21

Bethany

That night, I stared at an empty binder.

Maverick said the new operations manual would be the beginning of the new Frolicking Moose, and I believed him. It was the place where we made coffee-tinged magic happen. Where profitability put more money into my bank account, and that money brought me a certificate to support my sisters and sell real estate.

But executing that new coffee shop required energy and time that the girls had been taking up.

Daily trips to the library, grocery runs, meal coordination, and the stress of living with two other people who suddenly saw me as a mother figure. Ellie still didn’t even seem sure that she liked me, which made it hard to force her to sweep and do her laundry. Two weeks of living with them had made it abundantly clear that neither of them had really been taught how to clean.

Putting together this stupid operations manual had forced me to see exactly what was going on in the shop. To intimately face the failure of Dad’s attention to detail. To stare down every speck and spot to which I’d been turning a blind, overwhelmed eye.

For every process I knew about the shop, more questions popped up that I was clueless about. Maverick combed through Dad’s paperwork to get clues when we didn’t know answers. Called vendors. Even contacted Dad’s most loyal customers. And he constantly had decisions for me to make. All of that meant the operations manual had inched forward like a broken slug.

But now it loomed in front of me.

Everything I wanted seemed to lie on the other side of this. We couldn’t truly improve until we’d swept our way through every part of this store, put in an efficient process, and documented it.

My brain hurt just thinking about it.

Jim’s expression ran through my mind, tugging at an already-weak system. The wariness of his gaze. The utter lack of caring. I couldn’t decide which was worse: that he’d left the girls willingly for the summer, or that he’d figured me out so quickly.

This wasn’t just a goal. This was their lives. This was Ellie and Lizbeth facing down the ugly Jim monster.

Court rooms.

Custody battles.

It was about more than just winning. We had to destroy his ability to ever get them back. And I had to do it before the end of the summer, a mere two months away.

With Ellie and Lizbeth upstairs reading Ellie’s favorite horror story out loud, I opened my computer. The shop was closed and quiet. I’d changed into a loose pair of sweatpants, flip-flops, and an old college T-shirt. My hair perched on top of my head in a messy bun. I liked the feel of Dad’s stuff around me as I pulled up the operations manual documents. With one last, determined look at the machines behind the counter, I pulled up my first document.

Time to get truly serious.

When I started to type, a desperate punch of energy hit me. All the things I needed to figure out came together slowly. Emptying my thoughts onto the page made it much easier to think this operations manual through.

For the next two hours, the systems of running a coffee shop poured out of me. Night descended fully. Traffic outside slowed. I scrounged in the fridge for a diet pop, then sipped it to make it last while I typed, and typed, and typed.

Sometime around midnight, I hopped myself up on two servings of iced chai. At one point, I made a cup of coffee, taking notes on every single step. Snapped pictures of the espresso machine and uploaded them. Created a chart with details on different types of roasts and how they tasted based on what Dad used to say. (No way was I going to drink them.)

One o’clock in the morning closed in.

In the midst of everything, I drafted an even longer list of ways to clean the shop up and increase our profits. Stop stocking those gross scones, for one, and introduce cupcakes. Just because I didn’t like sugar didn’t mean I shouldn’t sell it. This was America. Everyone else liked sugar way too much.

Eventually, I moved to the biggest table at the front of the store to allow myself space to stretch out. My fingers ached. A cup of green tea kept me up, though my eyes burned like sandpaper.

Two o’clock came and went.

Somewhere around 3:15, my bleary eyes felt like I’d been blowing smoke in them for days. I’d have to be up soon to prep the store for the morning commuters. I thought of an hourlong nap but turned back to my computer with a jaw-popping yawn. Only a few procedures away from finishing.

It would be a yoga pants and comfy bra kind of day.

The feeling of a heavy hand on my shoulder startled me from a dream. Dancing coffee beans had been trying to throw broken pieces of a coffee mug at me. They’d laughed whenever I fought back, and then turned into money. The moment I’d touched the money, it disappeared.

“Bethany?”

Groggy, I straightened.

Dim, overhead lights felt painfully bright to my eyes. Those definitely weren’t my attic bedroom lights. Understanding dawned slowly. I’d fallen asleep working at my computer. I jerked fully awake with a gasp.

