Wicked: A Small Town Romance (Love in Lone Star Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Wicked

  Love in Love Star

  Ashley Bostock

  Copyright © 2017 by Ashley Bostock

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are being used fictitiously. Any references to such are entirely coincidental and are used for merely the telling of a fictional story.

  Bella

  Keep your wild, vibrant spirit forever. Don’t ever stop ruling your kingdom of animals. Everything I do is for you!

  Contents

  Author Newsletter

  1. Grace

  2. Maverick

  3. Grace

  4. Maverick

  5. Grace

  6. Maverick

  7. Grace

  8. Maverick

  9. Grace

  10. Maverick

  11. Grace

  12. Maverick

  13. Grace

  14. Maverick

  15. Grace

  16. Maverick

  17. Grace

  18. Maverick

  19. Grace

  20. Maverick

  Epilogue

  Author Newsletter

  Also by Ashley Bostock

  About the Author

  Author Newsletter

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  Chapter One

  Grace

  On any other day in Lone Star, the sun would have been perfect. Welcomed, even. But on this particular Friday afternoon, sweltering heat never looked good on me, especially when I had somewhere to be. The humidity threatened to turn my straight blonde hair into a curly mess and I dreaded the fact that I was most likely getting sweat stains on my new white blouse.

  Thank God, the school week was over. Thank God, summer was not too far away. Two weeks and thirteen hours, to be exact. I could break that down into minutes, but it seemed a little presumptuous, considering the principal of my school could keep us for two whole days after school got out. That was never a good thing.

  If I didn’t have to decorate for my parents’ dinner party, I wouldn’t care about the curly hair or the sweat dripping down my back. But as it was, I was due to be at their place in an hour and it was almost a thirty-minute drive away.

  Yap! Yap! I turned around at the high-pitched sound. Ohhh. A tiny dog. Maybe a Maltese? I couldn’t be sure. What I was sure of was that she was lost. Or homeless. Her white coat looked like she’d been through the ringer, all dusty and grimy. A matted clump of hair stuck out where both her ears flopped against her head. Poor thing.

  I wanted to pick her up. I couldn’t, I didn’t have time. My father would blow a gasket if I was late. They were expecting me to help get everything decorated and set up and he’d chew me out if I wasn’t there on time. It didn’t matter if you were ten or twenty-seven or even thirty, whether you were his kid or not, when Walter Patterson got mad, he wasn’t afraid to let you know.

  “I’m sorry little baby. I can’t help you. Go home.”

  I turned back around, determined to ignore the pup, and it continued to follow me. Oh no. What was I going to do? The dog didn’t even have a collar and the way she looked led me to believe no one was looking for her. It tugged on my heart. I couldn’t ignore her and leave her out here. Even more so because when I stopped, she stopped. When I went, she went.

  “Come here, puppy.”

  I crouched down despite my skirt and heels and held my hand out for the little dog. Her dark little eyes assessed me, debating if I was on the right side of good or bad. She inched closer, sniffed my hand, then stepped back. Yap!

  “Come here. I won’t hurt you.”

  She did the same thing, sniffed me and stepped back. Only this time she didn’t bark. That was a good sign. I wiggled my fingers, hoping she’d come forward one more time and instead, she launched herself onto my legs and chest and I caught myself with the palm of my hand on the sidewalk, stopping myself from toppling over completely.

  Her paws were soaked.

  My white top was now covered with various blotches of brown…err, gray, muddy-type stuff all over the clothes I wasn’t going to change because I didn't have the time. But now what was I going to do? Inevitably, I knew I would be late and that wouldn’t give the apple pies I’d baked enough time to warm and what hell would my father bless me with this time?

  Great. My day couldn’t get any worse

  Or could it? The completely unnecessary roar of a motorcycle bellowed down the street, making my already squeamish insides rattle with something a lot less desirable. I had a good feeling I knew exactly who was driving that damn thing. Much to my dismay, the motorcycle slowed as it got closer to me, the driver not even glancing in my direction as he turned directly in front of where the pooch and I were half sprawled out on the sidewalk. Maverick Carter, one of my older brother’s best friends, slowly guided his metal beast up onto the curb and into the driveway of the house we sat in front of and I knew that my day really couldn’t get worse than this. My father be damned.

  The obtrusive sound echoed out into oblivion as the pup and I watched his every move, as if she too couldn't fathom why something so noisy had to be in the near vicinity of us. Maverick’s leather-covered leg stretched out, the toe of his boot kicking down the bike’s kick stand. Once righted, he swiftly edged himself off the sleek black and chrome bike, and his eyes turned directly to me and my new-found friend.

