Page 77 of The Cupcake Cottage

At least he was pretty sure she was.

He paused to consider the idea of self-sabotage, then discarded it.

“I think she doesn’t like that I’m busy.”

His mom made a sound of acknowledgment but nothing more as she unpacked containers of home-cooked meals into his fridge. She was clearly up to something. The two of them were close, but she didn’t normally stock his fridge.

“Will this be a regular thing now that I live closer?” he asked, gesturing to the growing stack of containers.

“I bought you new bedding. I put it on your account at that new place in Riverbend.”

“I don’t have an account.”

“I started one for you. Expect a bill in the mail at the end of the month.”

“They let you do that?”

“Of course they did.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“Just trying to make this place look as though you’re not about to bolt back to the city.” She cast a glance around, inspecting as she moved through the kitchen and into the living room. “You went a bit overboard clearing out your old life. Even I have a nicer couch than you do.”

She winked at him playfully. She’d allowed him to give her the buttercream leather couch from his beach house as well as a few other items when he’d become fed up with his life being bigger than he was and had downsized it all.

Louis, when he’d heard Maverick was selling off just about everything, had sent him to the team psychologist in fear he was preparing to end his life.

“Why the stuff, Mom?” And why wasn’t she hounding him about the fight? Getting into the nitty gritty of it and helping him figure out what was wrong with Daisy-Mae?

“You need to look settled.”

“Why?” Maverick peeked into the living room again. There was a new painting he hadn’t noticed earlier and a soft-looking blanket thrown over the end of the couch. Add in the plants, food, new linens.

The house didn’t look so sparse any longer. It looked like a home. A home he really liked.

“Wait a second,” he said. “Are younesting?”

“Sweetie, a woman likes things to be cozy and welcoming. She needs to know you’re not going to up and move out on her in the night.”

“Daisy-Mae knows this is my sanctuary. I’m not going anywhere. I have cows.” He gestured toward the kitchen where Kraken was still perched on top of the fridge. “And a cat.”

“The right woman is your sanctuary.” She turned on her heel and he followed her up the narrow staircase. His attention caught on a fern sitting on the windowsill on the landing where the stairs turned. If he wasn’t careful, he’d knock the plant off its perch in the middle of the night. “This is nice.” He picked it up, looking for a spot to relocate it so it didn’t die on Night One.

“Don’t move it. It’ll get too much sun and die.”

With a sigh, Maverick put it back down and mentally wished it luck.

“It likes the north-facing window here, and it’ll do best with less light and more water. Not like the spider plant in your living room. They can survive almost anywhere, as well as being under the care of inattentive owners. I expect you to keep that one alive.”

“Okay.”

She grabbed the broom from the hall, and they went back downstairs. She put the broom away, then headed for the door. “In the fridge is bean salad, fried chicken, biscuits—”

“Mom, I’m in training. No carbs. No fats. At least not most of those.” What was going on? She knew this.

“The food’s not for you.” She patted his flat belly and picked up her purse, which she’d dropped near the door on her way in.

“Hired hand?” Maverick asked.

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