While Ella chafed under their father’s stringent rules, Martha didn’t feel the same, assuming the role of Daddy’s Girl with ease.
Sometimes Ella was certain the stork had dropped her at the wrong damn house.
Maverick shook his head. “No. Baseball would take up too much time after school and Granddaddy needs me at the winery in the spring.”
Even though they’d only been talking for three weeks, Ella already knew enough about Maverick and his love for his family and their farm to venture a guess that it wasn’t his grandfather who’d insisted he work at the winery.
“He actually said that?” she asked. “Those exact words?”
Maverick laughed loudly. He did that a lot. Ella had never been around such a genuinely happy, cheerful person in her life. The only socializing she and her family did was with the other members of their church’s congregation, who all seemed to hold the same beliefs as her dad. Anything that makes you happy is a sin. Suffering was the name of their game, so being around Maverick, with his ever-present grin, was addictive and fun and a breath of fresh air.
“Okay,” he confessed. “You got me. Granddaddy would probably love it if I played on the baseball team, because it’s his favorite sport and I have a hell of an arm. The thing is, I’d rather be at the winery working with him.”
“I think it’s sweet that you’re so close to your grandfather. I feel the same way about Gigi.”
Ella didn’t talk about her family much, but Gigi was the exception to that rule because her grandmother meant the world to her. Sometimes, Gigi felt like the only person who truly understood her.
Although, now that she thought about it, Maverick seemed to “get” her too.
“You must miss her. I couldn’t imagine living so far away from Granddaddy Lloyd.”
“I do. But we write letters and talk on the phone every Saturday.”
Maverick sighed. “On whose phone?”
The fact she didn’t have a phone was something Maverick couldn’t wrap his head around. Mainly because he made it pretty clear if she had one, he’d be blowing it up night and day, texting and calling her. She’d never really been bothered about the lack of a phone—probably because it was hard to miss something she’d never had. And by that, she meant not only the phone but friends to talk to.
Nowadays, she wanted one desperately, aware that it wasn’t only Maverick who longed to keep their conversations going when they weren’t together.
Maverick led her into the library, flashing that charming smile of his at Mrs. Crites, the librarian.
“You know you’re supposed to be at lunch right now,” Mrs. Crites reminded Maverick, who’d been skipping lunch so he could “help” Ella with her library aide duties.
Maverick leaned on the circulation desk, grinning. “I’m really not hungry. And I figure I can do a lot more good here.”
Mrs. Crites issued the lunch reminder daily, but she’d yet to force Maverick to go to the cafeteria. “You realize I only let you hang out here because I’m hoping being around all these books will encourage you to read.”
Maverick laughed good-naturedly. “That’s a great plan. And I think it’s probably going to work. Just a few more months and I’ll definitely want to check out a book.”
Mrs. Crites rolled her eyes, then looked in Ella’s direction. “It’s up to you to be a good influence on him, Ella.”
She nodded. “I’ll do my best, but he’s a pretty hard case.”
Mrs. Crites agreed, then went back to cataloging a stack of new books, while Ella stashed her backpack behind the desk and loaded a book cart so she could begin her reshelving duties.
Once she rolled it out from behind the circulation desk, Maverick took over, pushing it toward the nonfiction section. He was now an expert at her routine.
“You know, you really can go to lunch if you want. I’m sure you’re hungry.” She’d made that offer every day, and he refused to leave.
“I packed a sandwich,” he said. “I’ll eat it on the way to my next class.”
“Maverick,” she started, but he stopped her, glancing over his shoulder before gently pushing her against one of theshelves. This section of the library was rarely used and out of Mrs. Crites’s direct line of sight.
He leaned closer and her heart began to race. Not in fear but with excitement and—God—arousal.
“I want to kiss you, Firefly,” he whispered.
“Firefly?”