Page 9 of Maverick
I gasped and held my hand to my chest. I started to reply but promptly closed my mouth when I couldn’t think of anything to say. Then opened it again, but… shit. He had me there. I had brought one suitcase devoted entirely to shoes. But there hadn’t been any way around it. I needed multiple pairs of sneakers. My Rag and Bone retro sneakers worked for day-to-day wear, but I couldn’t run in them. So I had to bring my Hokas, which I’d already used twice, thank you very much. And obviously I needed some fancier shoes in case we went somewhere nice. Butwith the weather, I couldn’t predict if they needed to be open or closed-toe, so it was best to bring both. And of course I needed a variety of color options to go with the outfits I’d packed and as well as any outfits I might potentially buy during my time here. I wasn’t a fortune teller so the best I could do was be prepared for any fashion possibility. And being out in the country, I needed my boots. And sandals were so small a few pairs hardly counted. I groaned. Perhaps we had something in common after all.
“Fine. I will donate one pair of shoes to the thrift store if you will turn in one gun.”
Dad’s jaw ticked and he shook his head.
“Hey, you’re getting a much better deal here! You can get money back for your gun! I’m giving one of my babies away for free.” I felt a pang in my chest. Which one would it be? My least practical were the thigh-high suede Louboutins, but they were so pretty, it felt wrong to part with them. Who cared if I hadn’t worn them in the two years since I’d bought them. Their time was coming. This could be the trip.
Dad shook his head. “You don’t have to give away your shoes, Katie girl. I never did like the twenty-two.” He walked out of the living room and came back with a long rifle. “We can sell this one.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief, and not just because I was keeping my boots. There was no one on this earth that could convince me a sixty-five-year-old man needed twelve guns. Especially when he couldn’t remember to practice basic safety. I was hoping that getting rid of this first one would help him see it wasn’t so bad and lead the way to selling the rest. Along with all these damn bullets.
We spent the next hour rummaging through cabinets and drawers, picking out all the twenty-two caliber rifle bullets, which were different from the twenty-two bullets that went with one of the revolvers. We found three unopened boxes and aboutfifty floating around loose. I didn’t even ask. I dropped those in a freezer baggie and we were finally ready to go.
Dad insisted on driving, another concern, but I kept my mouth shut for now. His mind was pretty good most of the time, and I could always take over if something happened. Luckily, the gun shop wasn’t far. Just a few miles away in the older section of downtown. We pulled up to a large brick building. There were several empty spaces in the front, but Dad bypassed those and chose a spot on the side.
“Did you not see the spaces out front?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it’s better to park over here in case anyone accidentally shoots through the front windows.”
I gulped. That was a pretty solid reason. “Has that happened before?” I asked.
Dad shook his head and laughed. “Only when the Murphy boys tried to rob the place. But that was twenty years ago, back when Mav’s dad was running things. It’s probably fine now, but folks out here only need to learn a lesson once. We leave those spaces out front for the city folk.”
“Surely it’s bulletproof glass now?” I asked, stepping out of the car with the gun in its case and the bag of bullets.
He shrugged. “Would you want to risk it? Plus the shade hits better on the side.”
I followed him inside the shop, the bell at the top of the door announcing our presence. I’m not sure what I expected, but this place seemed to fit the bill. It was similar to a jewelry store, with glass cases along the walls and a larger one in the middle. There were guns and bullets, both in the cases and up on the walls. There was also a section for knives and a few more things I couldn’t make out and quickly lost interest in.
“Haven’t seen you here in a while, Larry. Don’t tell me you’re shopping for something new?”
My mouth dried. Mav spun around on a stool, looking hotter than hell as he slammed a thick James Patterson novel closed and set it to the side. He was in his black leather vest, or cut as he’d called it, with a tight white t-shirt underneath that had a ‘Guns for the Reaper’ logo. His faux hawk was lightly gelled, as if he’d perfected the minimal effort but complete control look. I swallowed and licked my lips.
“You work here?” I asked, trying to appear relaxed as I took him in.
“I do more than that, baby.” He leaned over the counter, and his eye contact was sending me places.
“Didn’t you hear me in the car, Katie?” I jumped at my dad’s voice. Shit, I’d forgotten he was there. “Mav owns the place, like his dad before him.”
Oh, right. I’d been so distracted by the threat of bullets flying through the front door that’d I’d sailed past the part where he’d mentioned Maverick’s dad.
“Cool.” I smiled, trying to regain my senses. “I’ve thought about trying to own my own business. But honestly, I only like the money side of things. The rest of it drives me a little bonkers.”
Mav quirked a smile. “Sounds like we’d make a perfect match. Because as much as I like making money, I’m not a fan of keeping track of it.”
I cleared my throat. “Right, well, here’s hoping we’re about to take some of that off your hands. Dad’s ready to sell.”
“Oh yeah?” His gaze flipped to Dad’s. “Let’s see what you brought.” Mav straightened, switching from playful flirt to serious businessman. His eyes honed in on the gun while he and dad exchanged a lot of words about gun stuff. And while I had no idea what they were talking about, it was clear Mav did. I always did love a confident, intelligent man. Normally this manifested in a more academic setting, but clearly I’d been limiting myself.
My core clenched and I shook my head.Focus!I could not be horny while standing next to my father.
7
Maverick
Seeing Kat and her dad was an unexpected treat. Larry and I had spent many afternoons out back on my range and shooting targets at his place. Larry was a good guy, and after my dad passed, we spent even more time together. I hated what was happening to his mental health, but that’s how it went sometimes. I was glad to see his daughter finally show up to help, though if I’d had any idea how hot she was, I’d have suggested that years ago.
I offered Larry a fair price for his gun and ammo and placed them in the storage room in the back. I’d clean it and do the paperwork for resale later, but I wasn’t worried. Larry always took care of his stuff. Or he used to.
