Page 62 of Savage Heart

A car pulls down the drive, and I groan when I see that it’s Millie Claire. Haven’t I earned a break after a solid two weeks with campers? Her son being one of the most obnoxious of them all . . .

“Maverick, just the man I wanted to see,” she says, her eyes roaming down my body like she’s paid for a private viewing. “Looking all kinds of studly today.” She grins. “My son can’t stop talking about how much fun he had at camp. He loves you so much.”

“I’m surprised you’re not with him right now. It hasn’t been two hours since he left.”

She laughs. “Oh, don’t you worry. Mama has a life of her own.”

She pushes her hair back and stalks toward me, a woman on a mission. I brace myself.

“I wanted to talk to you about inducting Lincoln into the Hall of Fame at Ironwood High,” she says.

“What?”

Her head rears back. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about it. We’ve been talking about it for weeks. Frankly, it should have been done years ago, but they didn’t have me on the board back then to get them in shape.” She takes a deep breath and leans in conspiratorially. “Did you not see the folder I left for you at the ranch? It has a rundown of the ceremony—”

“No, I haven’t seen it. But you don’t really need me to approve.” A hollow laugh escapes me. My words came out harshly, but it doesn’t give Millie Claire the slightest pause.

“Well, we’d love for you to be part of the ceremony.” She turns her smile up a few watts, and I curse under my breath. “Which leads me to my next question. Would you do the honors of saying a few words about Lincoln?”

I’m already shaking my head. “Nah, that’s not really my thing.”

Her face falls. “Maverick,” she says, easing closer.

She touches my shirt, her hands moving up my chest.

I take a step back and am not sure why it surprises her. I’ve never once given her an indication that I want her to touch me, despite her exhausting efforts since high school. She chased me hard, with the exception of a few weeks toward the end of senior year when she turned her attention on Lincoln. I enjoyed the break. Since her divorce a few years ago, she’s doubled down on the flirtation.

“There is no one who would be more special, more fitting, to talk about Lincoln Keller than you, his best friend.”

“You just missed Lincoln’s brother. I’m not a public speaker, Millie Claire. And I already have my hands full around here. Find someone else.”

Her lips form into a pout, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes and walk away.

“Please, Maverick. Think about it. This town respects you and wants to hear what you have to say more than anyone.”

“Well, that’s a fucking shame because I try to avoid speaking as much as possible.”

Her head tilts to the side, and she laughs. “You just don’t know how special you are, do you?”

Now I do roll my eyes.

“I’m putting you down as a tentative yes.” She lifts her hand when I shake my head. “No. I do not want you to live in regret, Maverick. You will be so sad if it’s not you. I know you will.”

Fuck me. I glare at her, and she remains unfazed, so I turn and walk away.

“It’s a no,” I say over my shoulder. “A firm no.”

“We’ll talk soon,” she calls.

The woman is fucking relentless.

I walk in late to dinner, and the noise level sounds like everyone is three beers in.

“What’s everyone so happy about?” I mumble under my breath.

Billie hip checks me.

“We survived another year of camp, you fool,” she says. “What are you so foul about?”