  Something uncomfortable and intriguing ran through my blood. I took him all in as he stood there watching us. The black, dirty boots and the worn leather, chaps - I think, he wore over his blue jeans and the black vest with its frayed edges and patches. That last one I knew because of the books I read. His face wasn't clean shaven like a man’s should be; slivers of gray and brown hair grew from his chin and along the line of his jaw. His menacing eyes watched me, too. He seemed to be assessing why I was on the ground, my palm scraped from trying to catch myself, my white top dirty and this little no name pup in my lap—well the gentlemanly thing to do would be to offer me help, ask if I was okay, but I didn't think Maverick fell into that category.

  I don't know what category he was in but from all the motorcycle club books I’d read, he definitely wasn't all chocolates and roses. He wore a black cap on his head, a do-rag that looked like a swimm
er’s cap to me, except for the ties at the back. I couldn't fathom why my heart was racing as fast as it was. Probably because he was a little intimidating. Add to that, the fact that I had to be at my parents’ place, well yes, that was why I was a mess.

  “Must be my lucky day. Finding a damsel in distress in my driveway. On her knees, even.”

  I ignored his crude remark.

  “This dog jumped on me,” I said in way of explanation, further inspecting my scraped palm as I tried to regain some sense of balance and order.

  He burst with laughter and I wrinkled my brows at him. Seriously. What was so funny?

  “You got knocked down by that little mutt?”

  “She’s not a mutt. She’s a Maltese, I’m pretty sure. And no. I went down to pet her and she caught me off guard. I fell back-”

  He cut me off, “Where’d you find her?”

  “She started following me. I don't know who she belongs to. Do you?”

  “How the hell would I know?”

  “This is your neighborhood.”

  “Do I look neighborly to you?” He folded his arms over his broad chest and, again, that weird little tremor of something swam through my veins. He sauntered the few steps from where he parked to where I stood clutching the dog.

  I swallowed, “No, actually you don't. You look like a…bad neighbor.”

  “Being neighborly is overrated.”

  Yup. Bad neighbor. It was clear what kind of man he was. The kind who didn't help a female up off the curb. The kind who roared around a small town in a vehicle that could easily be compared to nails on a chalkboard.

  “What are you going to do with the damn thing?” he asked.

  “I don't know. My apartment building doesn't allow pets and I'm going to be late to my parents’ party. Thatcher’s too far away for me to take it there. I still have to change and I have apple pies that are going to be tepid.” I glanced down at the mess of me and the dog. “I need your help. You take the dog.”

  I held the tiny creature out in front of me, her legs running air circles as she tried to get away.

  “Hell no. Stay away from me with that thing.” He turned around and walked up his driveway toward his house.

  I followed. I was desperate.

  “Maverick, please.”

  He turned so swiftly, I almost toppled into him. “It's Cap.”

  “It's Maverick. I’m not calling you by your biker name. Please help me. You know how my dad can get. He’s going to kill me. I was already on a tight schedule and now, I’m in a major time crunch. Plus, I have to change now.”

  His formidable eyes dropped to my blouse, assessing every paw print, every smear of dirt, as if he simply couldn't comprehend the trouble I was in. I felt exposed. Thankfully my top had a scalloped neck instead of being low cut. He would be the man who had no qualms about looking down it. My overly-large breasts were enough of a confidence issue, with the way I couldn’t find tops to fit properly, and men staring I didn't need to add a show with it.

  “Maverick,” I pleaded.

  His eyes met mine and for the first time in my life, standing this close to him—not a stranger as he was my brother’s good friend, yet someone I didn't know well—I noticed how vivid his brown eyes were—whiskey-colored, with pinpricks of gold and an even darker brown mixed into them and they were assessing me, reading into my soul. Something close to attraction brewed inside me.

  He blinked, “How long do you have to be at your dad’s?”

  Too long. “A while. It's a party. I have to set everything up.”

  “My yard is fenced. You can put it back there. I’ll meet you here at ten for you to get it.”

  None of that was going to work. Yet, I couldn't keep the dog at my apartment. There was simply no way. The rules said no pets. What was I going to do at ten once I picked her up? Maybe I could convince him to keep her overnight.

  “Can we meet at 8:30?”

  “No. I have plans. I’ll be here at ten.”

  “I usually go to bed at 9:30 though.”

  Once again Maverick’s head fell back in laughter and it annoyed me. He could be so rude at times.

  “I thought you had a party?”

  “I do. But I’ll be home by eight.”

  He laughed again, “How old are you, Grace?”

  “Twenty-seven. Why does that matter? What are you, forty-two?” The words tumbled out of my mouth. Seriously? Why did I even ask? This initiated conversation and I didn’t want conversation nor did I want to know. Not to mention the time crunch I was in.

