Page 27 of Maverick

"You lost someone," I say quietly, dropping the menu to the table, and turning my chest toward him. The moment is quiet, intimate. "Who?" It's not my business. I know it isn't. But I'm asking anyway.

He sighs, turning his body to me, and rests his elbow on the table, cocooning us in. "My mom. Not that way. Not cancer. But I understand the loss."

He nods, jaw tight. "It was a long time ago."

"But it doesn't feel that way, does it?"

"I still remember the way her nails felt, running through my hair at bedtime. And the way her skin smelled when she hugged me. I was eight. I remember all of her. Or I used to."

Unable to resist, I rub my thumb over his jaw. "Some of it fades. But you won't lose her completely. I firmly believe that. And it helps to talk about them."

He scowls, searching my face. "Who did you lose?"

"Grandpa. Almost ten years ago."

Sighing, he cups my cheek making us look like some romantic painting, bodies close, hands cupping one another's faces.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Me too."

The silence across the table finally registers, and I turn to find Bree and Nick both looking at us wide eyed.

"Um, hey," Bree says. "You guys need more time to order?"

I pull away, running my hands along my hair nervously. "Sorry. Yeah, um, I just need a second." Staring blankly at the menu, I will my mind to settle, trying to pretend that the most intimate, intense conversation I've ever had with a man didn't just happen.

Nick clears his throat. "Why don't we just order a bunch of stuff and eat family style?"

I nod, relieved, and slap the menu shut, then with more effort than it should have taken, ignore the man next to me and attempt small talk.

"So how's work going, Bree?"

The conversation drifts from work to weekend plans to TV shows. It's easy and comfortable with Bree and Nick.

But Maverick is a quiet wall of heat beside me, nodding or grunting an answer when required, but otherwise seeming to be in his own head. And as much as I enjoy Nick and Bree, and the way they look at each other, I'd be okay if they disappeared and left me alone with Mr. Dark and Broody.

He's my boss, I remind myself for the hundredth time. But it's getting harder and harder to remember that when he keeps showing me the man underneath the suit. The man who understands loss in a profoundly real way. You don't feel that kind of loss without having loved deeply.

I want to curl up in a corner with him, and just talk. To learn about his mother. To learn everything.

But I won't.

Getting closer to the man who could set me back financially is not the smart move, and I'm a very smart woman. I have to be. I'm all Nan has left and she's my priority.

The food arrives, breaking the moment between us. I focus on filling my plate, ignoring the slight tremble in my hands. I'm sitting next to pure temptation, so of course I have the wobbles. It's natural and normal. I don't have to make a big deal out of it.

The conversation flows easily after that, Nick and Bree providing most of the chatter. I find myself relaxing, laughing at their stories. They have this way of arguing with each other that feels warm and gentle. Like they're enjoying themselves, just being together, and the teasing is icing on the cake.

Through it all, I'm acutely aware of Maverick beside me, his presence like a gravitational pull.

As the meal wraps up, I glance at my phone, shocked at how late it is. "I should really get back," I say, reaching for my purse. "I don't want to be too late for Nan."

Nick and Bree exchange a look. "Are you sure you don't want to stay for dessert? I'm craving a little something sweet," Bree says.

Oh, the places my brain takes that. "Oh, well, I don't think…"

"I can give you a ride," Maverick offers, his voice low and smooth.

---