“She’s clammed up.” Maverick sipped his whiskey. “And she’s pretending our intimacy never happened.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“No, she’s too special to me.”
“I know that.” Sin tossed back the amber liquid.
Leaning back, Maverick crossed his legs. “In high school, she told me she’s never getting married. Maybe I won’t, either.”
Sinclair chuffed out a laugh. “Are you for real? I see you married —to Carly—with five loud children and three stinky mutts.”
Maverick smiled. “Controlled chaos sounds damn fun.”
“You live for a good challenge.”
“I do, don’t I?”
Carly sat at the kitchen table in her parents’ house massaging the back of her neck. Her muscles always knotted whenever she spent any time with her mom. Though she’d tried begging out of this, her mom had insisted.
“It’s business-related,” her mom had said. “Be here by seven. I want to make sure dinner is over by eight thirty. I have plans.”
So, Carly had no choice but to suck it up and go.
“You’re all dressed up,” her dad said. “You look nice, dear.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Over the years, his hair had thinned and his signature moustache had turned mostly gray, but he’d stayed in decent shape.
“She looks morbid,” her mom replied. “You look like you’re going to a damn funeral.”
“I did go to one.”
“Did one of Grandpa’s clients die?” asked her dad.
“A SEAL teammate of Ashton’s.”
“Who?” asked her mom.
“Ashton. Ashton Hott.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” her dad said.
“Doesn’t he go by Maverick now?” Her mom popped a pickle chip into her mouth.
“His college friends nicknamed him that,” Carly said. “Everyone who knew him before Harvard still call him Ashton.”
Her mom scrunched her nose. “What a snob. Harvard is a playground for the elite.”
“Lisa, enough,” said her dad. “He’s been a good friend to Carly.”
Glaring at Ed, Lisa set down her burger. “He’s a total player and he’s been stringing Carly along for years. I read the story in The Washington Post and I caught that news segment. They’re painting him as a friggin’ hometown hero. What a crock!”
“Lisa, he almost died saving those hostages,” said her dad. “Have a little respect, for God’s sake.”
“Shut up, Eddy. Who asked you?”
Carly was about to take a second helping of onion rings when her mom cleared her throat. “You already ate three. Don’t be piggy.”
Her face heated as she held the tongs over the bowl. “Two. I ate two and they were small.” She hated that her mother still monitored her food intake.