“Whoa there,” came a deep rumble. “Everything okay?”

Maverick crouched next to the table. The world was still dark, the shop quiet. A faint blush lingered on the distant horizon. The clock said 4:15. It would be full light soon enough, and I was already fifteen minutes late for prepping.

“Fine.” My voice croaked. “I’m . . . I’m fine.”

The puzzle pieces slowly slid together. Vaguely, I remembered a long, long blink that must have turned into a nap.

Maverick slipped into the chair next to me, one arm across the back of my chair. He wore a metal running leg. Sweat glistened in a light sheen over his face and neck. I forced myself to look away, assaulted by butterflies. The man looked like a Viking god without eyes brightened by a run. Now he was otherworldly.

He motioned toward my laptop with a wry tilt of his head.

“Working late or up early?”

I pushed the hair out of my eyes. “Both.”

My thoughts lay heavy and sluggish. It would be a bear of a day trying to stay awake.

He put a hand on the back of my neck. The comforting warmth sent an electric zip under my skin, melting me into a puddle. I turned to face him. All the hours of caffeine, fueled by desperation, crashed around me. I’d finished a hard thing.

But now the terror had settled in.

“Mav,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

His inquisitive expression softened.

“It’s going to be all right, Bethany. Everything will get done. We’ll turn this place around so you have profit and can pay your debts at the same time.”

“It’s so much.”

“You’re not just talking about the shop.”

“No. It’s more than just the shop. Of course, I’ll throw my all into saving the girls from their father. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove they belong here. But then what? Then I have to mother them. I have to be something I’m not. Something I’ve never seen before. Mama . . . she tried, but . . . she couldn’t. At least not well.” A half-sob choked me. “She messed all of us up. What if I do the same thing?”

Until I’d spoken the words, I’d had no idea the fears were even there. They’d been dammed back by my determination to finish this stupid manual. I buried my face in my hands.

“Sounds like you had a tough relationship with her,” he murmured. He hadn’t moved his hand off my neck, and I was glad. It centered me. No makeup. Hopped up on caffeine and drowning in sweats. He was a saint for not running as far as his prosthetic would take him.

“Mama and I were . . . complicated.”

Maverick’s expression softened. His breathing evened out. He waited, gaze soft with curiosity when I let my hands fall. His thumb rubbed a circle on my skin, setting it aflame.

“My parents divorced when I was seven. I lived with Mama at first, but mostly because she filed while he was on a deployment. She took me and ran without a word.”

He winced. I bit my bottom lip, grounded by the pressure, and silently agreed. It had been a cowardly thing to do. Their marriage hadn’t been abusive or lackluster. Dad had tried hard, but Mama had itchy feet. She’d never really thought she’d stay when she married him, but she wanted to see if she had it in her.

She didn’t.

“Life with her was just . . . too unstable. She flailed around, trying to figure out what was next. Find something. Her emotions swung on a pendulum. We lived out of her car, occasionally stopping at seedy hotels. She’d disappear at night and come back in the morning without explanation. Then we’d leave for another small town.

“It wasn’t healthy for me, and I missed Dad. So, one day, while she was out, I found a payphone and called Pappa. Dad’s father. I just . . . I missed them. I wanted to know if Dad was still safe on the deployment or would be home soon. Pappa sounded so scared, so relieved to hear my voice. I remember thinking that something was wrong.

“From there, I promised to keep calling and at least let them know I was okay. He asked me where I was, but I didn’t know. He told me to tell him what was around me. I remember reading license plates and hotel names and a restaurant. That’s when I realized Mama had lied. She’d told me Dad wanted me to go with her for a while. But she hadn’t told him anything. Just emptied the bank account and disappeared, having her lawyer send the divorce papers to him on deployment.”

Maverick whistled low under his breath.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but Pappa was trying to track me down. Dad came home early to find me when they realized I was just . . . gone. One day, Dad showed up while I was sleeping in the car, alone.”

My voice felt far away as I recalled that night. The memories blurred, smudging like a dark blue sky seen through filthy car windows.

The seat had smelled like rubbing alcohol and cigarette ashes, even though Mama didn’t smoke. Vaguely, I recalled her raven-black hair as it spilled over her shoulders. Her thin nose, broad smile, always tinged with something like terror. She’d loved me so much she almost couldn’t handle it.

