Maverick (North Ridge #2) Read online

  “Please, please, please,” I cry out, sending prayers up with my heart, my heavy, tumbling heart. “Please be okay, please come back, please don’t die. Please don’t leave me. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  I keep trying, I keep breathing, his cold lips to mine, and I keep crying.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  This can’t be it. This can’t be it.

  But as time rolls on and the snow continues to fall, blanketing us in a cold embrace, I know.

  This is it.

  This is it.

  No more.

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  Maverick

  North Ridge, British Columbia

  The texts have been coming in all night.

  Are you still at work?

  When will you be off?

  Come to The Bear Trap!

  Drinks on me!

  Those were all sent from my friend Delilah, who owns and bartends our local watering hole.

  Where the fuck are you?

  I’m heading to the Bear, should I wait for you?

  I’m pretty sure your dog pissed on the floor, btw, I can’t tell and I don’t want to smell it.

  Those were from my older brother, Fox, whom I live with, along with my dog Chewie.

  I ignored them. Not to be a dick, but I was at work. Maybe a few years ago I would have had the whole day off as I had planned, but the fact is, ever since I’d been put in charge of North Ridge’s search and rescue team, days off barely exist. Even though it’s early March and in some ways winter is winding down, the mountains and ski slopes are still busy, and there’s usually some idiot who decides to go skiing off course who we have to rescue later. Besides, winter is a bitch, and like they say on Game of Thrones, she’s constantly coming. There’s always a few more storms that swoop in before the season is done.

  It’s eleven o’clock at night and pitch-dark out as I park my truck outside the house I share with Fox and glance at my phone, which is lighting up again. This time the texts are from my father, laying it on thick. You know when he uses my real name I’m in big fucking trouble.

  John, come to the bar, everyone is here.

  You know this is Shane’s big night and he’s your brother.

  He looks up to you, you need to be here. Now.

  God damn it, John!

  I sigh, breath frozen in the air, and lean back in my seat, watching the snow slowly gather on the windshield. I don’t know why I’m dragging my feet about the whole thing, but I am. I’d known for some time that my younger brother was going to propose to his girlfriend Rachel tonight and while I’m happy as hell for them—if there was ever a star-crossed couple that belonged together, it’s those two—I guess it makes me feel a little…old.

  Maybe that’s not the right word. I’m turning thirty-one this year. I’m fit as fuck, in prime shape, and advancing nicely in my career, even though it’s a challenge being the boss of my colleagues and friends now. I guess it’s just complicated when one of your brothers decides to marry the love of his life. Makes you wonder why that doesn’t seem to be happening for yourself.

  And of course I can answer that question right away. I live in a small town smack in the mid-south of the province of British Columbia. There are about ten thousand full-time residents in North Ridge, and I know I’ve dated pretty much every attractive female within a fifty-kilometre radius.

  The term dating is even a bit of a stretch. There’s been less than a dozen I’ve full-on dated, whether for a few weeks or a few months. The rest are just one-night stands and hook-ups. I’m not exactly proud of my reputation (I believe Rachel called me a man-whore and I didn’t correct her) but at the same time, I’m not ashamed of it. I know what I want and it doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. With my lifestyle and my line of work, relationships just seem to mess everything up. What’s the point of getting close to someone if it’s just eventually going to end anyway? What woman would not only understand me, but the job that I have to do, how important that is? Not many.

  Not that there’s anyone I’d even consider getting close with. It’s been a few months actually since I last got laid, some French tourists who were in town. Yes, I used the plural. What can I say? They liked to share and I loved to let them.

  A pitiful howl snaps me out of my musings. I glance up and see Chewie at the large windows overlooking the deck. She knows I’m home and if I don’t go inside and pay her some attention, there will be hell to pay. She’s not just named after Chewbacca (I dare you to think her barks, whines, and howls aren’t Wookie speak), she will literally chew her way through fucking everything and anything. I’m pretty sure Fox regrets the day I brought that pit bull home from the rescue, especially as she immediately ate one of his girlfriend’s bras.

