Page 54 of Can't Get Enough

“Maverick and Bolt attended my venture capital fund showcase last week,” I say.

“Ahhh.” Chapel’s unreadable expression catches my notice because her face is always completely open. I never have to guess what the woman is thinking, but now she is inscrutable in a way I have never seen before.

“You want a drink?” Maverick asks us.

“Yes, please,” Chapel answers, smiling at the bartender. “Can you do a Lemon Drop?”

“In my sleep,” he answers, shifting his attention to me. “And you?”

“French 75,” I say.

“No Golden Cadillac this time?” Maverick asks, smiling.

“That was an unusual night.” I pause to look down at the floor as the remembered stress of my mother’s phone call tightens my middle again. “In a lot of ways.”

“Any of those support groups appeal to you?” he asks, the teasing fading and replaced by concern.

“I haven’t looked at any yet.” I raise my hands in defense before he gets the chance to chide me. “I will. I promise.”

“I didn’t send those groups to give you one more thing to do. I wanted you to have the information at your fingertips when you’re ready and need it.”

“I know. Thanks again.”

“How’s your mother?” he asks.

“She’s pretty good. I think I told you my aunt is having surgery?” I wait for his nod and then go on. “That’s not for several weeks, but I’ll visit next week just to check on them.”

“That’s good.” He grabs my hand and squeezes. “You’re a good daughter.”

That small encouragement draws a smile from me. He answers with a smile of his own, and we’re not looking away when I’m sure we should be by now.

“Ahem.” Chapel clears her throat pointedly and snaps a look between us. “Looks like our drinks are ready.”

I drop Maverick’s hand like a hot poker and force myself to concentrateon not liking him. Sure enough, all three drinks are lined up on the bar waiting. Chapel grabs her Lemon Drop and hands my French 75 to me.

“You ladies grab something to eat if you want to.” Maverick gestures to the table laden with food. “Lemme see if Pop needs something stronger than that weak beer he’s had for the last hour.”

As soon as he leaves the bar, Chapel grabs my wrist and tugs me a few feet away.

“What’s going on, Hen?” she whispers, searching my face in the discreet lighting of the luxury box.

“Um, what do you mean?”

“I mean…” She glances over her shoulder, presumably to make sure we’re not being overheard. “With Maverick Bell.”

I feel my face shutter. I know my lips pinch and the muscles of my shoulders tighten. I’m like a turtle crawling into my shell to protect myself from attack. It’s not an attack, though. It’s a question layered with concern. Nothing close to the inquisition my body is processing it as.

“Nothing’s going on.” I shrug and take a sip of my drink. “You know we met at the party.”

“You mean at Zere’s party?” She drops Zere’s name as if reminding me of her existence.

“Of course at Zere’s party. What are you implying?”

“I met him at the same time you did, but somehow he’s been to Atlanta to see you since.”

“Not to seeme. To attend Aspire’s showcase.”

“And apparently you’re texting each other now?”

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