Page 38 of IOU

Look at Boss being all paternal.

I flash him a confident grin. “I’m fine, and I won’t be there too much longer. Maverick’s friend is looking for a place for me to stay. Me staying at his apartment is only temporary.”

I don’t know why I added that last bit, but I felt like I needed to justify what we’re doing. It’s not like I’m banging him, but if I were a dad, that would be the first place my mind went.

That big head of his tips just a little before he nods. “You’ll let me know if you have any problems with anyone.” It’s not a question. My fire-savior is my very own Thor—protector of my Universe. I’m legit living a Disney movie. I have a genie and an Avenger.

“Will do, Boss. Now, I gotta run. I have a class to get to.”

I stand to leave and look at Kyle, who is already reaching for my plate. “Sorry,” I mouth. He waves me off, and Bostic grunts like I’m ridiculous by feeling sorry for the trainee.

“I’ll see you guys later,” I say, reaching for my bag and pointing from my eyes to Luke’s, letting him know I’m watching him. The shit has been on the phone the entire time I’ve been here. I didn’t even get to speak to him.

Next time.

Right now, I need to get through this next class, and then I’m going to go home and make my magical genie a surprise dinner to show him that I’m not the worthless slug I seem.

Have I mentioned I have zero cooking skills? Like below awful. Once, my mom tried teaching me how to bake cookies, and I mixed up the measurements for salt and sugar. Why do you put salt in cookies anyway? Isn’t the whole point to make them sweet?

Anyway, my cooking Maverick dinner before he gets back from wherever he goes every day—hell maybe—is going epically bad. So bad that when he finally does come home, I’m standing on the kitchen/poker table, waving a dishrag in the air trying to get the smoke detector to shut the hell up before someone calls the fire department.

“Everything is okay,” I assure him.

A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Looks like it.”

Such a smartass. “Who changes the batteries in these things anyway?” I’m out of breath, and my arms feel like noodles.

“The person who’s living with a pyro,” he says smugly, going over to the stove and turning off the switch, which, in hindsight, I should have done before I ran to the smoke detector. Still, given my recent experience, I didn’t want to get Maverick or myself kicked out of this apartment.

“What the hell were you cooking?” His nose scrunches up, and he grasps the pot handle with a dishtowel, leaning it to the left so he can look at the contents.

Oh no. Not now. Not again.

The burn starts at the bottom of my eyelids.Don’t do it, Ainsley. Don’t you dare cry.

“I’m so sorry.” Sniff. “I was trying to show you that I’m grateful for the room and”—hiccup. Fan the blasted smoke detector—“that I’m not such a mess all the time. But—”

He dumps the contents of the pot in the sink, ignoring my emotional outburst and the wailing alarm.

“Is that macaroni?” He sounds shocked. “Were you trying to make mac and cheese?”

A tear streaks down my face just before the proverbial dam breaks. “I can’t even make boxed macaroni and cheese,” I wail. “I truly am worthless.” And throwing the world’s greatest pity party. I have stooped to new lows. “I wanted to make you dinner, but I’m not much of a cook.”

He flips the switch for the garbage disposal and fights an eye roll.

“Get down.”

Oh shit. Now he’s mad. Instead of him coming home to a hot bowl of mac and cheese—that I wanted—he’s angry.

“I’m so sorry.”

The words would sound so much clearer if I could stop sobbing. What is with me? Is this the five stages of grief? Could I be—“Ahh!” My legs are yanked out from under me, and I brace for the impact that never comes.

“What are you doing?” I choke back the fear. At least the tears are gone, and Maverick’s shoulders are ... amazeballs. Like these things are boulders shoved under his shirt. When does he work out?

His answer never comes. Instead, he sets me down and snatches the rag from my hands. “Go get dressed.”

“Oh, no. Are you throwing me out because I really was just trying to say thank—” I stop at the glare he’s giving me.

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