” He placed a soft piece of stew meat into his mouth. “Mmm.”

“Thank you, son. You know it’s your dad’s recipe.”

“Is it a recipe, though?” Nash laughed. “From what I remember, he tossed a bit of everything in the foil and told us to roll the edges and throw it in the cooler.”

“Sounds like a recipe to me.” Dylan took another bite of his. “Works every time.”

Gracie Faith held a long stick with a hot dog on the end, waving in and out of the flames.

Maverick scooted forward and crouched down beside her. “Let’s see if we can get some of those flames to actually cook your dog.”

He guided her hand closer to the embers at the bottom.

“It’s too hot.” She hid behind him, her small hand resting on his shoulder as the other one stretched out the long stick toward the flames.

“Is that better?” He couldn’t describe the feeling that came over him as he protected her from the fire, but he knew right then he’d do anything for this little munchkin. “Do you want me to do it for you? You can watch from behind me.”

She nodded against his back.

“Happy to oblige, little lady.” He tipped his hat.

She giggled. “You’re funny.”

“Why thank you, ma’am.”

Bailey caught his eye, and he winked. Then he made a big fuss about cooking the perfect hot dog. “You see now, you can’t have any of the skin looking black or dark. I like the ends to be slightly disformed.” He brought the hot dog closer. “You see? Like that.” Her hot dog dripped with the juices that had escaped their home. “In fact, where’s your bun? I think your dinner might be ready.”

Bailey handed her a bun, and she held it open for Maverick.

“There you go. One fully cooked hot dog.”

She ran the few steps back to Bailey. “Look!”

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