  I sigh, suddenly weary from the day, and trudge up to the house where I’m immediately greeted by Chewie who’s acting like she hasn’t seen me in months, her body wiggling all over the place and nearly knocking over the stack of winter boots by the door.

  “Easy, silly girl,” I tell her, scratching her behind her ears as she does circles around me before she runs outside into the snow to do her business. As much as Fox gives me hell over her, at least she never expects me to take her on a walk in negative temps.

  I look around the house. It’s clean, albeit a bit messy. That’s natural when you have two guys living together, both of whom are rarely home. In the summer and fall, Fox works as a hot shot, a wildfire fighter and smoke jumper, which takes him away from North Ridge and into little camps across BC and other provinces as he fights the blazes on the ground. In the winter, he works as a ski and snowboard guide at our local ski resort.

  Chewie rushes back in from the cold and gives me one of those looks of hers that warms your heart before it breaks.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her as I head down the hall to my bedroom, stripping off the layers of work gear as I go. “I’d stay home with you if I could. But you know family. If I don’t go, I’ll look like an asshole.”

  She snorts in protest, following me, trying her hardest to win me over with her damn sweet eyes. I’ve always been a sucker for the ladies.

  It doesn’t take long for me to throw on a thermal and sweater, then distract Chewie with a Milk-Bone and head back out to the truck before she realizes that I’m gone. The snow is falling even harder than it was earlier and I fishtail in the truck for a bit as I head down the driveway.

  The bar isn’t too far from our house, so I have barely enough time to put on my game face before I pull into the parking lot.

  “You’re happy for him,” I tell myself as I park the truck.

  And I am. Shane deserves all of this and more. As his brother, I couldn’t be more proud. I just have to shake off that tinge of self-doubt that’s clouding me and let it go. The truth is, and I know this, that I can’t even imagine settling down with anyone. And since that’s the truth, there’s no reason to feel anything but pure joy for my brother. And maybe a bit of relief that it’s not me who’s making a lifetime commitment.

  Inside the pub, the celebration is in full-swing. Normally there’s just a few of us in here, ordering drinks to keep Delilah busy and in business while shooting the shit, flicking peanut shells on the floor, fucking around. Now it seems like half the town is crammed inside. Music from the jukebox is blaring Willie Nelson, people are dancing, drinking, yelling.

  Some of them are yelling at me.

  “Holy fuck, you finally showed up!” Fox yells, coming over to me with two bottles of beer in his hands, immediately handing me one. He’s drunk, which is a surprise since I don’t see him like this too often.

  “I told you I was coming,” I tell him, taking the beer and having a tepid sip, knowing I’ll have to take it easy tonight since I’ll be the one taking his drunk ass back home.

  “Actually, you didn’t,” he says, throwing his arm around my shoulder like he didn’t just see me this morning. Guess he forgot about the dog piss.


  “John,” my father says, appearing at my side. My father isn’t a tall man, though all his sons tower over him, including me. I’m 6’3”, Fox is 6’2” and Shane is 6’ even. Even so, the man wrote the book on tough love and can side-eye you into retreating with your tail between your legs. For all my height and brawn, my father will always be able to put me in my place.

  “About time,” he says gruffly.

  I try to give him my most appeasing smile. Lately it’s been working on him, though I think it has more to do with him finding love again than it does with me.

  “I worked late,” I explain, “not much I can do about that.”

  My father narrows his eyes at me, seeking the truth.

  “What?” I say.

  “I know you’ve got a lot more on your plate now and the government keeps you on a short leash, but don’t forget that family is family. Now go give your younger brother a damn hug.”

  He stalks off to the bathroom and I catch the eye of Vernalee, Rachel’s mother, waving me over to her stool at the bar.

  Fox is already distracted by the dart board so I head toward her.

