Merit (Treasure State Wildcats Book 4)
Merit: Chapter 9

My ass went from the stool to the floor in less than a second. It should have hurt except I was too shocked to feel pain.

What did she say?

Stevie gasped and leapt off her own seat to crouch beside me, gaze sweeping me for injuries. “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

No, I wasn’t okay. Because either my brain had conjured up the wildest goddamn dream of my life. Or Stevie had just said those words herself.

“Fuck.” I dragged a hand over my face as the pain began to register. It spread, hot and sharp, through my hip and elbow.

The waitress rushed over, eyes wide.

“I’m fine.” I waved her off and pushed up off the floor, giving my stool a wary glance before returning to the seat.

Every eye in the bar was aimed my way. Another day, I might have felt embarrassed. But I wasn’t a stranger to attention, and right now, I had more pressing shit to worry about.

“Did you just ask me to have sex with you?” I whispered.

Stevie stood, her mouth opening and closing, but before she could answer my question, she buried her face in her hands.

“Look at me,” I ordered, tugging at her wrist.

When she dropped her arms, her cheeks were bright red. For a moment, I thought she’d take a seat and we could talk this out. But before I could stop her, she swept her purse off the table and rushed for the door, the short-as-hell skirt of her dress swishing around her hips.

“Stevie,” I hissed.

She kept walking.

“Damn it.” I slid off the stool, keeping my feet this time, and fished my wallet from my jeans. I smacked a hundred on the table, and like our first date, I paid for a meal I wouldn’t get to eat.

I flew out the door, scanning up and down the sidewalk. Stevie rushed for her Jeep parked toward the corner of the block. “Stevie!”

She did what she did best. Ignored me.

A growl came from my throat as I raced to catch her, but she was fast. As kids, she’d been the fastest in the neighborhood. Even faster than me.

By the time I made it to the Jeep, she was behind the wheel, engine roaring to a start.

I pulled on the passenger door’s handle, trying to open it, but it was locked. “Don’t you fucking dare drive away.”

She drove away, leaving a nice hole in the line of cars along Main Street.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I tipped my face to the cloudless blue sky, feeling like I’d just been punched in the nuts.

This was why I didn’t have girlfriends. This was why casual hookups were so much easier. Women didn’t typically run out on me, but the couple of times a girl had snuck out of bed before I’d woken up, I hadn’t cared. I definitely hadn’t wanted to chase her down.

I think I want you to have sex with me.

She’d said that, right? Stevie had asked me to have sex with her. I was almost certain I hadn’t made that up in my head.

Not a chance I was leaving that unsettled. So I changed directions, marching for my truck parked on the next block over. Then I tore off for the other side of town, my truck practically steering its way to her house.

For a week, I’d pondered that kiss. I’d let myself replay it so many times that I’d nearly convinced myself it was a dream. It should be a dream.

The best kiss of my life couldn’t belong to Stevie Adair.

Except it did.

Was this my punishment for frivolously kissing girls in the past? Was this my penance?

Or was it the reason she wanted to have sex?

Maybe she was going through a dry spell. Maybe she just wanted an orgasm. Maybe she was fucking with me to see what I’d say. But this was not something I was going to guess about. I needed a damn explanation. Now.

My foot pressed the gas pedal deeper. There wasn’t a speed limit I didn’t break on my way to Stevie’s.

The garage door was closing as I pulled into her driveway. I parked behind her stall, blocking her in so she couldn’t drive away again. Then I shut off my truck and stalked for the house.

Standing on the stoop felt like returning to the scene of a crime.

I dragged a hand over my face, taking a deep breath as I tried to calm my racing heart. Then I pounded a fist on the door, straining my ears for footsteps, waiting for her to open up.

Nothing. Not a single sound came from inside.

I pounded on the door again, then rang the doorbell.

Silence.

“You don’t get to ignore me,” I said, pushing the doorbell in rapid succession.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

I dug my phone from my pocket and pulled up her contact, hitting her name so it would ring too.

It took another minute until finally I heard the stomp of feet on hardwood. Then the door whipped open, the chime of the doorbell drifting outside.

“Maverick, I don’t⁠—”

“Shut up.” I stepped inside, forcing her backward on bare feet. Then I slammed the door closed, blocking out that cursed stoop and all thoughts of that kiss. “You don’t get to drop that bomb on me, then walk away. We’re going to talk.”

Stevie gulped as her gaze dropped to the floor. “It was a mistake. Forget I ever said anything.”

Yeah, because that was something I could forget. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“Liar.”

Her gaze flicked up, narrowing to a glare.

I arched my eyebrows. “The truth. What the fuck is going on?”

She groaned, her face contorting as she turned and trudged into the house. Instead of leading me to the kitchen, she changed paths for the living room, skirting the end of the couch. Then, without any hesitation, she face-planted into the cushions.

The skirt of her dress flopped up, revealing a sliver of her black panties. I forced my gaze away, inspecting the living room.

It was comfortable and clean with neutral colors and a vanilla candle on the coffee table beside a book that looked like it was for decoration, not reading. The TV was too small, but otherwise, it was a nice house. It was exactly what I’d expect for Stevie, classy and inviting.

Though she’d never invited me here before.

Nope. She’d just asked me for sex.

“Stevie,” I barked. “Explain. Now.”

“Uh-rar-rar-rar-rar.”

Did she expect me to understand that? “In English, please.”

She punched the couch beside her hip, then turned her face, not climbing off the couch, just freeing her mouth. Her hair fell over her eyes. “I’m a virgin.”

