Page 27 of IOU

Yes, girl. Be bold. Don’t let him intimidate you.

His brows arch and the smirk he flashes pisses me off.

“You do grant favors, don’t you? Or are they just rumors to get you laid?”

My snippy words only add to his amusement as his lazy gaze moves from my flip-flop covered feet to my tank top.

“I don’t think you have anything I want, waitress.”

Oh no, he did not just refer to me as the waitress again.

“I’m sure you can find something you can take.”

He makes an amused humming noise in his throat as he shuffles the playing cards in between his fingers, never meeting my gaze. “What is it that you think you need?”

The menace in his condescending words knots my hands together. What do IthinkI need? I think I need a new job and a new parking lot—one that Bostic won’t find.

“I-I-I need a place to stay”—okay, so the stutter is new—“and I heard you were looking for a roommate.”

The laugh that erupts from his chest is enough to send a lesser woman home with broken confidence. But not me. I stand tall, waiting for him to wipe the smile off his face as if my being here has been the highlight of his day.

“Tell you what, the rumors never disappoint me.” He shakes his head and steps back, about to shut the door in my face.

“Wait!”

I shove through the small space, wedging my body between the door and throwing away my last shred of dignity. “Look, even if you aren’t looking for a roommate, maybe you know someone who is. Please.” My eyes plead with everything I am. “Please help me. I’m begging you. You’re my last hope.”

Too much to disclose? Probably. But again, I’m that desperate.

Desperate enough not to comment on the substantial annoying sigh he lets out as if giving me two more seconds of his time is painful.

“Fine,” he clips just before bringing the marker to his mouth and biting the cap off. He spits it out at my feet, and I refrain from staring at his tongue snaking out and wetting the spot the cap just left. “Hold your hand out,” he demands.

His voice might be a little scary, and I might be a little scared, but I hold my hand out, as crazy as that is. I wonder if Bostic would be proud or if he would be tempted to kick my ass? I guess we’ll find out eventually—like later tonight at dinner.

Slowly, I stretch my hand out in the small space between us. If Maverick notices the trembling, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he presses the playing card into my palm with his left hand, holding the card flush as his other fingers wrap around me as if he’s making sure I don’t move.

“I assume you know the rules,” he drawls quietly.

I nod and then decide to be honest. “Sort of.”

He scoffs. “You sort of found me, came all the way here to ask for a favor that you don’t know the price of?”

Well, now that he says it like that, it seems as if I was a little hasty.

“I know enough.” I lift my chin just in time to see him smirk.

“Doubtful.”

But he begins scribbling out the first letter—I—on the card. “You will give me your phone and I will write down your number.”

Oh. Well, that’s totally fine.

He rounds out the O on the card. “When I cash in my favor, I will call you and give you a time and a place with instructions. You will not ask questions, and you will do as I ask. There are no refunds for my favors.”

I swallow. That sounds a little dramatic and mob-like.

I nod my consent slowly as he finishes writing the U on the card.

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