Can't Get Enough (Skyland, #3)(129)

CHAPTER 52





HENDRIX


I have something for you.”

I should be used to hearing those words from Maverick by now. If ever a man was determined to shower a woman with gifts, he is. The flowers arriving wherever I am. The diamond-and-platinum lower grill with my initials that showed up at Mama’s house after I casually mentioned I liked one Beyoncé was rocking. I’ve taken care of myself and others for so long, I almost forgot how it feels for someone else to want to take care of me.

Or as an adult… have I ever really known?

Because sometimes it feels like new emotions were invented for this thing that has blossomed between the two of us. I’m not sure how to name it, and it’s articulated only in the pace of my heart when I think of him. In the hitch of my breath when I first see him. In the thrum of home, home, home beneath every second we’re together. Of course, we’ve said we love each other, but that feels inadequate. Almost cliché. I’ve heard it used so often in the past, but the depth, the care that is developing in our relationship, I’ve rarely seen. Never experienced firsthand.

“What do you have for me?” I ask, resting my bottom on the edge of Daddy’s old desk. We’ve still been working out of Mama’s house for the last week, but Maverick leaves today and I’m heading back to Atlanta next week. Aunt Geneva’s doctor gave her the official all clear a few days ago.

“A gift.” He scoots the office chair closer and pulls me from my perch on the desk down to his lap. “But you don’t have to accept it.”

I lean into his neck, breathing in the clean smell of him, and chuckle.

“When have I ever turned down a gift?”

“This one carries some responsibility,” he says, pulling back to peer into my face. “For real. If you decide you don’t want this, I’ll find another home for it.”

“It needs a home?” My brows draw together, but my smile stays fixed in place. “I think you’re taking ‘diamonds are a girl’s best friend’ too literally.”

“Not diamonds this time.” He laughs, reaching down to caress the unicorn ankle bracelet I can’t seem to make myself remove even if I’m lounging at home in cutoffs and a ratty T-shirt. “You want to see?”

I link our fingers on his chest and nod. “Gimme.”

“Okay.” He leans forward and grabs his phone, typing out a text. “It’s outside.”

“It’s outside?” I slide off his lap and stand. “You better not have gotten me a car, Mav.”

“Oh, you’d turn down a Bentley?”

“Hell, no.” I toss my head back and laugh. “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Well, this is not that.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the office and up the hall. “It’s even better. I mean, if you want to keep it.”

“Why do you keep thinking I won’t want to keep it?”

Before he can answer, a sharp bark pierces the air. I stop, keeping his hand and pulling him up short. He grins over his shoulder at me.

“You didn’t,” I gasp, not sure how I feel about what that bark portends.

“Remember.” He steps close and kisses my forehead. “You don’t have to keep her.”

“Her?”

I walk around him and rush ahead. A guy holding a tiny dog stands in the living room beside a grinning Aunt Geneva.

“Mr. Bell,” he says, stroking the dog’s head. “Got your message to come on in.”

“Thank you.” Maverick walks over and takes the little dog into his arms.

“He’s the cutest thing,” Aunt Geneva purrs, looking lovesick already.

“She,” Maverick and I correct in unison.

Maverick walks closer, not making any move to hand over the Yorkshire terrier.

“You did once tell me a dog would be the closest you’d come to a maternal instinct,” he teases, but watches me closely with lifted brows. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure yet.” I reach out a tentative hand and rub her silky head. The fur is trimmed short, a rich caramel color streaked with dark chocolate. She peers at me over Maverick’s arm, giving me a look that must epitomize what they mean by puppy-dog eyes. My heart turns to a glob and I reach for her.

“You’re the prettiest girl,” I coo, holding her loosely against my chest. Her little paws tap my arm over and over like she hears some rhythm in her head. “You playing the drums for me?”

I laugh when her light taps continue, accompanied by staccato yelps.

“My little drummer girl,” I say with a laugh.

“Yours if you want,” Maverick interjects. “She comes housebroken and with some basic training, but if you decide you don’t want her—”

“I do.” I bury my nose in her clean-smelling fur. “I want her. Thank you, Mav.”

I kiss his cheek and blink away tears. Maverick has given me so many gifts, but this one, a tiny life I’m responsible for, moves me the most. It shows how well he knows me. I love taking care of people. My friends, my family. I have so much love to give, and it would be easy to assume that because I don’t want children, I don’t want the responsibility of caretaking. There’s nothing further from the truth. The chance to be an auntie to Soledad’s and Yasmen’s kids is an honor I’m so grateful for. Being there for my friends however they need me—one of my greatest joys. And being free to devote so much time to take care of my mother in this final stretch of her journey—