Page 93 of Maverick

I’m not sure why she wanted to leave her job as an assistant at a vet’s office, but I’m not going to question it. She’s here, and I’m so grateful.

Molly grins and heads to the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she places the order. I glance back at my phone, Maverick's text still waiting for a response.

The sound of a mop sloshing against the floor draws my attention. Molly's already started on the evening cleaning routine, humming softly as she works. She moves with an ease that speaks of years of experience, though I know she's only been here a short while.

"Hey Molly," I call out, "you've got this under control, right?"

She looks up, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "Absolutely. I'll finish mopping, then do a final check on all the kennels. The adoption paperwork for tomorrow is all set, and I've prepped the meet-and-greet room for the potential adopters coming in the morning."

I blink, momentarily stunned. "Wow, that's... that's everything. You're amazing, Molly."

She shrugs, a small smile on her face. "Just doing my job. You heading out?"

I look down at my phone again, Maverick's text glowing on the screen. "Yeah, I think I am."

As Molly returns to her mopping, I type out a response to Maverick:

Yes. Can’t wait. What time?

His reply comes almost instantly.

I'll pick you up at your door at 7. Wear something fancy.

I grin, my heart racing a little. All my things under my arm, I find myself unable to leave.

"You sure you don't need me for anything else?" I ask, hovering by the door.

Molly looks up, an amused expression on her face. "Go on, Cadence. Enjoy your night off. You deserve it."

I nod, still a little dazed by this new reality in which I can just…relax. Even now, nearly three weeks after I hired her, I’m still disoriented. "Thanks, Molly. I'll see you tomorrow."

As I step out into the fading afternoon light, I marvel at how different things are now. For the first time in years, I'm walking away from the rescue without a nagging worry in the back of my mind. No mental checklist of things I've forgotten, no guilt about leaving early.

Okay, so I'm feeling a little guilty, but it will pass I'm sure. Besides, I've got a date to get ready for, and thanks to Molly, I can focus on just that. It's a strange feeling, this freedom, but I think I'm going to like it.

Thank god I didn't put up a bigger fight. I was fully prepared to play along, humoring Janey as we interviewed candidates. It felt weird, still does, to take money, but that's the nature of the game. Rescues are not profitable. They just aren't. No one gets into it trying to become rich. It's a life of scraping by and making do.

Only now, it's not. Thanks to Brash. Thanks to Maverick. And it opens up a whole world of possibilities.

I pushopen the door to our apartment, the voices hitting me immediately. The scene before me is nothing short of comedic gold.

Nan's perched on the edge of the couch, her face a mask of forced patience as she watches Becca wrestle with a ball of yarn. Becca's tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she yanks at the crochet hook.

"Come on you fucking piece of fucking annoying fucking yarn," Becca mutters, her fingers white-knuckled around the hook. "This is worse than trying to get a knot out of a gi belt after a tournament."

Nan sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Honey, you're strangling that poor yarn. Loosen up a bit, would ya?"

"I am loose," Becca grumbles, giving the hook another vicious tug. "This hook's just being a little bitch."

"Watch your language," Nan chides, then immediately contradicts herself. "And for fuck's sake, stop pulling so hard. You're gonna snap that hook clean in two."

Snickering, I settle onto the couch, earning a glare from Nan that might have worked on me when I was little, but now only makes me laugh.

Becca groans, shaking the hook and yarn. "This is impossible. I think only serial killers would do this for fun."

"It's supposed to be relaxing," Nan says, her tone suggesting it's anything but at the moment. "Though right now, I'd rather be waxing my upper lip with duct tape."

Becca looks up, a slow grin spreading across her face. "You're my kind of lady, Nan." Her gaze sharpens. "You know, you should come to the dojo and take my self-defense class. It's never too late to learn how to protect yourself."

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