Page 69 of Can't Get Enough

“That’s a perfect way to describe it. Pop Pop would be talking over breakfast about seeing Wilt Chamberlain play in Philly, recalling the game in perfect detail, and a minute later didn’t even recognize me.Introducedhimself to me at the table and asked if I liked pancakes.”

Sadness tightens the planes of Maverick’s face for a moment before smoothing out.

“By lunch, he was back to talking shit about Bill Russell and the Celtics. That chain you’re talking about popping back on.”

“I guess I’m getting more and more afraid of the time when that chain doesn’t pop back on,” I confess.

“I’m so sorry, Hendrix,” Maverick says, the words rough with emotion. “I hate you’re having to go through this, that your mother is going through this. It’s… it’s hell.”

The gentle rumble of his voice, the empathy in his eyes, make my vision swim with tears. I blink to keep them from falling, but one escapes, slicking my cheek. Before I can wipe it away, Maverick brushes his thumb under my eye. My breath catches and our gazes tangle. No, it’s more than our eyes connecting. It’s something deep inside merecognizing, drawn toward whatever he hides beneath his confident exterior. We’re both bold, presenting a tough exterior to the world, but it’s what’s soft and secret that keeps bringing us together.

His touch lingers and so does his gaze, slowly skimming my features. There’s growing heat in his eyes and an answering warmth in me that starts low in my belly and creeps up to my heart. I cannot do heart shit with him. I shift my chin so his hand falls from my face.

“My concentration’s shot,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m not sure I can get work done.”

“I had some stuff to do, too, but maybe I was being optimistic.” He runs his hands over his face and exhales. “I’ve been working nonstop on a deal, and my brain is more fried than I’d thought. This quick trip is not just for you ladies. I needed a break from all the shit I’ve had to focus on.”

I glance at him, seeing past the confident set of his shoulders and the tight fade of his hair and the perfectly groomed hands, the expensive casual clothing—looking past all of that, I see fatigue dragging at the handsome face.

“Does this giant ecological footprint plane have Wi-Fi?” I ask, gently bumping my shoulder into his.

“Yeah, of course. You want to work after all?”

“Nope.” I set up my iPad so the screen faces us. “Someone told me I should startTop Boyand I still haven’t made time for it. I got three hours to kill, right?”

His smile comes wide and quick, and I love how it lightens the weariness on his face right away.

“I mean,” I say, “I know you’ve seen it before, but—”

“Oh, no.” He taps the screen a few times, navigating to the streaming site for the show, then angles a look at me that has my toes curling in my sandals. “I’ll watch again… with you.”

CHAPTER 21

MAVERICK

Iknew these ladies were bright, but Kashawn, Nelly, and Hendrix are sponges exploring the cannabis growery, absorbing every detail of the tour. The three of them are taking notes on their phones, capturing photos and videos, and asking Dan, the president of CBD Pharms, all their questions.

“And this is climate-controlled?” Kashawn asks, squinting at the vents overhead.

“Yup,” Dan answers, his shiny black hair slicked into a braid that falls to the middle of his back. “If your founder is growing at a higher altitude, he—”

“She,” Hendrix corrects with a smile, walking alongside Dan up a row of plants in the greenhouse. “All our founders are she.”

“Sorry,” Dan chuckles. “She’llwant to create a microclimate by using a hoop house or a greenhouse.”

They pelt Dan with more questions, and he fields them all. He was one of the first growers I invested in. An Indigenous farmer looking to pivot away from traditional crops and methods to a new market, he proved to be a great litmus test for this kind of investment.

While the ladies study the greenhouse and the myriad parts that make this operation work, I study Hendrix. I can’t stop. I keep surreptitiously seeking her out. The moment we shared on the plane, her crying—it was intense and I haven’t been able to move on from theway I felt tied to her, not just by our shared experience, but by something deeper.

“If you’d like,” Dan says, “feel free to send over the specs for the founder you’re considering and I’ll look them over for you. Give you my assessment of whether she’s ready, where she might need to make adjustments, what are the biggest risk factors, et cetera…”

“Seriously?” Kashawn gapes. “You’d do that?”

“Sure.” Dan shrugs and shifts his gaze to me. “Any friend of Mr. Bell is a friend of mine. None of what you see here would be possible without him believing in me and investing years ago.”

“Don’t make me sound so altruistic,” I say wryly. “I’m a businessman first and saw a fantastic opportunity. None of what we see here would be possible withoutyou.”

“A partnership then,” Dan concedes with a smile. “Either way, we’ve found success working together and I’ll never take it for granted, so yes. I’ll help you ladies any way I can.”

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