Page 89 of Maverick

"Just think about it," he says. "Interview the candidates Janey finds. If you don't like any of them, we'll figure something else out. But please, at least consider it."

I look at him, really look at him. The concern in his eyes is genuine, and I realize he's not trying to take over or undermine me. He's trying to support me in the best way he knows how.

I take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave my body. "Okay," I say finally. "I'll think about it."

Maverick's face lights up with a smile, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. "Thank you," he whispers.

As if on cue, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. Laughing, I press my hand against it. "Apparently, I'm hungry. In case you didn't know.".

Grinning, he presses a quick kiss to my forehead. "Wait here."

Before I can protest, he's out the door. I hear muffled curses from the kitchen, then the clinking of dishes. A few minutes later, Maverick returns, carefully balancing a steaming mug in his hands.

The moment the aroma hits my nose, I know exactly what it is. "Nan's chicken soup," I breathe, reaching for the mug eagerly.

Maverick hands it over with a smile. "She insisted on making it herself. Said it was her secret recipe for curing all ills."

I take a small sip, savoring the familiar taste. It's like a warm hug for my insides, instantly soothing and comforting. "She's not wrong."

As I continue to sip the soup, Maverick settles on the edge of the bed. His shoulders slump, and he bows his head, looking utterly drained. The weight of everything he's done for me in the past day suddenly hits me.

I set the mug aside and reach out, gently rubbing his back. "Hey," I say softly. "I'm okay, really. You should get some sleep. You've got important work to do in the morning."

He lets out a heavy sigh, nodding slowly. "Yeah, you're right. I should."

But he doesn't move. Instead, he stays perched on the edge of the bed, his back muscles tense under my touch. I continue to caress his back, letting my fingers trace over the hard planes of muscle there. I love the way they flex and relax under my fingertips, a testament to his strength and the stress he's carrying.

After a while, I give him a gentle nudge. "Seriously, Maverick. Go to bed. You need rest, too."

With a groan, he finally stands up. But instead of leaving, he turns to face me, his eyes blazing with an intensity that takes my breath away.

"I want a date, Cadence," he says, his voice low and determined. "A proper date. You, me, dinner, and no one else. No interruptions."

I feel a slow smile spread across my face. Despite my lingering fatigue, a thrill of excitement runs through me. "About damned time," I tease.

His answering grin is both relieved and eager. "Tomorrow night? If you're feeling up to it?"

I nod, my heart racing a little. "It's a date."

Maverick leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Get some rest," he murmurs. "I'll see you in the morning."

As he turns to leave, I catch his hand. "Thank you," I say softly. "For everything."

He squeezes my hand gently. "Always."

I wake up feeling a bit better, though my body still aches. I drag myself out of bed, muscles protesting as I pull on some clothes. The pups will be expecting me, and today, I'm happy about that. It's amazing what one night's sleep will do for a person's attitude.

Stepping out of my room, I'm surprised to find Maverick standing in the kitchen. He's dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, bare feet, a mug of coffee in his hands. The second he seesme he grins, grabs a second mug and plunks it under the fancy coffee machine, then pivots to grab the cream from the fridge. He hands me a perfectly prepared cup of coffee.

"Thank you," I murmur, inhaling the rich aroma. "This coffee is a serious perk of living here. It's got to be hand picked off the side of a mountain jungle and packed in cotton for transport. It's spectacular."

Maverick laughs, stepping even closer, sipping his own coffee. "I've never asked, but that sounds about right. Except I think they also hire opera singers to sing to the beans during roasting. Adds a sense of drama."

I snort out a laugh. "I wouldn't be shocked. Rich people are weird."

Mav looks down at me over the edge of his cup. "Should I be offended?"

"Dude, I've heard some of the shit you've pulled. And I've witnessed a fuck of a lot living here. I say you guys are the perfect example of all the shit rich people can get away with. Case in point? Burritogate."

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