The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 112: Chapter 112

“Your appointment is with me,” Javier told her, and she stumbled, spinning around too quickly with her wet-soled Converse on the polished floor.
“Easy, querida,” he whispered, steadying her with his hands. He let go when she pushed on them. And right away, she missed his touch.
Sad chuff.
Zip it furball.
She ignored her Tiger’s annoyed hiss and crossed her arms. Why did he do that? She needed answers, but things got confused when he touched her. No, absolutely no touching until he spilled the beans.
“So, you’re J.A. who needed the last possible appointment? What you’re like stalking me now?”
Pamela narrowed her eyes at him, though she was really more flattered than she was annoyed at him. Javi’s bronzed cheeks burned a deep crimson color as he rubbed the back of his neck while he tried to find an explanation.
“Okay, I admit it. I wanted to see you without you getting all tense, and I thought this would be a good solution. So, yes, J.A. is for Javier Auberon. And while stalker is not a nice word, I guess I am busted.”
Then he did it again—naughty Bear. He gave her a crooked, panty-melting grin, the kind mothers warned their daughters about the world over. But it was too late. Javier Auberon was in Maverick Point, at Pamela’s place of work, and her heart was going berserk.
Bum bum. Bum bum. Bum bum.
“I hope you do not take this the wrong way, but it is nice to formally meet you, Pamela Brown,” he added, and she found herself blushing furiously.
Their first meeting had been a headlong rush into naughty land with the sounds of the holidays buzzing in the background. Last night had been the best night of her life, from a purely physical standpoint of course—only he was right. She never told him her name.
Gulp.
His dark eyes glittered like one of those seven dollar bars of chocolate she always wanted to try but couldn’t rationalize splurging when there were other things she needed to buy with her hard earned cash. Was Javi like that, she wondered.
Was he too rich for her blood? Too expensive to take a chance on. And she wasn’t talking about monetarily, she was talking about her heart. Could Pamela really afford to lose even one inch of that muscle to a man? Everything inside of her screamed yes, but she was still wary.
Dangerous man. Sexy, charming, protective Bear.
“Okay, Mrs. Jones, you are almost dry,” Marion said loudly, while taking covert glances at Javier. He made an OMG face and gave Pam a big thumbs up on the not so sly.
Her cheeks heated, and Pamela licked her lips, tucking her wet hair behind her ears. She did not even want to think about what she looked like.
“I like what you did with the highlights,” he murmured before turning to greet her co-worker. “Hello there, I’m Javi.”
“Yes, you are a hottie,” Marion said and winked.
“No, it’s Javi—oh, I see, well, thank you for the compliment,” Javier said, cocking his head to the side adorably.
The man was just too hot for words, as Marion had said. But, oh my—damn, was he blushing? He was embarrassed by the attention! Now, that was unusual. She’d have expected a man like that to have an ego the size of a mountain. It was nice to know he didn’t.
Her Tiger chuffed and purred. The animal ready to go belly up to beg for pets and cuddles. Had she no shame? Sigh. Pamela closed her eyes and tried to rein in her beast, but she was pulled pretty thin, what with trying to calm her ovaries and all.
“Who are you?” Mrs. Jones asked.
“I’m Javi, ma’am.”
“Well, Javi, I’m married, but oooh, if I were twenty years younger this would be a different conversation, you little stud muffin,” Mrs. Jones said, and Marion and Javi both chuckled loudly.
“Okay, ready? Sit down,” Pamela said, irrationally jealous of the old lady.
Oh hell. This was ridiculous. She needed psychiatric help or something. Pamela shook her head and recalled the appointment book J.A. had asked for a pedicure. Fine. She could do that. She pointed to one of the luxury pedicure chairs.
“Uh, I thought maybe a trim?” he eyed the chair doubtfully.
Pamela raised an eyebrow, seizing her chance to really test him. That and there was no way she was cutting that luscious head of hair. She loved his thick, glossy locks and the way they fell over his forehead in sexy disarray.
“Sorry, J.A. I am not a full stylist yet, and my supervising manager had to leave early. So, if you don’t want me to give you a pedicure, then I am afraid it is nothing. Bye-bye, see you never,” she stated and pursed her lips.
“Okay, on second thought, I could use a little TLC in the foot department. Thank you, kitten,” he replied and winked.
