“Of course you do. Fits you better than ‘smug shithead.’”
“I like that too.” He laughs, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “You talk a lot when you’re uncomfortable.”
False. “I talk a lot when I’mannoyed.”
“There’s no difference.”
This was supposed to be a break. A mental detox. A quiet, soul-reviving staycation filled with tea, face masks, and perhaps one or two melodramatic cries.
He leans back in the chair, adjusting the ice pack like the conversation is physically draining him. “Look. I’m not trying to be rude, but neitherof us rented this place to host. I rented it to bealone. You’re not part of the itinerary and could have left when you found out it was double-booked.”
“Leave and go where?” I throw my hand toward the trees. “Pitch a tent and hope a bear helps me set it up?” Because trust me, they’re in there by the dozens. I’ve woken up plenty of mornings with them digging through the dumpsters of my apartment complex.
Maverick raises his brows and cocks his head toward the opposite direction, toward Moonrise at Star Lake.
“If I could spend thousands of dollars for several nights of silence, I would have. Okay, pal? We’ve already covered this topic. Move on from it.” Not all of us have NFL money—not that I have a clue about the balance of his bank account.
“Which—by the way,” I go on, totally triggered. “I don’t actually knowfor sureyou play professional football. You could be lying.”
His mouth twitches like he’s holding back a laugh. “Sure. I blew out my knee for shits and giggles.” His exhale is sharp and long as he adjusts his ice pack. “I’m just saying—if it were me? And I showed up to a rental and someone was already here? I’d leave.”
“Well, congratulations,” I say brightly. “You’re a better person than I am.”
“I didn’t say I was a betterperson.”
“It’s definitely what you meant.”
His gaze flicks over to me again, heavy and unamused. “I meant I wouldn’t stick around where Iclearlywasn’t wanted.”
Ouch. Direct hit.
I suck in a sharp breath and look away, pretending to admire the lake again so he doesn’t see the pain behind my eyes.
He’s not wrong.
He just didn’t have tosayit. Period.
Chapter 4
Maverick
I’m going to stay out of her way, she’s going to stay out of mine.
Easier said than done . . .
And it’s obvious we need rules because it’s been twenty-four hours since this whole double-booked-cottage disaster kicked off. Hours of frosty silences, aggressive door slamming, and the sounds of her scrolling through her phone from the couch—in a volume loud enough for me to hear everything—waiting for the callbacks from the housing company. Calls that are undoubtably never going to come. Not from my rental company. Not from hers.
It’s obvious: No one is coming to fix this mess.
Not anytime soon.
So yeah—we need some goddamn rules.
And I love rules.
Rules are boundaries. Rules keep you from losing your goddamn mind when a woman with big eyes and bigger opinions takes over half your house and acts as ifyou’rethe inconvenience.
“I’m putting some ground rules on the fridge,” I announce, scribbling them onto the back of a flyer I found in a drawer. “So we don’t kill each other.”
