Page 90 of Maverick

He opens his mouth to argue, but for once, he has nothing to say. He just squints at me and takes another silent sip. We finish our coffee in silence, which should be weird but isn't. Not even a bit. It's comfortable and intimate, and I like it way too much.

Finally, I put my cup on the counter and lean in, letting my hand rest on his side. "Thank you for the coffee. And for last night. You took good care of me. If you hadn't been there, Nan might have tried to help and…"

"I know. I understand. And you never have to thank me for taking care of you. It's my absolute fucking pleasure."

I go up on my toes, intending to give Maverick a quick peck on the cheek. It's a small gesture of gratitude, but I'm still not feeling my best and don't want to risk getting him sick. Just asmy lips are about to brush his stubbled cheek, he turns his head. Our lips meet, and suddenly I'm lost in the warmth of his kiss.

For a moment, I forget about everything else. The softness of his lips, the gentle pressure, the way his hand comes up to cup my face – it's all-consuming. But then reality crashes back in, and I pull away abruptly.

"Sorry," I mumble, taking a step back. "I don't want to make you sick."

Maverick's eyes are dark, his breathing a little uneven. "Worth the risk," he says with a half-smile.

I shake my head, fighting the urge to kiss him again. "No, it's not. You've got important work to do. Can't have you getting sick because of me."

Turning away before I can change my mind, I grab my bag from the counter. "I've got to get to the shelter. Those pups won't walk themselves."

I head for the door, my heart still racing from that kiss. As I reach for the handle, I hear Maverick's footsteps behind me.

"Hold up," he says. "I'm coming with you."

I turn to see him shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door.

"You don't have to do that," I protest. "I can manage."

Maverick doesn't budge. His stance is firm, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm sure you can. You can handle anything you put your mind to. You've already proven that. So how about you just say thanks and let me come?"

"But your work," I protest weakly. "You'll get behind."

For a moment, hesitation flickers across his face. I can almost see the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options. Because I'm right. The man works all hours and he doesn't have time to waste at the rescue. But then he shrugs.

"It's fine," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I won't get that behind."

I sigh, knowing I've lost this battle. My body's too tired to put up much of a fight anyway. "Alright, fine. Let's go."

Maverick nods, satisfied, and leads the way to the elevator. As we descend to the garage, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. It's sweet that he wants to help, but I'm used to handling things on my own.

In the garage, Maverick heads straight for his car. When I start towards my beat-up old car, he shakes his head.

"I'm driving," he insists, opening the passenger door of his sleek sports car for me.

Too exhausted to argue further, I slide into the plush leather seat. As Maverick starts the engine, I lean back, closing my eyes for a moment. Maybe having help isn't so bad after all.

30

MAVERICK

Istand before the judge, my suit feeling too tight, the collar chafing my neck. The air in the courtroom is thick with tension, and I can almost feel Alexis trembling beside me. Across the aisle, Jason slouches in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. His lawyer keeps throwing him warning glances, but Jason seems determined to make a spectacle of himself.

"Your Honor," I begin, my voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on me, "we're here today because Jason Matthews has repeatedly demonstrated his unfitness as a father and his blatant disregard for the well-being of his daughter."

Jason's lawyer jumps up. "Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is making unsubstantiated claims."

"Overruled," the judge says, her gaze fixed on me. "Continue, Mr. Walker."

I nod, gathering my thoughts. "Thank you, Your Honor. The evidence before you paints a clear picture of a man more interested in tormenting his ex-partner than caring for his child."

I wave to the stack of documents on my desk, a duplicate of everything we've already submitted to the judge. "We havepolice reports detailing multiple instances where Mr. Matthews showed up at Ms. Rodriguez's home, intoxicated and belligerent. He's made threats against her life, vandalized her property, and on one occasion, attempted to take their daughter without permission."

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