Page 44 of IOU

My watch vibrates, letting me know Ainsley’s time is up. “I gotta go, Pops. Lay off the sodas, yeah?”

“I told you I just have one after supper!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now who’s lying?”

“Get some sleep, Maverick.” His voice turns serious. “I mean it. Iwillcome up there.”

Yes, he will, and no one needs to see my pops knock me down a few pegs. “Yes, sir.” My mother didn’t raise a disrespectful shit.

“Call your brother later,” he says just before hanging up on me. He probably didn’t mean to. His fine motor skills aren’t what they used to be.

I stride back down the hallway, the warm breeze from the balcony invigorating me with excitement. Nah. It’s not the breeze. It’s fucking with Ainsley.

“Time’s up!” I raise my hand to beat one last time when it wrenches open, and I’m met with stunning blue eyes and a wet head.

“Something is wrong with you,” she says, brushing past me and not gently.

I feel a smile tugging at my mouth. “I will shove you off the balcony, Ainsley,” I call after her, the door to her room slamming before I can finish. “You will be out of here before the guys get here.”

I don’t care if she’s upset at having to clear out. Any other day, she can veg out on my couch and consume the Wi-Fi, but not tonight. Tonight is poker night, and no girls—or distractions—are allowed. And the whole keeping her a secret thing ... Let’s just agree that I have more than one reason to need her gone. I need some privacy, like yesterday.

Knowing she ignored me, I open the bathroom door and let enough steam out to power a train. She must have had the water that hot. I’m surprised she doesn’t have third-degree burns.

Not your problem, Maverick.

Wiping off the mirror, I snag the stupid amount of hair ties and scrunchies on the counter and stuff them in my pocket. Why does she need so many—something floats in the toilet, catching my eye.

Squatting, I lean over for a closer look and see that it’s the three IOUs I slid under the door, each one with the letters FU written in what looks to be lipstick.

And ... my dick is getting hard.

Why must her fight turn me on?

I snap a picture—it was funny and brave—before flushing the cards and yanking open the shower curtain. There I round up the eight almost-empty bottles of shampoos and conditioners and—her fucking toothbrush? Who brushes their teeth in the shower? Never mind. Of course she brushes her teeth in the shower. Opening the hall closet, I shake my head and dump all her shit in before slamming it closed.

Do I care if they spill or she can’t find them later? No, because she didn’t bother to hide the shit like I had asked her.

Maybe it’s about time I follow through with my threat to Mike. He needs an IOU for every day Ainsley stays here and not in her apartment. It’s not enough that I don’t have any privacy, but it’s getting harder every day to hide my secrets. I’m tired of living in my bedroom. I want my space back.

Finally, the door slams, and I look up to see Ainsley standing in a bikini—a very tiny bikini.

“Where the hell are you going?”

She puts a hand on her hip, cocking it out just enough to draw my eyes lower than they need to go. “Since you’re banning me from your little sleepover, I’m going to hang out by the pool.”

The hell she is.

“Not the pool here, people will notice you. Go somewhere else to soak up the sun.”

She narrows her eyes. “Fine. I thought you were finding me a forever home. I’m tired of living here.”

The feeling is mutual.

“Why did you say it like you are one of those abused dogs they try to guilt people into adopting with sad music?”

“I’d just like to have a place where I’m not kicked out every Wednesday so my roommate can throw down a spade and belch out a victory jingle.”

She’s in a mood today.

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