  “Thirty-nine. Old to you.”

  Yes. Old to me. Twelve years older than me. I took in his lean body, covered in leather, and how the black shirt beneath his vest showcased the ridges of muscle along his chest – nothing I hadn’t seen before – yet was suddenly noticing in a completely different light. He didn't seem old. He seemed young. Wild. Free. Rough. His face, although covered in stubble, was fresh and free of any wrinkles. Yes, he seemed like a lot of things, but I would never use old to describe him. I didn't say this though. Instead I accepted defeat and held out the dog. It took her a second to smell him and even less than a second before she determined he was a friend. Traitor.

  “Fine. Ten o’clock. Don't be late.”

  “Thank you, Maverick,” he sing-songed behind me.

  “I’ll thank you tonight if you still have her and she’s still alive. Please, get her some water.”

  Once I'd managed to clean up and get to my parents, I did everything that was required of me. I set fourteen table settings, which I'd mimicked from an article out of Country Times Magazine – no table cloth, burgundy napkins with cream colored napkin rings, and matching placeholders on my parents’ rustic oak dining table – it was perfect. For centerpieces, I used short, round vases that were almost a foot in diameter and found the largest roses I could, discarding the stems to let them float in the water. For an extra effect, I added a wide, single birch branch to each vase. Voila.

  I wasn’t staying for dinner. I wasn’t technically invited. I couldn’t mess up the table by adding an odd number of table settings. My parents had still been MIA as I’d quickly hauled all the decorations out of the butler’s pantry and began to decorate. Now, I stood in their expansive kitchen watching Mabel create dinner. She wore a long flowy brown dress that hid her slender figure and she’d put a flower pin in her gray hair. My parents must have invited someone important over for Mabel to put on her pretty dress and matching hairpin!

  Whatever she was creating smelled amazing and even though I wanted to stand by her at the stove and peek, I knew she wouldn’t let me. It was a task that had me breathless. She was amazing. I could decorate but I couldn’t cook like Mabel. I liked it, but my passion was baking. Mabel had worked for my parents since I was four-years-old and for as long as I’ve known her, she’s never brought up her family. If she was getting dolled-up for someone, did that mean she wasn’t married? Mabel wasn’t one to talk a whole lot and I never questioned her. Shame on me.

  “What are doing, Grace? Don’t you have somewhere to be instead of in here watching an old lady cook? I thought you’d be baking for the auction.”

  “I have plenty of time. Besides, I’ve made more apple pies than I can count. I’m not worried.” Lone Star’s annual Founder’s Day Picnic in the Park was a week away and I had been picked as an entrant for their pie auction. The competition allowed for only ten entrants, making it Lone Star’s most-coveted competition. People would bid on a pie and the pie with the highest bid would win the annual ribbon, “Lone Star’s Pie Champion.” Then, the person who bid the highest bid out of all ten pies, got to choose which charity all the raised money would go to.

  “Good luck. I hope your pie gets the highest bid.”

  “Me, too. Do you have family, Mabel?”

  “Of course, child. Why are you asking such a ridiculous question?”

  “It just occurred to me that I’ve known you my whole life and I’ve never known whether y
ou have family. Are you married?”

  “I was a long time ago. My Gerard is in Heaven now. Now, child, don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  Setting thoughts of Mabel and her husband aside, I thought of Maverick and my newly found dog and the hassle of what I was going to do with both of them, especially when all I could think about was going home and getting back to my book. My sweatpants cried out to me from their spot in my drawer and my boobs begged me to toss my bra.

  “No. I found a dog today. My apartment doesn’t allow pets though. I’ve been racking my brain all night trying to come up with a plan for her.”

  “Where is the dog now?”

  “With,” I almost said my friend but that wasn’t accurate. What was Maverick to me? My older brother’s much older best friend. Even though I’ve known him for a long time, I wouldn’t say we were on a completely friendly basis. More than acquaintances but less than best buds. Mabel knew him. I wasn’t sure what her opinion of him was exactly. I decided it was in my best interest not to ask. When I glanced at her standing at the stove, she had her neck turned toward me waiting for my answer. I cleared my throat, “With Maverick Carter.”

  “He’s always been a nice man. The dog can’t stay with him until you’re able to take it to a shelter?”

  “What? A shelter? I can’t do that. I could never do that, Mabel.”

  “Do you have much of a choice?” she asked.

  “Not if I stay in my apartment,” I sighed.

  “Why don’t you see if Maverick will keep the dog. Then you could take care of it there.”

  “What do you mean? Like, go over there and feed it and let it out? That kind of thing?”