A Thousand Yesses (10 page)

Celia’s
heart went out to her. She knew that Marianna thrived on routine and structure,
and it was hard for her not having her mom and Maverick nearby.

Celia
kept checking her phone. Finally, she grew impatient, and shot a quick text to
Maverick.

How
are things?

Ten
minutes later, a response beeped on her phone.

They
think she had a stroke.
Celia
felt her stomach clench, even though she was fully anticipating something like
that.
They’re running some tests now. How are you two?

Fine.
We’re watching The Little Mermaid.

Good.
Thanks, Celia. She goes to bed early, and likes a story before bed. I have the
books on the bedside table we like to read.

Tears
stung her eyes as she replied.
Okay. Got it.

Why
did she have to fall more in love with him? She hadn’t thought it possible. And
somehow, sitting here on the couch, watching the movies
he
watched with
his sister, the edge of the blanket
his
mom made, sitting right here
where he
lived
made her longing for him intensify. She wanted this.
All of this.
The familiar. The routine. The home.

Maverick.

Not
having grown up with a family, Celia had bounced from foster home to foster
home as a child. Meeting Rodney and Maverick had marked the first time she’d
established friendships that lasted. They meant everything to her. She wanted
what he took so much for granted – the stability, comfort, and warmth of
a loving home. So many people wanted to go off on their own, establish their
independence. She’d had that her whole life.

As
the movie ended, Marianna reached out for her hand. “Will you read from the
Blue
Fairy Book
tonight?” she asked. “That’s the one Maverick reads.”

Celia
nodded, and swallowed against the lump in her throat.

A
short time later she sat in the chair in Marianna’s room, an overstuffed chair
in the corner, hidden in the darkest of recesses.

“If
Maverick’s home, he sits there,” she told Celia. And that was all that Celia
needed. She knew that Marianna would feel better with her presence as she
drifted off to sleep. And Celia loved knowing she was sitting where Maverick
often sat. She’d read
Rumpelstiltskin
,
and hugged Marianna goodnight. Although Celia could hear Marianna’s light
snores and see the rise and fall of her chest just minutes after she’d pulled
the blanket up over her shoulders, she sat in the chair far longer. She could
almost
feel
him in this chair. It was just like him – large and
comfortable, but sturdy. She wanted to take it home with her. She’d curl up in
it with a book, and pull one of Dottie’s blankets over her lap, and take her
naps here.

Would
he read to her, like he read to Marianna?

Celia
wanted to shake herself. Ever since she’d stepped into his house, it felt as if
she were imbibing the magic of Maverick, and she felt as if she couldn’t stop
herself if she tried. It was like the time he spanked her in Rodney’s basement.
She was powerless to stop herself, completely unable to turn away or say no.
Closing her eyes, she waited for him to return. It was warm and cozy in the
chair, and as she laid her head on her arms, her mind began to wander.

Shane.
She sighed. He was a good man, really he was. He’d been decent to her, and she
felt a fool for not having fallen for him. He was a construction worker,
divorced, several years older than she was. No problem in the looks department,
that was for sure. And phew, but the man could deliver a spanking and some
nice, hot sex. But there was something missing, and she never could put her
finger on it. Though she longed for the real thing, why couldn’t she accept it
when it was offered?

Shane
wasn’t playing. He was fully prepared to be her Dom, and she’d
thought
she’d
been fully prepared to be his submissive. Hell, just the night before he’d
given her a good spanking for talking back to him, and it had all felt right.
He was fair but firm, and she knew that’s what she wanted. And later, he’d
taken her to bed, and tied her with soft restraints to his four-poster bed.
Hot.
But... he was right.

You’re
not mine and you never will be.

But
she couldn’t belong to the one she longed for.

She
started when she heard a key in the lock. It was far darker than it had been
when she’d first sat in the chair. Shivering, she rubbed her arms briskly and
rose from the chair. Damn. She had nodded off without realizing it. Her heart
began to pound when she heard footsteps in the hall. Sure, it was
supposed
to
be Maverick, but what if...

And
then he was there, his massive frame filling the doorway, his face in shadows.

His
voice, low and whispering, made her shiver.

“You
okay, babe?”

She
nodded. “Yeah. I was just sitting with Marianna until she fell asleep. Guess I
dozed off myself.” Tiptoeing across the room, she met him in the hallway, and
began to walk to the kitchen for her bag.

“Why
didn’t you stay?” she asked, as she found her bag in the kitchen and picked it
up. He followed her, as she walked to the living room to retrieve her shrug. “I
could’ve handled Marianna in the morning.”

“Course
you could’ve,” he said. She lifted her shrug and pulled it on. “Why you wearin’
that?”

She
blinked. “I’m going home,” she said.

“The
hell you are. It’s three friggin’ o’clock in the morning.”

Oh
no, he wasn’t. He was so
not
pulling this shit on her now.

“So?”

“
So?
What kind of a jerk do you think I am? You think I’m gonna let you go
driving by yourself at this time of night?”

Don’t
even fucking ask me what kind of a jerk I think you are. You don’t want to know
the answer.

She
sat down on the couch. He was right. She was exhausted, and in no condition to
drive.

“Can
you call your boyfriend?”

She
lifted incredulous eyes to him. “Shane?”

“Yeah.
Shane. The bald guy you brought to the demo.”

“First
of all, he’s not my boyfriend anymore,” she said as her eyes dropped to her
hands. “He broke up with me. Second, I wouldn’t call him at this time of day.
He gets up at like four-thirty because he’s a construction worker.”

