Page 107 of A Little Complicated

“You’re welcome. Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll get a movie started.”

“A movie?”

“Unless you want to do something different,” he adds.

I shake my head. “A movie’s fine, but…”

“What?”

“You don’t have to stay or take care of me or…” My shoulder lifts. “Whatever. You already more than fulfilled your morsel quota for the day.”

“I think we both know I’m an overachiever.” He winks at me as he heads into the hallway. “I’ll pick a few options and order some food. Are you craving anything?”

Other than you, nothing comes to mind.

“What about the party?” I ask. “They’ll know you’re gone.”

His head pops back through the door. “Reeves is covering for me, so don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

“Reeves knows about us?”

Mav shakes his head. “No, but he knows how to have my back when I need him to. Now, answer the question. What do you want to eat?”

“I’m good with whatever.”

“Good.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and heads back down the hallway, calling out, “Supreme pizza, it is.”

So hedidremember.

Interesting.

I hide my smile beneath the edge of the towel, the stupid butterflies wreaking havoc on my insides. I head to the toilet, grabbing a tampon from the counter.

Yup. It’s official. Maverick Buchanan might be the death of me.

Then again, I think I already knew he would be.

But what a way to go.

33

OPHELIA

“Practice ended an hour ago,” Maverick calls.

“And yours doesn’t start for another two,” I reply, gripping the back of the net and lowering myself into a dip then extending my arms. My triceps burn, but it’s my second to last set, and I want to make them count, which would be a heck of a lot easier if Maverick wasn’t watching me from the bench.

Closing my eyes, I finish my reps, counting in my head.

Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.

With a deep breath, I stand and shake out my arms.

“Damn, Opie. You never quit.”

“I’m almost done. One more set of dips, a set of lateral hops, and I’ll probably call it a day.”

“Probably?” he questions.

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