“What happened?” Maverick asked.

“Dad showed up like some kind of knight. He pulled me out of the car and hugged me for probably ten minutes. I didn’t realize it then, but he was crying. So . . . relieved, I think.”

Maverick’s thumb paused, then resumed, moving in a slow, comforting circle.

“I can’t imagine the terror he felt, not knowing where you were,” he murmured.

“Me either. We waited for Mama to come back. He didn’t let go of me the whole time. I was so relieved to see him, I cried for almost an hour. It was five hours later, at five in the morning, when she returned. They fought. Mama screamed, but she didn’t stop him from taking me. I think she wanted me to go, but she didn’t want to admit it.”

Maverick watched me carefully now, showing nothing but genuine interest. Perhaps a little surprise. My mind churned for a moment. Did I want him to know all of this? No.

But maybe, yes.

Because who else did?

No one alive. Because my team had died.

“How did you feel?” he asked.

“Sad, but relieved. Dad didn’t leave my sight for a week. I wouldn’t get in any car for over a month. I desperately missed Mama. Sometimes I woke up crying at night. At the same time, I never wanted to see her again. For some reason, the thought of her just made me angry and sad.”

The battle of emotions in my little body had almost torn me apart. Missing Mom, but wishing for Dad. It was like I had no place to belong for a while. Floating in an in-between, trying to find purchase. Eventually, I settled into a routine with Dad, and then he became my world.

Maverick leaned back, his fingers resting along the vertebrae at the top of my spine. My skin tingled all the way down my back.

“Your mom recovered enough to marry Jim, it sounds like.”

“Yes. Then had Lizbeth a few months later.”

He quirked one eyebrow in question.

I shrugged. “No, Mama didn’t love Jim. Jim gave her a safe place and steady food. She kept things running in the house while he worked the fields. She didn’t seem bothered by the hints of darkness in him.”

Maverick tightened his fingers, pressing them into my skin. But it didn’t hurt. It felt more like a possessive caress.

“Did he ever hurt you when you visited?”

“No.”

His subtle grip relaxed.

“He never said much, not even to Lizbeth or Ellie. Lizbeth always tried. Ellie ignored him. He ignored her. Mama made up for everything Jim wasn’t. She was like a spirit with nowhere to wander.” Unable to stop now, I launched into the heart of the matter. “I was so jealous of Lizbeth and Ellie. They had her all the time in person. She laughed with them. Was carefree with them. When I had lived with her, everything had been so stressful. Minute to minute. Terrifying.”

“Sounds like she was doing the best she could.”

His compassion tugged at my heart. Only after her death was I better able to understand that. Her parents had died, and she had no siblings. There was a druggie aunt somewhere in Florida and a distant uncle who had cut ties and moved across the country. Neither came to her funeral.

“She did,” I said softly.

“What happened with your dad and his heart attack?” he finally asked, his expression puzzled, as if he wanted to put something together.

“I came home for a weekend visit from college last fall, and he was sitting outside in the canoe, hunched over. When I got to his side, he could barely breathe. I called an ambulance. A helicopter came to take him to the hospital in Jackson City. He died in the middle of the ride.”

“You clearly adored your father.” A hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Considering what you’re doing for his legacy.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. Mama I could talk about all day. I’d resigned myself to her death years ago. But Dad?

I still couldn’t yield.

“Life was so much better with Dad and Pappa. Between the two of them, I had stability and safety. They were my team. I think . . . I think I’ve been chasing it ever since,” I added quietly.

He tilted his head back, looking outside. The span of silence allowed me to collect my frazzled, scattered thoughts. For half a second, this all felt like a huge mistake. He hadn’t asked for this. He was my business mentor. A coach. Sometimes, he felt more like a boss . . . but most of the time he felt like my friend. I’d just vomited my past all over him like a sick toddler.

That was a friend thing, right?

Maverick’s hand turned into an arm, and before I knew what was happening, he’d pulled me into him. All space between us evaporated, and so did the air in my lungs. The feeling of his body against mine was the first steady anchor I’d felt in the last eight months. I quickly curled into the proffered warmth with a sniffle, tucking my head under his chin.

“Bethany, I . . .” He trailed off, unable to complete his thought. His loss of words soothed my prickly heart.

“I know.”