I rocked on my heels, those three words hitting me square in the chest. “You’re a what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” she groaned, turning her face back into the cushion, doing her best to hide.

Or suffocate.

I was supposed to be the dramatic one. That role had been mine for years. How dare she try to switch places?

With a scowl, I stomped around the couch and shoved her legs to the side, making room for myself on the end of the couch. “Would you look at me?”

She kicked my thigh.

I pinched the skin on her ankle, earning a yelp.

“Hey.” She twisted, kicking at me again, but it forced her out of the cushion and up to a seat. She leaned her elbows to her knees, letting the curtain of her hair fall forward and shield her face.

My fingers itched to push it aside, to tuck it behind her ear, but if she needed that wall of soft brown waves between us, so be it.

“You asked me about my boyfriends and why I’d never brought anyone home. It’s because there wasn’t anyone to bring home. You know I never dated anyone from the Oaks.”

Not a single one had been good enough for her. Stevie and I might not have been tight, but we’d hung out in the same circle of kids in sports. She’d gone to prom with a group of girls from the volleyball team. A few of her teammates had dated guys on the football, basketball or baseball teams. But Stevie had always stayed single.

And now, looking back, I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted to my buddies hitting on Stevie. We’d all been pigs—to steal her word from earlier. We’d been teenagers. We’d been hyperfocused on sex.

I hadn’t warned any of them away from her, but I might have reminded a few of them on occasion that our families were close. That the only guy who could give Stevie shit was me.

Not that she needed to know that.

“But what about college?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I told you. I’ve been busy. And every guy I’ve dated has been . . . meh.”

“Meh?”

“Yeah. Meh.”

“What does that mean?” I had an idea—James’s face popped into mind—but I wanted specifics.

“Freshman year, I went out with a guy three times. He’d come to my dorm room and asked me to change shoes so I wouldn’t be too tall.”

“Dick. Who else?”

She sighed. “A guy my sophomore year took me to a house party and slipped something into my drink.”

“What the fuck?” I yelled, shooting off the couch. My pulse spiked as a burning rage spread from my chest through my veins. “Who?”

“It doesn’t matter. A couple of friends showed up and knew I wasn’t the type to get that drunk, so they took me home before anything happened.”

“Motherfucker. I’m going to kill him.”

“He doesn’t go to school here anymore. I reported him to the campus police. And that was my last house party.”

My hands fisted at my sides as I stared down at her. “Who was it?”

“No one you know, Maverick. He was in one of my classes.” Her shoulders curled forward. “I haven’t told many people about that. It’s not exactly something I like to relive or admit. But even though nothing happened, it made me not want to date much for a while. So I didn’t.”

“No shit.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s more than meh.”

She shrugged again. “It’s in the past.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I stuck close to the team after that.”

We all stuck close to our teams. Most athletes didn’t do much with other students. We stuck to those we trusted. Those who understood the demands of being a student athlete. The people who wouldn’t take pictures of us and post online.

Sure, I’d hook up with jersey chasers, those women more interested in scoring with a guy on the team than much else, but it wasn’t like we’d hang out after.

“What about James?” I asked.

“Not my type.”

“Who else?”

“Guys I’ve met at school, mostly. I’ve gone on a handful of dates but usually it ends after dinner and a movie.”

Did she kiss these losers? Did she let them inside her mouth?

The idea of another man on her stoop, claiming that mouth, made something twist in my gut.

“I haven’t met anyone I wanted to invite into my bed,” she said, her voice dropping quiet. “You know I’m picky.”

She said it like it was a bad thing.

Okay, so the guys she’d met had all been fucking idiots. That still didn’t explain this proposition of hers. “Why would you want me?”

“It’s humiliating, Maverick.” Finally, she looked up at me, hazel eyes swimming with tears. “It’s become this thing, and I just want it over with. I’m tired of feeling like I’m different. Like I can’t talk to my friends about sex because I don’t actually know about sex. I don’t want to have to explain it to future boyfriends like it’s some sort of secret. I don’t want someone who wants to take my virginity for bragging rights, and I also don’t want a guy who makes a big deal over it.”

Well, it was a big deal. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why me?”

“Because you’re you.” She flung out a hand, gesturing to my body. “It’s not exactly like you have qualms against meaningless sex. You know what you’re doing. At least, I hope.”

I gave her a flat look. Of course I knew what I was doing.

“This is embarrassing for me, but you’ve already seen me at my most embarrassing moments, so why not just add this to the list.”

Like the time she’d gotten carsick on a camping trip and puked all over the front of her shirt.

I hated that this was an embarrassment for her. But I understood it too. There weren’t many women our age who’d kept their virginity unless it was for a specific reason. Maybe they were saving it for marriage. Maybe it was a religious belief.

Stevie didn’t want to be different. She was special, talented and unique. But she’d always been content to be a part of the crowd, not to stand apart.

But this?

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t take this from her, even if she was asking. It should be with someone who’d make it count. Who she’d look back on with fond memories, not contempt or regret.

Except before I could open my mouth to let her down gently, a tear dripped down her cheek. “You’re safe.”

The room seemed to tip upside down, then right side up. A complete spin, end over end. Except, when it settled back to normal, nothing was normal.

I was safe.

That was why she’d asked. Despite all the other reasons, it was the only one that mattered.

What the hell did I do now?

“Maverick?”

“Yeah,” I choked out.

“Can you leave now?” Her voice sounded hollow. Ashamed. Shaky, like she was having a hard time keeping the rest of those tears from falling.

Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. There was too much to discuss, too much to consider. But the crack in her voice, the way her shoulders curled in on themselves, sent me from the house.

Date over.