“Oh.”
He paused. “Then you’re staying in my place in the basement.”

Oh,
God, Maverick. No. No, don’t do that to me.
It had been hard enough sitting in the chair he sat in,
staying in his home. She would never get over staying in his place. The smell
of him would permeate her senses. The thought of him would enchant her mind.

She
could not,
would
not stay with him.

“No,
thanks,” she said. “I’m going home.”

“No
you’re not.”

“Yes,
I am.”

“No,
you’re
not!”

“Well
what are
you
going to do about that? Spank me into obedience?”

“Don’t
tempt me.”

“You
don’t have the
right!”
she said. She didn’t even know when she’d risen
to her feet, but her finger was pointed at him. Tears threatened to spill. “I
am not your submissive. And yeah, I let you spank me for the demo, but that
meant
nothing
to me,” she lied. Her voice shook. He looked as if she’d
slapped him across the face. Pain flitted across his eyes.

“Fair
enough,” he growled. “I won’t spank you. But I’ll carry you downstairs and put
you to bed if I have to.”

She
glared at him. He glared back. Finally, she sighed. He would. Maverick always
meant what he said. And it
was
three. She’d get up in a few hours and go
home anyway.

“Fine,”
she whispered.

“Good,”
he said, shaking his head. He opened the door in the kitchen that led to the
basement.

“Thanks
for staying with Marianna,” he said.

“No
problem. So what’s up with your mom?”

“She’s
stabilized for now, and we’ll know more in the morning.”

“Good,”
she said. “I’m sorry, Maverick.”

They’d
made it to the bottom of the stairs. He shrugged. “Thanks. It’ll be okay. They
said I did the right thing getting her in right away, and I know it’ll work
out. Right now, I just want to get some shut-eye. I’m exhausted. Marianna treat
you okay?” he asked.

Something
about his calm authority, the way he looked out for everyone, and even his
concern for her, made a lump rise in her throat and her heart beat just a bit
faster than usual.

“Yeah,”
she said, as she put her bag down on the sofa. “She was fine. We watched
The Little Mermaid
.” She smirked up at
him. “She said it was your favorite.”

He
gave her that lopsided grin she loved. “Of course it’s my favorite,” he said.
“You know I’ve always had a thing for mermaids.”

He
said nothing about the red-haired lead. A girl could hope.

He
pointed to a chest in the corner of the room. “Over there’s towels and extra
blankets if you need ‘em.”

She
nodded, as he pulled open a drawer and removed a tee shirt and shorts. He
tossed them to her.

She
raised an eyebrow. “The tee shirt will hit the tops of my toes, Maverick,” she
said. “But thanks.”

“Put
‘em on,” he growled. “I don’t need the vision of you in my bed wearing nothing
but my tee shirt.”

Celia
saluted. “Yes, sir,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He shook his head.

“Night,
Cel. And thanks again.”

He
trotted up the stairs. She stripped out of her clothes, and pulled his tee
shirt on. Then she took his shorts and whipped them across the room.

He
didn’t need the vision, but if she was
gonna
sleep in
his bed, she was
so
going to sleep in just a tee shirt.

She
snorted.
Mermaids her ass.

Celia
sat at the high bar at CTB, nursing her drink with all she had. It had been the
most frustrating week she’d ever had. Every night, she’d gone to Maverick’s,
with the intent of helping out. They
needed
her help. Dottie was barely
on her feet again, and Marianna was a handful. Maverick took as much time off
as he could, and worked from home often, but sometimes he still needed to
leave, and Celia came as often as she could. She cooked, and cleaned, and took
Marianna to get her hair cut. Finally, Maverick had said it was enough, though,
for both of them. He needed to do the demos at the club, and she needed some
free time, too. He’d taken Dottie’s neighbor up on her offer to help, and Celia
caught a bit of a break. Still, she was there often. But she never could get
used to the way her stomach would clench when she heard Maverick pull in the
driveway, or the way his clothes felt beneath her fingers when she folded them,
fresh out of the dryer. He raved about everything she cooked, and ate massive
quantities.

She’d
find herself staring at him when he wasn’t watching.

She
never caught him staring at her.

Their
conversations grew limited, and although he was appreciative of how much she
was helping, he was always distant and never flirty.

“Can
I get you another one, sweetheart?”

Her
date du jour, Lucas, a man she’d met at CTB a few days prior, sat in the high
stool next to her. She looked down at her glass, still half full. What was he
trying to do, get her plastered? Maverick wouldn’t allow her to have more than
two, and certainly wouldn’t push another drink before she’d finished the one
she was drinking. He’d encourage her to slow
down.

She
really
had
to stop comparing them all to Maverick.

“I’m
good, thanks,” she said. He was a nice enough guy, and attractive. Wavy blonde
hair he kept sort of longish, with light brown eyes and scruff on his chin,
though no real beard. He was pleasant. Conversation was entertaining. But, he
couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Normally, she liked to play her cards
straight and get to know a guy a bit before she jumped into bed with him. Two
weeks of playing house with Maverick had her desperate, though.

Lucas
placed a large hand on her leg. “You’d drink another if I told you to,” he
said, and she wasn’t sure if it was a question or command. He was a dominant,
of course – she couldn’t date vanilla anymore if she tried – and he
liked to make his moves.

“You
driving home?” she asked.

“Of
course.”

“Then
yeah. I guess,” she said.

Without
warning, his hand lifted and he slapped the inner part of her thigh. She
started. It wasn’t a hard swat, but enough to get her attention.