“This seems daunting.” He tightened his hold, which was already encompassing. “Straightening up this business and taking on two girls who need you, but it’s not more than you can handle. And you aren’t alone. You have a team again. This is all going to work. I promise. I can see it in my mind, and I’ve never lost when I’ve bet on my own ideas. We’ll make sure you can prove yourself to a judge before the end of summer.”

I forced myself to lean back and meet his gaze. He meant it—I could tell. His certainty, the logical way he approached each problem, convinced me. My body sank shamelessly closer to him.

“You really believe that.”

“Really.”

My eyes dropped to his lips. The next thing I knew was the searing heat of his lips on mine. All the blood left my body, replaced with fire. Maverick’s grip tightened on my arms, crushing me against him. My heart beat an uncertain, eager staccato.

He tore away. “Bethany—”

I closed my eyes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Never kiss a business consultant! “I’m sorry, I—”

A hand slid up the side of my face until he palmed my cheek with a calloused hand. Seconds later, another kiss stole my breath. This one was soft. Gentle. Perhaps a little wary. It trapped me on this side of magic. I leaned into him until there was no more space in my head.

Nothing but him.

His fingers ran through my hair, rubbing my scalp. The scent of pine filled the air. I wanted to swim in it. In him. To pull this Viking’s arms around me and sink into an eternity. He pulled away slowly, our foreheads pressed together.

“Don’t apologize.” He ran a thumb over my cheekbone. “Not for that. Not for what you told me. But I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you in a vulnerable moment.”

My eyes opened and locked on his. As surely as he sat before me, I knew I’d regret this later. When I couldn’t stop staring at him. When he went back to business mode.

When he left.

But for the love, I couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t see anything but him in that moment. Hear anything but the deep rumble of his early-morning voice. Couldn’t help but die a little in the light of his golden eyes. Absorb every molecule of heat from his touch. Like a woman locked in ice, about to meet fire.

“Are you taking advantage of a vulnerable moment?” I whispered.

“Not on purpose.” His breath caressed my cheek with a slight smile. Sweet mint, as potent as his kiss. “I’ve wanted it for a while.”

“Me too. But what do we do now?”

His lips parted, but no sound came out. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

My heart bounced around my rib cage like it wanted to fly free. If I strapped him down, would he just disappear? Was it even fair of me to ask this question so soon? We were supposed to be two professionals saving a store. Not two hearts trying to save each other.

“Why don’t we just . . . let it be whatever it is for now,” I said, pressing my hand to his chest. A shiver moved through him.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“No . . . rules. No . . .”

“Expectations?”

“Not yet.”

Of course, I’d build expectations. I’d already fallen hard for him. Already longed to breathe him in and never let him go. But it would be worse to hold him at arm’s length and never know what we could have had. Broken hearts mended. I knew that by experience.

He was a minimalist. An emotional runner. Commitment, on some level, seemed to frighten him. Why else would he run away from whatever he’d left?

In order to have him, I had to put away all expectations.

“Bethany, I will leave. I won’t stay here and—”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

“And you still want to let this be?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“There’s no way to stop yourself from creating unconscious expectations, and that’s a breeding ground for pain and disappointment. This doesn’t sound wise.”

“I know.”

He pulled back to study me. “Then why are you doing this? I don’t want to hurt you. To get attached and then leave? It’s . . . heartless.”

A thundercloud overtook my mind. I scooted back a little. What if I had read this all wrong from the beginning?

“Are you not interested?”

His hands tightened around my arms. “Of course I’m interested. But I’m not looking for commitment. What if you feel something and . . . and I break your heart?”

“Then that will be my problem. It will suck if you leave, but not as much as never knowing, right?”

Not as much as never having this. Besides, people had been loving and leaving me my whole life. This was a world I knew very well.

Maverick’s troubled expression only deepened. “Maybe,” he finally said. “No expectations? I leave whenever I leave, and you won’t hate me for it?”

I nodded once, dizzy with the movement. One day, I would hate myself for this. But right now, I couldn’t see that day. I saw only this one.

“You’re worth it,” I whispered.

All the space between us vanished as he kissed me senseless again. I left behind the loneliness of my life to fade into the unexpected heat of his kiss.

No matter how much it would hurt later, it was already worth it.

Right now.