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I glanced down at the desk, only looking at him through my lashes. And glasses.
“Yes, I have a feeling you’re right,” he murmured. It was amazing how someone so big could temper his voice to be almost… gentle.
“Bridge is more exciting and alluring than her shoes let on,” Mallory told him.
My head whipped up. “Mallory!”
She shrugged. “What? It’s true. Those shoes are awful.”
Maverick was full on smiling now.
“I like your shirt,” she said, pushing on.
Maverick looked down at his sculpted chest. “Thanks.”
“You’ve only been here, what, a day and you’re getting involved in the community.”
“How do you know I just got to town?”
“Bridge told me all about you.”
“Mallory!” I yelled again. I was probably the new world record holder for the most embarrassing day. “Can you just stop talking?”
“You meet incredible people at this coffee shop,” he murmured, referring to Steaming Hotties.
Oh. My. God.
His gaze was still on me. I could feel it.
“About getting involved in the community, I meant that you’re participating in the Parade of Pooches,” she replied, pointing at his broad chest.
He frowned, tugged at the shirt as if he missed something in the Steaming Hotties script. “Parade of Pooches?”
“Tomorrow is Hunter Valley’s summer parade,” she explained. “The county animal welfare group pairs up with volunteers to walk in the parade with shelter dogs to get them seen and adopted.” Mallory twirled her finger. “On the back. It says you’re a participant.”
He glanced over his shoulder as if he could read what it said, then back at Mallory. “A pet charity? Sure. Sounds like fun. What do I have to do?”
Mallory set her hands on her hips and did a weird lean. “Not sure, but I’d just show up at the shelter in the morning. The parade starts at ten, so before that.” She turned to me, gave me a stupid thumbs up. “He’s handsome and nice. Good job, Bridge.”
I let my eyes bug out, telling her without words to shut up.
“Are we all set with that email?” Mallory asked, finally getting us on track to get out of here.
I nodded. “Yes, all set.”
Definitely. As if. Absolutely not.
She sighed, grinned. “Great. So tell me, Maverick, those guys in your wallpaper photo.”
He jammed his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans, clearly not expecting her whiplash of topics. “My brothers?”
“Three brothers. Wow. You’re all hot as fuck because–what’s the line in that movie?–your father’s a weatherman?”
A deep laugh ripped from him, and I was stunned, comparing him to the growly, pissed off version from earlier. “I’m not sure which movie you’re talking about, but no, our father was definitely not a weatherman.”
Another film reference? The whole movie thing was what got me in this trouble in the first place. I needed to limit Mallory’s screen time like a parent would a toddler.
“Since you’re taken by Bridge and all, tell me about the guy on the right,” she pushed as I gasped at her boldness.
