1. Cooper

Cooper

I really hate the holidays. No . . . that’s not really true. I hate drunk idiots around the holidays, and that’s saying something because I work in a bar. Some poor drunk guy is passed out on the bar as I wipe around his head and arms, trying to clean up before closing.

I’m dead on my feet. So beyond ready to go home, but I get it. The holidays can be kind of lonely. I mean, I have a lot of friends—probably more than most, but they’re all busy with new relationships and racing.

I smile to myself. Who would have thought that I, Cooper Moon, would befriend some of the hottest racers in the sport? And I mean, hot—as in super popular and super hot hot hot sexy.

Phew.

I have to wave my hand in front of my face to cool myself off, thinking about it. Which feels a little wrong, considering they really have become my friends. Two of them are actually married now—Sebastian and Axel. And even Royal is all happy and settled with his reporter, Soren.

Of course, then there’s Maverick.

A goofy grin comes over my face, thinking about the broody motorcycle racer who I’m determined will be my friend. And okay—yeah, I’ve maybe developed a little bit of a crush on him in the time I’ve known him. But if you saw him, you wouldn’t blame me. Not even a little bit.

Maverick is just pure sex. He’s gorgeous. There’s no debating it. He’s tall and built—lean but muscled—I know this because of the several photo shoots he’s done over the years. Even before I met him in person, I was a fan.

But he’s also a tough one to crack. He doesn’t talk much at all, and he spends most of his time either on the track or at his mysterious house on the outskirts of town. Everyone else seems to live in the same neighborhood, but Maverick just up and moved to some undisclosed location recently.

Royal says he’s happy, but I’m not sure Royal would really know. Maverick isn’t exactly Team Royal. So I doubt he tells him much. So I’m totally shocked stupid when the door to the bar opens, and in walks the same man who seems to be on my mind way more than is actually healthy—Maverick Adair.

He strides into the bar wearing torn jeans and a leather coat, with a gray beanie pulled over his ears. God, he looks good.

He always looks good.

Okay, Cooper. Keep it together.

“Maverick?” I squeak out embarrassingly loud and high.

He makes his way over to the bar I’m standing behind. “Cooper, hey.”

“Hi.” My voice is still way too high, but I can’t seem to help it. “Why are you here?”

I wince at my own question—which was kind of rude—but luckily, Maverick just gives me a slow smirk before sitting down across from me.

“I mean, I’m glad you’re here. You can always be here if you want to be here.” God, Cooper, please shut up. But I don’t. Because he turns my damn brain into mush. “I mean, it’s just you’re you. You know. Maverick Adair . . . this super hot, super rich celebrity . . .” His eyes widen in amusement, and I want to crawl into a hole and die. But I just keep going because he’s still listening and not saying a word, and I cannot shut up. “I mean, you’re allowed to be in a bar, but this is kind of a dive bar. And far away from your new house.”

He smiles pretty big then, and I think it’s the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him. “You heard I moved?”

My cheeks flush red, and I try not to die of embarrassment. Sound more like a stalker, Cooper. “I um . . . it was mentioned.”

He doesn’t look freaked-out though. “I wouldn’t call this a dive bar. It’s nice.” He looks around, and I try not to laugh. I mean, it’s fine, but it’s far from high-class.

“Are you on a date?” I ask, excitement and then some other strange emotion bubbling up. I mean, on the one hand, I’m a fan. I’ve watched his career and all things Maverick for years now . . . including his whirlwind, tabloid-worthy romance with Phoebe.

I mean it was the topic of so many conversations. The sassy popstar with the quiet sometimes moody-seeming racer. The way he seemed to melt in her presence. The surly bad boy who changes only for her . . .

I mean, hello!

That is exciting.

So yeah, now that they’re no longer together, the whole world has been waiting to see who he’ll date next. Will it be another singer?

There’s a female race car driver I’ve had my eye on for him. I mean, she’s beautiful, and they seem friendly. That would be a good match.

“Cooper?”

I realize I’ve gone off on a tangent in my brain and Maverick is talking to me, just in time before he thinks I’m totally insane. “Um, what?”

He smiles at that and doesn’t look annoyed at all. “You asked me if I was here for a date. I’m not.”

“Oh,” I say simply and wipe down the bar to give myself something to do.

He makes himself comfortable on his barstool across from me, and I swear my heart does this little flip inside my chest. It’s ridiculous how this man can make my heart do that and he has no idea.

I mean, I think I’m pretty damn obvious, but he has no reason to pick up on my insane crush. Why would he? He’s totally straight, and we barely know each other. But he’s here.

Which, once again, I find myself wanting to ask him why he’s here but manage to not do that.

“I just wanted to see you.”

