Page 102 of Maverick

Eve smiled at us both, but she spoke only to me. “We’d love to get to know you better, but we also understand if you want distance. Just know we’re here if you need us.” Her voice held genuine warmth, her gaze flicking to the toddlers chasing each other. “Our door is always open.”

My heart softened. “Thank you,” I said softly, as I tried to speak for both Maverick and I. “It’s… a lot to process, being your daughter, or that Adam is your grandson. But I appreciate the support. Right now, we love being away from Texas, away from old trouble.”

Kingpin’s gaze slid to Maverick, a hint of grudging respect in his eyes. “You keep her safe, Pig,” he said, using an old insult with no real malice. “If I hear any different, I won’t hesitate to ride up here and whoop your ass, again.”

Maverick stiffened, but a faint smirk tugged his lips. “She’s my wife now, old man. I won’t let her down.”

Kingpin huffed a laugh, then reached out, patting Maverick’s shoulder. “Good. Because if you do, you’ll answer to me. Family is everything.”

His words reminded me of the mob, but I exhaled, relief coursing through me. Maybe, someday we could bridge these bizarre family connections.

Nova joined us with my mother's urn. I felt it was time to spread her ashes, give her a final resting place. The fact that there was someone here who had also loved her in any way, made me smile. Together, Kingpin and I released her ashes into the ocean.

When the others were out of earshot, Kingpin started speaking low. “Your mom, she always loved the ocean. That’s how she got wrapped up in the biker world to begin with. I met her at Bike Week in Daytona. I’d just gotten out of the slammer, and I was hung up on an old flame, if I hadn’t been, maybe I would’ve loved her more, but that’s a story for another day. She rode with me back to Nashville. We didn’t stay together long, but she came back a few times… She worked at my club… well… Maybe one time there will be time to tell you more.”

“I’d love that,” I said, my eyes reaching his that shined with unshed tears.

As dusk fell, Nova sidled up to me, cuddling a sleepy Adam in her arms. “Smutty…. Go, have a honeymoon,” she teased, grin wide. “I’ll watch him tonight. We’re safe here, right? Plenty of MC folks around, no one’s messing with us.”

We hadn’t really planned to, but Maverick spoke up. His hand slid to my waist. “We can head to that B&B farther up the coast,” he murmured in my ear. “Just one night, a few hours of quiet away from Adam’s cries and Nova and Chigger. Think you can handle that, Mrs. Hart?”

A tingle ran through me at the sound of that. “You sure Nova can manage Adam?”

Nova rolled her eyes. “Please, I babysit him all the time. Go be newlyweds for once. You deserve it.”

I gazed at Adam, guilt tugging me about leaving him. But a part of me yearned for a single night of rest and closeness with Maverick. Nova was right, we deserved it. I pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Okay. One night. If anything happens… ”

Nova swatted my arm lightly. “I’ll text you. Relax!” She winked. “Now go. Your husband awaits.”

Chapter 52

Maverick’s grin shone big when he heard me agree to have a honeymoon. He led me to his Harley, which we’d parked near the dunes. I hoisted my dress slightly, laughing at the absurdity, freshly married, riding off on a motorcycle in my gown. He tossed me his helmet. I slipped it on, knowing I probably looked ridiculous.

We roared off, leaving the wedding party behind on the beach. The ocean wind whipped over us, headlights carving a path through the night. My arms wrapped around Maverick’s torso, cheek pressed to his leather clad back. A thrill pulsed in my veins.

This was our future, wild, free, and together.

We arrived at a quaint bed-and-breakfast perched on a rocky cliff overlooking the Atlantic. Fairy lights twinkled around the porch railings, a warm glow beckoning us inside. The owner greeted us with a polite nod, handing over a key to a snug room on the second floor. She barely blinked at my dress or Maverick’s biker attire, as if used to all kinds of visitors.

The room was small but charming, with an iron-framed bed, lace curtains, and a window revealing moonlit waves crashing below. The gentle lull of the ocean echoed through the walls. Maverick set our small overnight bag in the corner, then turned to me, eyes alight with both tenderness and desire.

I exhaled, letting the excitement of the day slip away. “This is nice,” I whispered, stepping closer.

He wrapped his arms around me, the smell of leather and sea salt flooding my senses. “Yeah. Real nice.” He brushed a thumb over my cheek, his voice thick. “My princess. My ol’ lady. My wife.”

My breath hitched. “My husband,” I murmured back, tilting my head for his kiss.

Our lips met, soft at first, then deepening as the weight of every obstacle we’d overcome melted into that moment. He carefully slipped the lace straps from my shoulders, guiding me toward the bed, each movement carrying reverence.

The night stretched on in blissful warmth, me losing myself in Maverick’s kisses, his hands tracing every line of my still-recovering body. But he never once made me feel less than beautiful. A tear slipped down my cheek as he whispered how perfect I was, how grateful he felt. We moved together in a slow dance of rediscovered intimacy, each whisper, each caress a vow of devotion.

But the night turned. Maverick stopped our lovemaking all together. “Lexi, I have to tell you something.”

My heart was in my throat as I worried for more trouble on the horizon. “What is it?”

“This isn’t me. This sweetness. It’s just an act,” Maverick admitted, hanging his head.

“What do you mean?” I croaked, on the verge of tears.

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