“Wake up, damn it,” I groan. “Come on Mr. too cool for school.” I stand up and tower over him, kicking at his legs. “Wake up!” I plead one last time, contemplating whether or not it would be that much of an asshole move to leave him here. Just as I’m in the middle of deciding that an asshole move is just what Maverick deserves, his hand shoots up, catching my wrists in a tight grasp. He doesn’t have to pull hard to have my body shooting toward the him. Seconds later, he has me pinned under his arm, sprawled across his chest, lying on top of him.
My heart frantically flutters around in my chest.
His body is solid and every muscle feels toned to perfection against my soft stomach. His silky hair falls lazily over his forehead and his soft blonde eyelashes seem unfairly long and voluminous. Is this money or good genes?
“Dad,” he whispers, and my eyes are drawn higher, unable to avoid just how chiseled his jaw is and how perfectly his cupid’s bow rests atop plump lips. I despise myself for finding him attractive, but he is and it’s irritating. Seems like such a waste, really. A beautiful face, to mask such an ugly heart.
“It’s not my fault,” he mumbles, sounding like a human being for the very first time in his life.
“No. Please,” he mumbles.
“Maverick?”
“I’m sorry.”
His hold on me tightens, and it’s almost sad how much desperation there is in the way he clings to me.
Something is broken in this beast of a man. And no matter how tightly he holds on right now, I know that by the time morning comes, he’ll remember that I’m not the one who has the tools to fix him.
16
There’s a cold draft caressing my neck from somewhere unknown, forcing my eyes to flutter open. The surface beneath me is solid, but soft, and I glance down at an unfamiliar carpet. My upper body cries out as I try to move.
My herculean efforts to get Maverick to bed last night come flooding back to me. I look to my right to see if he’s budged and I’m shocked to see that I’m alone. I scoff at the realization.
He left me sleeping on the floor? Wow. Really classy, Maverick. First class.
I slowly pull my aching limbs up off the floor to stare at the door. He left me sleeping on the floor AND he locked me out? What an ass.
I raise my fists to pound on the door and manage to hit it only once when a small woman opens it. She’s wearing a light pink uniform and bright yellow latex gloves.
“Hi,” I blush, and she nods at me with a kind smile.
“He told me not to wake you.”
Asshole.
“You were both sleeping when I got here,” she explains and I nod, too ashamed to speak.
Walking over to the sink, she picks up a glass and starts to scrub away at it.
“That’s okay,” I smile, getting over the initial embarrassment of the situation. “Is he still here?” I ask, and she nods again.
“Bastard!” I say, under my breath, but the word is out clear enough to raise her brow.
“You can still run for the hills, you know.”
“I’m not much of a runner,” I joke and her eyes twinkle.
She sighs. “You ladies these days sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“I’m actually not his girlfriend,” I blush, and she covers her face and starts to apologize.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, looking a little ashamed by her assumption. “I just assumed because you were so both cuddly when I got here that....”
“No don’t apologize. It’s okay. You’re not far off.”
“Not far off?” She sets the glass in her hand down to pick up and dry another.
“I’m his wife.”
Her fingers go limp and the glass slips and falls with a crash to the floor. But that’s not the thing that startles me the most.
“Why the hell are you still here?” I turn around to see Maverick leaning against the wall wearing nothing but sweatpants and a hard frown.
“You’re welcome,” I growl at him and he scoffs.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, you’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“Do you even know how you got home?” I ask, trying hard not to shout. And trust me, it’s a hell of an effort because I am mad. Furious! Livid!!
“Do you want me to thank you for doing your job? What do you think this is?”
I can’t believe him.
“You’re being paid, Beth. You’re welcome. Now get the hell out of my house.”
17
“Maverick, she said she was sorry. You know how she is. She doesn’t like the idea of sharing you with anyone but me.” Suzanna is at my desk, interceding on Jessica’s behalf for her bad behavior at Slate.
I glance down at her stooping by my side with her hair cascading around her shoulders and her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth.
“I’ve told you both before, I’m not yours to share. Either of you.”
Suzanna flinches and I pull my arm away from her just as Beth walks into the room. If I didn’t hate the idea of being married to her as much as I do, I might admit that she looks like a million bucks personified.
Suzanna jumps up and stares at her, trying to hide her shock at the highlights in Beth’s hair.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she hisses. “Did you use a sharpie to get that done?” Jealousy drips like hot honey, coating each word in a mess of envy.
Suzanna takes the seat across from me, marking territory that isn’t hers to mark. In classic Beth fashion, Beth ignores her and glances up at me before looking away. Our earlier argument replays in my head and I roll my eyes at the reality awaiting me.
In the midst of the chatter of seniors waiting for class to begin, the intercom goes off and Beth and I are both summoned to the Dean’s office. She grabs her things and bolts through the door like a fish being returned to water.
Maybe she’s eager to get to the office. Maybe she’s just trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Either way, it’s not much of my concern. I slowly follow behind her, not in much of a hurry to get there.
I stop on the way, swallow a drink of water, have a chat with a few of the guys already gathered in the halls. If you were to say I was dragging my feet, you wouldn’t be wrong. The fact of the matter is, neither Hamm nor Coach give a damn about the time I’m wasting being married to Beth, so who am I to respect their time?
I take a few more unnecessary stops before turning in the direction of the office. Just as lazily as I made my way here is as lazily as I swing the door open.
“Good morning.” I smirk at the secretary at the front desk. Her cheeks tint a little at the sound of my voice. She’s young. Barely old enough to be working here, but too old to still be in school.
“They’re all already inside,” she says, her voice stuttering just a little. I wonder if the same rule about not banging your teachers applies for other members of staff.
“You wanna join us,” I throw over my shoulder. I don’t have to turn around to know that she’s blushing beet red.
If I was in a good mood before, all of that goes to shit the minute I enter the office, walking right into the déjà vu from hell.