  “Maverick, you came,” she says happily, a glass of sparkling wine in her hand. I know it’s sparkling wine because Del would never stock real champagne for the bar. This ain’t that kind of place.

  I give her a quick hug. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You must be thrilled.”

  She gives me a wry grin. “I am. Though I know it’s a little weird.”

  “Weird is good.”

  Last year Vernalee was diagnosed with lung cancer (she’s fine now), which prompted Rachel to come back to North Ridge for the first time in six years. Their relationship was pretty rocky but they managed to repair it, while Rachel also found herself repairing her relationship with Shane. Obviously that worked too, a little too well.

  But what was also happening at the same time was that my father and Rachel’s mother were falling for each other. I don’t like to dwell on the sappy shit too much, but the two of them are obviously happy. And while it is a little weird that our families are connected now in two different ways, this is the first time I’ve seen my dad with someone other than my mother. She died just after Shane was born and I was only five years old. As much as I can’t forget my mother, my dad deserves to find love again more than anyone.

  I look over my shoulder and spot Shane, his arm around Rachel, both of them drinking and smiling with some of the locals. When I catch their eye, Rachel grins at me and Shane raises his drink. I raise my beer.

  “So when do you think you’ll settle down?” Vernalee asks, not so innocently.

  I give her a wry smile and raise my brow. “When I find a good reason to.”

  She shakes her head. “All playboy types eventually settle. Even George Clooney. If you stopped being so damn picky, perhaps you’d end up married with babies one day too.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know, I think being picky worked in Clooney’s favor. His wife is not only insanely hot, she’s a lawyer too.”

  “Well we both know you lack his looks, charm, and money, but it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

  “Vernalee, are you picking on Mav again?” Delilah asks from the bar as she pops open a few beers for customers.

  “Thank you, Del,” I tell her. “Always looking out for me.”

  Fox laughs, appearing behind me. “Yeah, she’ll have you believe that but she’s the first one to throw you under a bus.”

  Del shrugs, popping limes into the neck of the Coronas and sliding them down the bar. “Maybe you deserve to be thrown under a bus. All you Nelson brothers are obstinate. Shane is the only one with half a brain, marrying someone as lovely as Rachel.”

  “Oh, Rachel was just the first girl he saw,” Vernalee jokes.

  “Hey,” Rachel chides her mother, pulling Shane over to us. Apparently she has superhuman hearing. I think all women do.

  I give Rachel a hug and kiss on the cheek and Shane a loud whack on the back. “Sorry I’m late,” I tell them.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Shane says, his voice rock steady. “You’re here now.”

  “And missing most of the party, it seems.” I look around. “You’re so composed,” I point out, nudging him with my elbow. “I would have thought after the proposal and committing yourself to one woman for life, you’d be drunk off your ass.”

  “It’s an illusion,” he says with a wink but I know that’s a lie. Shane’s always had a good head on his shoulders, barely anything rattles him. By contrast, Fox is short-tempered and impulsive. Me, I’m somewhere in between.

  “Aren’t you going to ask to see the ring?” Rachel asks, fluttering her fingers in my direction.

  “Hate to break it to you, but I’ve already seen it. The rest of us knew about this way before you did.”

  “You’re so good at keeping secrets,” Rachel says to Shane, leaning into him. Then she looks at me with bright blue eyes. “I’m not though. Guess who we saw tonight.”

  I frown. “George Clooney?”

  She frowns right back. “No,” she says slowly. “Your new employee.”

  “Riley Clarke?” I ask.

  She nods, a teasing smile on her lips.

  “How did you know it was her?” I ask. “I haven’t even seen her picture.”

  Shane bites back a smile. “You haven’t even seen her picture? I thought you hired her yourself.”

  “You don’t submit photographs when you apply for a job, we’re not a fucking modelling agency.” I pause. “And I’ve searched for her all over social media. She’s practically a ghost.”

