Page 40 of Maverick

She beamed, relief flooding her face. “Deal.”

Chapter 22

Lexi’s kitchen was small, Formica countertops, old linoleum floor that peeled at the edges, and cupboards that creaked whenever we opened them. But she had an impressive collection of spices and cooking tools for such a tiny space. I perched on a stool near the counter, watching as she bustled around with an excitement I hadn’t seen since we got shot at in the last motel.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asked, rummaging through the fridge. “I’ve got some frozen chicken, veggies. I can do a stir-fry?”

“Sounds good,” I said, leaning an elbow on the counter. “I’ll eat whatever you whip up. Just don’t poison me.”

She shot me a playful glare. “I’m a better cook than you might think.”

I smirked. “I don’t doubt it. I’m just used to bar food and takeout, so anything homemade is a treat.”

She laughed, pulling out a bag of chicken, a variety of vegetables, and some sauce bottles. Soon, she was chopping onions, peppers, carrots, the rhythmic thunk of the knife oddly soothing. I watched the way her hair fell across her cheek, the curve of her jaw, the grace in her movements. Beneath the exhaustion and tension, there was a woman who knew how to take care of herself, and who found comfort in cooking. A caretaker, even if she pretended she wasn’t.

“You said you love to read,” I said, my gaze flicking to a shelf of romance novels in the corner of the open space. “Gotta say you have quite the collection. Must be hundreds, maybe thousands, of pages about big, tough guys and the women they fall for, huh?”

Her cheeks turned pink as she stirred the chicken in a pan. “Um, yeah, well, it’s my escape. Some people watch reality TV or go clubbing. I read. And I guess… I always liked the idea that the men in those books wouldn’t let anything happen to the heroine, you know? No matter how dangerous the world got, they’d protect her. It was comforting, in a weird way. Not having parents, maybe I wanted to be protected like that.”

I nodded, a pang of guilt hitting me. She’d lost her mother, was nearly killed multiple times, and here I was, a real-life biker with a complicated past, trying to protect her. Did I measure up to those fantasy heroes? Probably not. But I sure as hell was trying.

Telling her I also lost my parents as a child, and I turned to books too, studying to become a cop felt too cheesy. We had so much in common, but I was reluctant to open up. “You never had a boyfriend or anything?” I asked quietly, watching her body language.

She paused, the spatula in hand. “Not really. I mean, I dated guys in college, but it never worked out. They found me too nerdy, too bookish. Or they were intimidated by me wanting to be a lawyer. I don’t know. It’s not like I aim to be some power-hungry lawyer. I just want to help people. And after law school started, I just… didn’t have time. So, no. After that, I somehow landed my dream job, and now that I’ve passed the bar, that job is only going to consume more of my life. The men in my books have been my only consistent relationship.”

I felt a strange protective surge, annoyance at those men who’d brushed her off. “Their loss,” I said, voice firm.

Her eyes flicked up, a soft smile curving her lips. Then she turned back to the stove. “How about you?” she asked. “You said you had an ex… two, actually. Eve and Sky?”

My stomach twisted at their names. Fuck Chigger for telling my business. But if she was opening up, perhaps I could do the same. “Yeah. Eve was my fiancée back in Nashville, before I joined the Road Monsters. We… lost a baby. Things fell apart. She ended up with my president, of all people.”

Lexi frowned, her gaze sympathetic. “I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

I shrugged, forcing the old pain away. “It is what it is. Then there was Sky. Another complicated story. She was Kingpin’s wife, but she wanted out. We ran to Alaska together, had our own heartbreak. She left me for someone else. A mobster. Seems I have a knack for choosing women who prefer men in powerful positions.” The bitterness in my voice surprised me.

She set the spatula down and turned off the burner, stepping closer. “Then… why are you here helping me?”

I met her gaze, unable to look away from those green eyes. “Because you needed it,” I said simply. “Because I can’t let you get killed. And maybe because… I’m not quite as jaded as I pretend to be. Something about you, it’s different.”

Her face colored. “Oh.”

“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” I swallowed. “I told you I was passionate for you. Maybe I’m just a fool, but I can’t ignore that pull.”

She breathed out shakily, then turned back to the stove, fiddling with the pan. “I, um, the stir-fry’s basically done. Let me just get it on plates.”

I smiled softly, letting her have that moment of composure. The fact that she was flustered around me gave me a thrill I hadn’t felt in a long time.

We ended up at her small dining table, a rickety wooden thing that wobbled unless we set a folded napkin under one leg. She’d plated the stir-fry and served it with rice.

“Damn, this smells incredible,” I said, taking a bite of chicken. “You weren’t kidding about being a wonderful cook, princess.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I didn’t get to do it much with law school… but it’s nice to share it with someone.”

I caught the slight tremor in her hand as she lifted her fork. Fear still clung to her, no matter how relaxed we tried to be. My protective instincts flared again.

Over dinner, we talked more about everything and nothing, her law school memories, the time she spent preparing for the bar, how she’d always dreamed of working in criminal defense to help the underprivileged. And how she was stuck at some high-powered firm for now.

I told her about my own dreams once upon a time, about how I’d joined the police force in Columbus as a fresh-faced recruit who believed in justice. “My illusions were shattered when my partner shot an unarmed guy. I attempted to do what was right, but the system ate me alive. That was how I ended up on the road, drifting, eventually crossing paths with the Royal Bastards MC and then the Road Monsters.”

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