Page 20 of The Maverick of the Mountain
She looks at me. “Hank plays Scrabble?”
“In a way. Some people call it cheating, but he loves playing. See?” I gesture with my chin, and Corinne turns.
Hank is already dragging out the box. It’s been a while since we ‘played,’ but I’m hoping this time might turn out a little bit better with another human player.
Corinne turns back around. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Chapter 6
Corinne
Remindme never to play Scrabble with a raccoon.
“You’re up, Hank.”
Maverick glances at me. I know because every time he looks at me, my skin heats up. My pulse pounds. I become acutely aware of every nerve ending in my body because they all fire simultaneously. It’s quite distracting.
“And this time I want a real word out of you.”
Hank runs his paws over his tiles, his nails clicking over the plastic as he lets out a low growl. The little guy doesn’t like being called out.
I glance at Maverick. “What’s the score anyway?”
He smiles, and my heart flutters. You’d think my body would get used to it, but apparently not. Butterflies flap in my stomach and chest, and I turn back to my tiles, more heat spreading through my neck and face.
“Doesn’t matter much, does it?”
I hum. He’s right. Neither of us is going to win. It’s hard when you’re playing with a raccoon who has no concept of the English language and uses all of his tiles.
Speaking of… Hank begins dishing them out. Maverick and I watch on tenterhooks, wondering what combination he’ll come up with this time.
Hank chitters triumphantly after he places the final tile, and Maverick and I groan in unison.
“QZJXKVY? That’s not a word. How do you expect?—”
Hanks flips the board, sending it flying off the table as he scurries off toward the doggie door.
I look at Maverick. He’s laughing, but I’m gobsmacked. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, Hank,” I shout toward the door. “Come back!”
“Don’t apologize, Corinne. Hank’s a diva. He’s just being a poor sport because someone finally called him out.”
“Do you think he’s going to be okay out there?”
I glance toward the window above the sink. The storm’s still raging, but I’m strangely calm, though. I hardly noticed it the entire time we were ‘playing’ Scrabble. I guess Maverick was on to something. Then again, I think it was my proximity to him. There’s something about his presence that I find comforting. Soothing. Like I’ll be well protected and cared for when I’m around him. So far I have. More than I expected or deserved, given the kind of mess I made in his cabin.
“Hank will be fine. He’s got a bed in my workshop. It’s heated too. That raccoon lives like a king. Acts like one, too, as you can see. Impulsive. Tyrannical. A big baby.”
“Well, I do feel bad.”
Maverick reaches over and grabs my arm. “Don’t,” he rasps.
Immediately, my body erupts, goosebumps prickling my arms. I love the way his hand feels on me. The weight of it. The firm grip. There’s a lot of power in that hand, and I wouldn’t mind discovering how it feels elsewhere on my body.
I shouldn’t be feeling like this… but I do. I’ve been trying to logic my way out of my feelings the entire time I’ve been here,but it’s impossible. And when he told me I looked like an angel? My mind damn near exploded. I wanted to grab him by the collar and pull him to my lips, but before I had the chance, he excused himself. And ever since, I feel like he’s been more reserved. Reticent. Until now. It’s the first time he’s touched me, and my body is all on board.
He’s staring at me again. The same way he stared at me in the bathroom. There’s heat in those eyes. Heat beneath his hand. Heat skims across my body and pools between my thighs. God, I want him to kiss me.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that way about anyone. It’s primal. Visceral. Like a part of me has been starved for so long. Though I guess it has. I’ve been so busy with work and other obligations that I’ve hardly had time for a relationship. It’s been so long that I can’t even remember the last time I had a relationship.