  The moment I took over as head of the North Ridge Search and Rescue (or SAR), I was immediately tasked with help in hiring new talent. The BC government specifically wanted me to hire a woman or minority so they could meet their quota. So I looked through the resumes and applications that had been sent in over the last year or so when we last put out a job ad and Riley was pretty much the only qualified woman who applied.

  On paper, she was almost perfect. Born in Washington state, then working at resorts and volunteering at SARs in Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado, Riley was twenty-five years old and had dual citizenship, which meant she could legally work in Canada and expressed interest in relocating to North Ridge. Why, I have no idea.

  The only problem I found was that she was involved in a rather traumatic event at her last position in Aspen, an avalanche that left one of her colleagues in a coma. But if she was still wanting to work in SAR, then I wasn’t going to stop her. I passed her information onto the government higher ups and through a series of emails and phone call interviews they conducted, she was hired.

  Now she’s here in town, and though I have yet to officially meet the woman I’ll be working beside, I do have a meeting with her tomorrow to get her oriented before she starts and break the ice.

  But how they knew about her, I have no idea.

  “It was Del,” Rachel tells me, raising her voice to be heard above the music which had suddenly gotten louder. “She said she’s come into the bar a few times and they got to talking.”

  “You really haven’t seen her?” Shane asks again.

  “No. Why? Does she look like sasquatch?”

  “Only if sasquatch’s mother was Kim Basinger.”

  “Interesting,” I say, getting a strange picture of sasquatch with a blonde wig in my head.

  “She’s a fucking babe,” she says emphatically. “Shane couldn’t stop drooling.”

  “Oh come off it,” Shane says, rolling his eyes. Then he looks to me. “But she’s right. She’s hot. You’re going to go crazy, Mav, I’m calling it now.”

  I shrug and take a sip of my beer. “I’m sure I’ll be able to handle myself. We have a rule about screwing around anyway.”

  “Yeah, you say that,” he says. “But just you wait.”

  I roll my eyes. I appreciate a gorgeous female as much as the next guy, but I’m pretty good at keeping it in my pants when I have to. And I�
��m not about to fuck up my new position by getting involved with someone I work with. Besides, how hot can she be? I couldn’t find a single Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram page for her. All I found was her LinkedIn, and that didn’t have a photo. Most hot chicks have their pictures floating all over the damn internet for the world to fawn over.

  “We’ll see about that,” I tell him. “Enough about me anyway, let’s talk you and wedding plans.”

  Rachel levels me with her gaze. “Do you really want to talk about our wedding plans?”

  “Nah, I’m just bullshitting you guys. How about we all just get drunk instead.” I raise my beer to them. “Cheers, brother. Future sister. Here’s to you. Here’s to family. Here’s to what’s next.”

  “Here’s to what’s next,” they say in unison.

  But as we clink our drinks against each other, I can’t help but think about what’s next for me.

  Tomorrow.

  I’ll meet this now infamous Riley Clarke.

  2

  CHAPTER TWO

  Riley

  “Ugh,” I moan out loud to myself. The alarm beside me has been going on and off for the last hour as I’ve pressed snooze again and again, trying in vain to stave off my hangover and slip away into blissful sleep where pain doesn’t exist and bright lights can’t hurt me.

  But it’s by the billionth ring that I realize that if I don’t eventually get up and face the day, I’m going to miss out on orientation at the new job. And even though going out last night was regretful in more than a few ways, I don’t want to further that feeling by not showing up at North Ridge Search and Rescue at all. Even though I don’t start officially until later in the week, I still haven’t met my boss or been formally introduced to the team.

  “Riley, you’re an idiot,” I tell myself. Yes, out loud. Again. Hey, when you live by yourself and don’t know anyone in a new town, talking to yourself becomes more and more comforting. I don’t even know why there’s such a stigma anyway, I dare anyone to tell me they’ve never done it themselves. You’re often your own best listener, even if you ignore most of your advice.