Great. Gorgeous and confident in his masculinity. The guy was a freaking gem. Pamela huffed out an annoyed breath. She had to admit, it shocked her that he was just going with this. Most men did not want to have their nails done, but Javier merely nodded and shrugged out of his stylish wool coat.
He hung the expensive garment on the hook beside the chair, and she noted his clothes were all cut to fit his large, muscular frame. There was no way they made regular clothes that big.
She cleared her throat, trying not to get hot and bothered by the way he bent over and untied his expensive looking Italian shoes. Next were his socks, red and green paisley—nice and festive—and she found herself wondering if he wore colorful socks as a sort of rebellion against conforming to what society deemed was proper masculine attire or just for comfort.
More worrisome were the designer labels she could read from this distance, and biting her lower lip, she looked down nervously at her own beat up sneakers. Just more proof she and Javi were worlds apart. It was obvious he had money. Like tons of it.
But she’d guessed that already from his easy grace, excellent manners, and stylish clothing. Even the cadence with which he spoke shouted higher education and a fancy upbringing. She cleared her throat. That line of thinking only made her doubt herself, and Pamela was done with negativity in her life.
Javi was here, and he was trying to get to know her. She should try to reserve her judgement for later—after she told him the truth about her past. If Prince Charming was still interested after her warts were revealed, then they might have a fighting chance at making this thing work. Hope was a precious thing, so fragile and easily discouraged.
Could she trust him with hers? Pamela wanted to. She really did. She was trying to be more optimistic, but taking chances was scary as hell. After all, it was not just herself she was risking. It was Paulie’s life too.
This was hard, she realized. Difficult and frightening as fuck, but she was not a weakling. Pamela was a Tiger. She just had to remember that while she got to work laying out the various scrubs, oils, lotions, and tools she would need for the job.
“Did you want any polish?” she asked, with a little bit of cheek.
Javi raised an eyebrow and grinned, that patented panty-melting one she was starting to love. Then, the beast just shook his head, sending his wavy locks cascading over his forehead.
Holy hotness. She bit back her moan and set his feet—oh boy, he had nice feet too. The Fates really were not playing fair. She was a sucker for a guy who took care of himself, and Javi had that distinction.
He watched her with his dark, unwavering gaze, and she felt goosebumps break out along her skin. There was no doubt about it, Pamela had seriously underestimated how intimate this setup was. Usually, she gave pedicures to little old ladies and noisy teenagers, but Javier Auberon was neither.
Determined to keep her cool, she straddled the rolling stool, grateful for her skort since she had to part her legs in order to lean over to roll up his jeans. She groaned softly as his mountain fresh male musk invaded her nostrils. The scent so tempting, it made her Tiger want to roll around in it, in him.
Prrrrrrrrrr.
Her stomach clenched and she damn near salivated when she found herself mere inches away from the hardness hidden beneath the expensive denim as she ran her nails up his muscular calves, securing his pants at his knees. Javier’s eyes flashed like black glass, his Bear peeking out at her, and she wanted to smirk, but this was affecting her as well.
What she wouldn’t give to rip those jeans off of him right now! Holy hell. A wave of pure need washed over her, but Pam was a professional. She’d thought her heat had come and gone after they’d made love countless times last night, but obviously her inner kitty wanted more of the big bad Bear.
“That feels nice, querida,” he murmured as she started the process of giving the sexy bear a pedicure.
He had nice feet, she’d noted that already. And a small, submissive part of her was completely turned on as she applied a little soap and scrub to her hands, then rubbed each one all the way up his calves. Rinse and repeat. Javi moaned and growled. His eyes heated as she massaged his legs and hit his arches just right. When she started filing his already trimmed and cleaned nails, he hazarded a question. Thank fuck, she was so tense she was ready to snap.
“I’d like to take you out for dinner, after this. If you’d like?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she began automatically. Her eyes narrowed before she told him the truth about why. Pamela was not free to just make plans at the drop of a hat like other women. She had responsibilities.
“I see,” he mumbled, sounding disappointed. She exhaled and grabbed some lotion, applying it to his heels and ankles, where the skin was rougher.
“The reason I can’t go is that I have to pick up my son when I am finished here,” she explained, and waited for his reaction.
Her heart squeezed in her chest as the seconds ticked by. She was certain now that she had used the right ammunition to send the Bear running. Pulling on her inner reserves of strength, Pamela lifted her gaze to his, ready for his anger or revulsion, but the man was just grinning at her. His joy was almost tangible.