I toss my hair into a messy bun, jump into the shower, and scrub and rinse as quickly as possible before I leap out and wrap myself in a towel. Leaning over Leo, I grin. “Look at you. No screams this time. Yay!” The side of his mouth lifts up. “Is that a little smile?”
I can’t seem to coax him to give me a full grin. Realizing I can’t just stare at my kid all morning, I grab his basket and cart him back to the living room so I can grab my clothes. I set Leo down next to the couch and lug my bag onto the coffee table. I don’t know why I didn’t get my clothes earlier, but logic isn’t a strength of mine this early.
“Morning,” a deep, scratchy voice calls out, and I jump.
“Stop scaring me!” My heart races, especially when I turn and find Maverick taking a lazy glance down my body. And then I remember I just squeezed out a child and do not look my best. “Please don’t look at me right now. I feel like a beached whale. Not as bad as when I was pregnant, but too big to fit in my favorite jeans.”
“Don’t talk crazy. You look perfect.” His eyes grow serious. “You’re beautiful, Baylee. I should tell you that more often.”
I squint at him. “Did you hit your head?”
He laughs. “Yeah. Actually, I did. But that doesn’t change what I just said. You’ve always been gorgeous, Bay. I mean it.”
“Tha-thank you.” The old me would be squealing like a lovesick teenager, wondering what this means. But the new me knows better. Maverick hasn’t seen me in a while, so he’s being extra nice right now. Which is all fine and good, but I have bigger fish to fry, namely how I’m going to afford my life—without the help of my pro football player roommate.
Because my mom taught me better than to mooch off friends. Living here is bad enough. But taking money? Staying indefinitely? Treating Maverick like a piggy bank? Hell, no.
I run back to the bathroom to change into some clothes, and when I return, Mav’s playing with Leo. “Look at that grip. What a strong little man.”
I smile. “Don’t let him grab your hair. He won’t let go.”
Mav glances at me and does a double-take. “What’s wrong with that pair?”
“Which pair of what?” I ask.
“Those jeans. You said you don’t fit in your favorite pair, but those look great on you.”
I chuckle. “Careful, Maverick, or I’m going to think you’re checking me out.”
“Who says I’m not?”
Mav’s being weird. “Yeah, okay.” I grab my purse and phone before I head to the kitchen to pack my lunch. “What are your plans for the day?”
He shrugs with a yawn. “Drink some coffee. Stretch. Do my prescribed exercises. Order some delivery. Shower. Watch TV. Scratch my balls.”
I chuckle, loving that he’s being so honest. “You’re not going to stop by the ranch?”
“No. Not yet.” That’s it. That’s all he says.
So much for honesty. I rest my hand on my hip. “Why don’t you want your brothers to know you’re here?”
His expression closes off as he stares out the window. “Didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to.”
“Just… I have a lot of shit to figure out right now.”
I pack my sandwich. “When you’re ready to share that with someone, I’m ready to listen. In the meanwhile, would you like me to make you a PB&J?”
With a groan, he stands from the couch. He closes his eyes, tilts his head one way, then the other. While his eyes are closed, he asks, “What did you eat for dinner last night?”
“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
His eyes open. “And for lunch?”
I clench my jaw. “The same. So?”
He pulls out his wallet and tosses a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Eat some real food. You’re nursing a baby, for God’s sake.”
