A compliment? “How is that a compliment?”
“Don’t be offended—I find you so entertaining, I’ve considered letting you stay.”
Letting?Letting Me Stay? “How many times do I have to remind you, I paid to be here. Quit acting like you’re doing me a favor.”
He shrugs, leaning against the counter like he’s got all night. “I mean, technically I am. I was here first.”
I sigh and lean back against the fridge, watching him in the dim kitchen light. “You’re kind of grumpy, you know that?”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“You are absolutely grumpy.”
He doesn’t argue. Just crosses his arms over his chest and waits.
I tilt my head. “What happened to you?”
That earns me a flicker of something I can’t read. “What do you mean?” he asks.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then, “That’s a personal question for two a.m.”
I shrug. “You woke me up. I think I’ve earned the right to poke a little.”
“You wokemeup,” he parrots. “I heard you digging through the fridge.”
How? I was super quiet.
Another pause. Then he says, “I don’t like wasting time on things that don’t matter. That’s not being grumpy; that’s being efficient.” He slurps from his water glass. “I came to recover, not make friends.”
“Clearly.”
“I have friends,” he adds, like it’s important I know this. “Plenty of them.”
I do not doubt that—knowing he is a professional athlete, I can imagine that despite his sour mood, people—women—clamber to surround him.
“Do you scowl this much when you’re hanging out with your buds? Or is that a perk for sharingyourcabin?”
He levels me with a look. “I’m here to rehab. Rest. Be alone. Not entertain a parade of small talk.”
I hold my hands up. “Hey, I just wanted a snack.”
Maverick scowls. “And you atemine.”
Lame. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
His wide shoulders shrug. “Probably not.”
I narrow my eyes. “You really don’t do casual conversation.”
“I don’t see the point in talking for the sake of it.” He shakes his head, rinsing his cup in the sink and setting it aside to dry. “So what do you do? You didn’t actually tell me.”
“Do? What, like, for work?”
“No, for fun,” he deadpans. “Yes, for work.”
Jeez, he’s grumpy in the middle of the night. I blink. “I am a wedding planner, actually. And I plan events.”
