Page 81 of A Little Complicated

Maybe. Ophelia, you’re dating Archer, so you probably know Maverick better than any of us. Does he really seem like the jealous type? And if not, how do I get on his radar?

I stay quiet, stewing in my own misery as I read over the messages without bothering to respond. Then again, there’s no need because Emily is especially chatty tonight.

Emily

You could always hook up with him. There’s no way he’d turn you down if you offered up a no-strings-attached arrangement.

Bile floods my throat, and I toss my phone onto my bed, roll out of it, and head to the kitchen.

I’m annoyed. I shouldn’t be, but I am.

After our impromptu truth or dare session at the rink today, I can’t stop thinking about Maverick. About our kiss yesterday or how he admitted his name had never sounded sweeter after I whispered it during said kiss.

It’s confusing and so freaking infuriating I don’t know what to do with myself. But what’s worse? It’s the fact that Archer and I are currently drowning in the biggest fight of our relationship, and even now, I’m too caught up on all things Maverick to care.

What iswrongwith me?

Grabbing the book I’ve been reading from the kitchen table, I tuck it under my arm, snatch a sleeve of Oreos from the pantry, and open the sliding glass door leading to the back patio, anxious for a distraction from my screwed-up thoughts.

Thankfully, the guys aren’t having a game night tonight, so it’s quiet. And boy, do I need it. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be late because the men’s side of the house is quiet too, and their kitchen light is off. As the stars twinkle above me, I tiptoe across the patio when I notice a shadow on the steps. My lungs seize, and I stop short.

The shadow turns around and faces me, an unopened six-pack resting beside him.

“Opie,” Mav grunts.

“Of course, you’re out here,” I mutter to myself, turning back to the door.

Seriously, I cannot catch a break.

“Wait,” he calls.

I freeze, and my head falls forward. “I’m not in the mood, Mav.”

“Mood for what?”

“For whatever hot and cold bullshit you want to throw at me.”

“Someone’s feeling sassy this evening,” he notes. “What are you doing out here? It’s almost three in the morning.” The stairs creak softly as he pushes himself up and strides toward me. “What’s wrong?”

My nostrils flare, but I force myself to turn around and face him. His aftershave teases me, so I breathe through my mouth to keep from salivating at the familiar scent.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Mav prods. “You look pissed.”

“Grace Temple is interested in you,” I announce.

His brows wrinkle. “Who?”

“Grace Temple.”

“Am I supposed to know who she is?”

“She’s my teammate, and she’s interested in you.”

“Oh.” He hesitates. “Okay?”

“Apparently, she gave you her number at SeaBird the other night.”

Confused, his forehead wrinkles and he lifts one of his shoulders. “So?”

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