“Mav,” I moaned, licking my lips, chasing the taste, desperate for more.
He knew it too and held the other half of the cookie, feeding it to me while I let my eyes roll back in pleasure.
“That is some serious food porn right there,” Briar remarked, voice a bit husky as he took the seat on the other side of me. “Might need to get you two an OnlyFans page if you keep that shit up.”
“If people are willing to pay me to kick back in a comfy chair and let my gorgeous mate feed me cookies, then set that shit up, along with the gym membership I’ll need after each session of him stuffing me,” I said, grinning over at Maverick, who purred in response, clearly pleased that I liked his confections.
“Seriously though, that last batch was fire,” Briar said. “You outdid yourself with those tweaks you made. That coconut milk made all the difference in the world.”
“Yeah, it did,” he concurred. “Now I get to nibble them and enjoy being entertained by our mate.”
“Alright,” I said, “if it’s a story you want, it’s a story you’re gonna get. Once upon a time…”
“Seriously?” Maverick snickered. “You’re really gonna kick it off like that?”
“Better than it was a dark and stormy night,” I said, flashing him a wink.
He blew a raspberry at me, complete with a couple of crumbs that I brushed off my blanket. “Okay, sheesh, you’re supposed to say it, not blow cookie bits all over me.”
“Then get with the storytelling already,” Maverick insisted. “The real story, instead of teasing us with preludes.”
So much for my stalling tactics; I should have known they were too smart for that.
“Fine. Growing up, one of my favorite things to do was go skateboarding in the rain. It made everything slicker, so my board went faster, especially on a downhill, but the best part was the way everything smelled, especially first thing in the morning, just as the sun was coming up and the bakeries were filling the air with the scent of fresh-baked bread and Danishes.”
Pausing, I took a sip from my thermos, fondly thinking back to those days.
“I wound up spending more of my lunch money at one of the bakeries than I did at school, which was probably a good thing,since the pizza tasted like cardboard with burnt cheese on top, and the hot dogs were always soft and a little bit mushy from sitting in a tray of water for so long. Freshly buttered croissants—now those were amazing. I’d skate along, face misted by the rain, taking the occasional bite out of my croissant as I rolled down by the docks to finish watching the sun come up. That was my morning ritual all through high school, even on the weekends. Wake up early, skate through my neighborhood with music blasting in my ears, grab something for breakfast, then head down to the docks to see the sun light up the ocean. No matter what else happened over the course of the day, somehow it wasn’t that bad.”
I was sure there were melted marshmallows in the cocoa, and not the hard little dried ones either. The creaminess lingered on my tongue, right along with the chocolate, making every sip taste like a bite of candy.
“This one Saturday morning I got down there earlier than normal, shoved my board beneath my favorite bench, and was just unwrapping my breakfast sandwich when this old guy showed up whistlingHakuna Matatawith all the festiveness as if the song had been Jingle Bells. He had this old guitar case on his back, battered to hell, covered in bumper stickers from a bunch of places I’d never even heard of. He sat down on the bench a few feet away, smiled at me, and gestured to his guitar.You don’t mind if I play, do you?He said, and I said, No,sir, because I couldn’t think of a better bonus to the morning.”
The way they listened, staring into the flames, never interrupting, not even to ask questions, was different from any kind of sharing I’d ever done before, but not in a bad way. I loved having their undivided attention while still getting to tell the story at my own pace. It let me recall some of the details I’d forgotten and put a smile on my face as they started coming back to me.
“Something about those first notes drew this seagull over. Oddly enough, he wasn’t the only bird to stop and listen. These crows landed on the railing a few feet away; there were a pair of them at first, but then a third one joined as he started singingDock of the Bay. Talk about a perfect song, given the moment and the way the waves were just a bit choppy as they crashed against the pylons. I was so into the song that I didn’t notice the seagull creeping closer. Hell, I was barely paying any attention to that breakfast sandwich, despite it being a favorite of mine. Sausage, egg, and double cheese on a fresh-baked English muffin, butter slathered on one side, apple jelly on the other. His playing—it just mesmerized me. Next thing I know, there’s a beak in my face and wings flapping air all over me as that damned seagull tried to snatch that sandwich from my hands. Old guy was still playing, but I could barely hear it or him singing over that gull screaming at me to give up the goods.”
Giggles from Maverick and a snorting chuckle from Briar were the only response to my story while I sipped some more cocoa, gathering the last of my words so I could tell them how it all played out. Others might have assumed that it was over or, at the very least, asked, but those two just sat there while we watched our Yule log burn, patient and enjoying the crisp beauty of the night. Every now and again there would be a louder crackle than the rest, usually followed by a pop and a burst of embers shooting into the air like fireworks.
“I’ve never tried to scarf something so fast in my life. Hunched over on the bench, feeling wings smack the side of my head as it tried to shove a beak under me, I was certain that bird was going to start pecking me at some point, but just when I was about to give up and let him have it, I heard cawing, like lots of it, and squawking too. When I looked up, there were those crows, chasing that seagull away. And that old guy, he never stopped; he just moved fromDock of the BaytoHotel California,witha brief pause in between, to look at me, chuckling, as he asked if I’ve got something shiny on me. I pointed to the skateboard pin on the collar of my jacket, and he goes,‘You should give it to them as a thank you. They like shiny things, and they remember the people that were kind to them’. So, I took it off and set it on the railing, finished the rest of my sandwich in peace while I listened to him play, and after a little while, those crows, who’d chased that seagull way the fuck off the pier, came back to listen some more. And when they left, they took the pin with them. Sometimes I wonder if it’s in a nest somewhere. I hope it is; it was cool, but so were they, and so was that whole morning. I’ll never forget that old guitar player. Never saw him again after that either; I guess he was just passing through, but man, his voice was almost as amazing as his playing. There ya go, that’s my story; it’s kind of a favorite too, along with the time I came home to find my dad trying to unstick himself from the kitchen chair.”
Mav howled with laughter at that, while Briar started cackling. “That’s gotta be your round two story,” Briar said. “Seriously, you can’t tease us with that and not share it.”
“Fine, but the two of you owe me stories now too, and it’s not fair to think a shared one is gonna cut it; you each gotta share a different one.”
“Fair enough,” Briar said, still chuckling, “as long as Mav promises to share his Jell-o wrestling one.”
“Ohh, you had to go there, didn’t you?” Maverick replied in between giggles. “Alrighty then, game on, Briar-Bear.”
“Briar-Bear?” I sputtered, sending cookie bits on Maverick this time, while Maverick just giggled harder.
“Trust me, you are gonna die when he tells that tale,” Maverick said, settling back in his seat. “As well as how he earned himself that nickname in the first place.”
I couldn’t wait to hear about it and the Jell-O wrestling too. One night and I was already hooked on this tradition of theirs and looking forward to many more Yule logs and storytelling sessions to come.
Chapter 15
Maverick
