Page 4 of Fumbled Love

“That was on the house.”

Maverick’s curious gaze bounced between us. “Thank you.” I smiled and slid a ten-dollar bill in his direction. “Please let me at least cover the tip.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll let your boyfriend tip me when you’re done.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Good to know.” He smiled, causing a dimple to pop out of his left cheek. I was a sucker for dimples—another reason why I should have avoided the man sitting next to me because he had two.

I sighed and twisted around in my stool. “I guess I should thank you as well,” I said, softening my voice. I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful, but I couldn’t pretend to be enamored with him either. If I were still that same teenage girl who was infatuated with every smile and word that came out of his mouth, then I would be completely on board with this encounter. But I wasn’t that young girl anymore. I was older, smarter, and well aware of how cautious I needed to be with him.

He slanted his head to the side and studied me. “Think of it as a peace offering.” He winked, and we both turned our attention to the end of the bar. A few guys were staring in our direction. Maverick adjusted the beanie on his head and kept his face turned away. His shoulders were hunched forward in tension, and I almost felt sorry for him. He had to know that he would stand out. He was too big, too broad, and too recognizable.

I raised an eyebrow. “Not in the mood to take a selfie or sign anymore autographs?”

He blew out a breath. “While I’m thankful for my fans, I don’t want to spend the next hour talking football or my torn ACL.” He turned and stretched out his injured leg.

Now I felt guilty for calling attention to him earlier. But seriously, how did a hotshot like him think he could blend in with a crowd? Even if you didn’t watch football, you knew who Maverick Cross was.

I cleared my throat and tried to think of ways I could ruffle his feathers because he seemed to enjoy my sarcasm. “Was the lounge at the Four Seasons out of alcohol tonight?”

He turned so his knee brushed against mine. Just that little touch made my body tingle in places it shouldn’t. “So you were paying attention, huh?”

I moved back because he smelled too damn good, and I needed a little space between us so I could think clearly.

“Don’t flatter yourself, buttercup.” I patted his leg, and he lifted his eyebrow. “I know you think you’re someone special just because you know how to throw a spiral, but it takes more than that to impress me.”

His grin deepened. “Is that the extent of your knowledge when it comes to football?”

“You mean that and the fact that you guys can wear tight pants better than most females and probably more padding than those cheerleaders stuff in their push-up bras?”

“Wow!” He scratched his chin while holding in a laugh. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” I made the mistake of looking into his eyes; they were twinkling with humor. I tried hard not to notice every little thing, but it was becoming impossible. “Maybe we should introduce ourselves?” He held out his hand and turned that flirty smile on me. That swarm of butterflies that released in my stomach needed to calm down. “I’m Maverick, but my friends call me Mav.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell I was reaching for that hand. The second our fingers touched, he’d be able to tell how clammy mine were.

Instead, I held my drink up and gave him the first name that popped into my head. “Ivy. Nice to meet you.”

“Ivy?” he repeated as if he were testing out the name. He reached over and grabbed a handful of nuts from the glass bowl. “So, Ivy, do you live in Georgia, or were you just visiting family?”

“Are we making small talk now?”

“Would you rather we talk about the weather?”

“I think I’ll pass.” I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore that little voice in my head telling me that lying about who I was would come back to bite me in the ass. But I was already two drinks in to care if he recognized me or not.

“So, which one is it?”

“Which one is what?” I asked, confused because, clearly, I was losing focus and couldn’t keep up.

“Visiting family or going home?”

“I guess you could say both?” I knew I should quit while I was ahead, call it a day, and put this encounter behind me, but this opportunity was too good to pass up.

God, I needed a therapist. I watched the bartender fill a row of shot glasses for a group in the back. I was tempted to order one for myself to take the edge off.

“What part of Georgia are you from?”

“Aren’t you just full of questions?”

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