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“Yeah. I’m good.”
“Good.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder and points to the two men perched on the couch. “These are my friends.”
“I’m Reid,” the first one says. He’s smaller than Dallas, shorter and less broad, with red hair and thick glasses. Cute, too, with freckles across his nose and bright green eyes. His skin is fair and his smile is kind. “I’m the social media manager for the Titans.”
“I’ve seen you around.” I take the empty chair by the fireplace and cross my legs. “You’re always staring at your phone.”
“I don’t know how you would notice that,” Dallas teases. “You’re always staring at your camera.”
“Because it’s my job,” Reid and I say in unison.
“Great minds think alike,” I laugh, and he lifts his beer in my direction.
“And that’s Maverick Miller,” Dallas says.
Overwhelming is too soft a word to describe him.
He’s bigger than any hockey player I’ve ever seen, with tattoos down his left arm and a big red heart on the back of his hand. His dark hair is messy, his smile is boyish, and there’s something charismatic about him that makes it difficult to look away. He’s attractive, yeah, alarmingly so, but there’s also an air of easiness in the way he moves. Like the earth would bend to him if he asked it to.
Maverick walks toward me with the smug confidence of a man who knows he’s God’s gift to the world and drops to his knees. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“Maven,” he says with a deep and rumbly voice. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Maverick.”
I sneak a glance at Dallas, and he’s watching us. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are narrowed into tiny slits. He looks annoyed, but when I blink, the irritation is wiped clean from his face.
“You know, Maverick, you’re exactly where every man should be—on their knees,” I say.
“I’ll stay here forever if you want. I’m a man who likes to deliver,” he says with a wink.
“I think I’m going to pass. I can’t handle another average encounter with a guy who thinks he knows what he’s doing with his stick, but really, he can never find the net.”
Maverick pops on his feet and grins from ear to ear. “You’re good, Maven Wood. I like you already, but I canalwaysfind the net.”
“We get it. Women love you. Zero complaints. Hooray for Maverick.” Dallas sets June down, and she runs straight for Reid. “If you ever need anything while I’m not here, you can always call these two. Maverick lives on the other side of the building, and Reid can leave the stadium a lot easier than I can.”
“It’s nice to meet you guys,” I say.
“The pleasure is all ours.” Maverick stalks back to the couch and sits down, stealing June out of Reid’s arms. “How do you like working for the Titans?”
“I love it. Being on the field is a totally different experience than up in the stands, and I think I took three thousand pictures at the scrimmage. I’m afraid I’m going to use up a whole memory card next week for the first home game.”
“Just make sure all of your photos are of me,” Dallas says.
“You’re on the field less time than anyone.” Maverick lets June play with the silver chain around his neck, and he fixes the tiara on her head. “No one wants to see your face.”
Reid shoots me an apologetic look. “You’re going to hear these arguments a lot. It’ll be nice to have someone to suffer with.”
“I’m going to start the burgers. Keep talking, and see if you get fed,” Dallas says.
“Want some help?” I ask, and he smiles.
“From the girl who caught a paper towel on fire the other day in the toaster oven? I’d love some help. JB, you’re going to hang out with Uncle Mav and Uncle Reid while Maven and Daddy cook some burgers, okay?”
June nods, too busy tracing the shapes on Maverick’s arms to listen to him.
“Sorry,Daddy.” Maverick smirks. “JB has a new leading man in her life.”
“Insufferable,” Dallas mumbles, and he gestures toward the kitchen. “Shall we?”