I nearly trip over my own feet when he says that because I’d stupidly started to walk at the exact time to go check on Mr. Drunky, who’s passed out at the bar. But thankfully, I catch myself on the bar and turn to look at Maverick, who’s watching me curiously. “Me?” I squeak, and my cheeks flame.

God, Cooper. Get it together.

The sweet smile on his handsome face is almost too much. “Yes. You. Why wouldn’t I want to see you, Cooper?”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Yes, we’ve had a few moments together in the short time we’ve known each other. We were both at the hospital when Sebastian and Axel were in a horrible accident, and I went to a race with him once or twice to support our mutual friends. But it’s not like we hang out all the time.

He doesn’t just go out of his way to see me. Just show up at my place of work to see me. Oh my God, I think I’m hyperventilating.

“Cooper?” Yeah, he’s for sure freaked-out.

“I’m sorry. I’m just surprised,” I say honestly. “You’re the last person I expected to see here tonight.” I swear his face falls a little, and I want to fix it. “I mean, but I’m glad. It’s a great surprise,” I say quickly, and his smile is back.

“Good. I just thought I’d see where you work and see if maybe you want to hang out.”

I swear my jaw drops at that. He wants to hang out with me? After my shift? It’s late, but he doesn’t seem bothered by that at all. I quickly nod my head because of course I want to, but then I look over at the drunk guy, the one who’s started to groan and shift a little bit on the stool.

Almost everyone else has cleared out by now, and damn it, I gotta get this guy out of here so I can hang out with Maverick.

Oh my God, we’re going to hang out.

I hold up one finger to tell him to give me a minute and slide closer to the other guy at the bar. I gently rock his shoulder, and he groans, sitting up a little, his eyes red and bloodshot. But he grins, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. “Well, hey, cutie. Did you decide to take me up on my offer?” His words are slurred, and I can’t stop the quick laugh that falls from my lips.

The guy had been flirting with me since he got here, but despite him being fairly good-looking and really not threatening at all, I just wasn’t feeling it. He did seem sad though, which caught my eye.

“You need to call an Uber, so you can go home and sleep it off.”

He reaches out and grasps my left wrist, his eyes full of flirtation. But with the amount of alcohol he’s consumed—he must have started drinking before he got here because we don’t overserve—he looks lost and a little sloppy, his grip loose. “How about you take me home and we don’t sleep?”

Before I can say anything to that, Maverick is right there by his side, his big hand removing the man’s hand from my wrist efficiently and quickly. “How about you don’t touch him without permission?” His deep voice, and the way he’s looking at this guy—kind of like he wants to rip his hand clean off—yeah . . . it does something to my stupid little crush.

This is not good.

The guy, however, is unaffected by the harsh tone and just looks up at Maverick with wide eyes. “You’re Maverick Adair.”

Maverick drops the guys hand and takes a step back from him. I wonder if he’s uncomfortable with this guy recognizing him. Maverick is a damn good racer—I mean one of the best—but he doesn’t seem to love the public persona of it. He’s polite to his fans, but he’s one of the first ones who disappears from the track when the race is over, despite usually being a winner or very close to winning the race.

“I am.” He sits down. “Don’t touch him again.”

Phew.There go those flip-flops of my heart. I try to regain my composure and help the guy order an Uber before I totally embarrass myself in front of Maverick and beg him to marry me right here and now.

I know that’s just his nature—he’s a gentleman—so, of course he isn’t okay with anyone being touched without their permission. But the strong tone, the firm command—whoa, it’s hot as hell.

The Uber driver gets here, and I’m about to help the drunk guy go outside, but Maverick swoops in and offers to help instead. I’m not an idiot, and of course take him up on that as I finish closing up the bar.

When he gets back inside, I’m ready to go, flipping the lights off and joining him by the exit. “So what do you want to do?”

He just shrugs as I pull on my coat and my red stocking cap and matching gloves. “Your place?”

Again, I nearly almost trip over my own feet, and I wasn’t even going anywhere this time. “My place?” I blink up at him, my throat dry and my hands sweating in my gloves.

He smiles at that and then nods. “Well, mine’s pretty far away, and I don’t think anywhere else is open.”

Oh. Right. Of course, my place is the logical answer. Really, what the hell is wrong with me?

“Right. Okay. Yeah. We can go hang out at my place. Of course.”

Thankfully, he seems amused by my babbling. That bodes well for me, I gotta say, because when I’m around this man, I can’t seem to shut up. “Okay.”

He’s so different from me. Not nervous at all. Strong and confident. What I wouldn’t give to have just a little bit of that. But I’m just me. Cooper Moon.

Total hot-mess-express who says exactly what he’s thinking as he thinks it and can’t stop staring at the handsome man right next to him.

This is going to be a disaster.