Page 90 of IOU

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh! My! God!”

I can’t stop the smile that comes over me. She’s so excited.

“Maverick!”

I scrub a hand over my lips. “It’s sea lions you love, right?”

She swats me on the arm as her eyes water. “Why are you the sweetest asshole ever?”

I shake my head at the confused trainer. Through Sebastian, and a mutual favor, I was able to secure Ainsley a behind the scenes tour at our local aquarium. The animal she’s seeing ... you guessed it. Her beloved sea lions.

“You ready to go in?”

She nods, swiping the tears away. “Am I really going to get to pet one?” Her gaze volleys from me to Matt, the sea lion trainer.

“You can pet them all if you would like,” Matt says, holding the door open.

Ainsley sucks in a breath and looks at me. Her face is flushed and full of anticipation. “I don’t care how many IOUs this will cost me, this is the best day ever!” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Thank you.”

I welcome the heat of her body and hold her tight, breaking all my fucking rules today. “This isn’t a favor.”

She pulls her head back, shocked. “Then what is it?”

I shrug in her arms. I’m not any good at being myself. It feels off. But she deserves the truth, even if it embarrasses me. “A gift. I wanted to make you happy.”

Rumor has it Tucker begged for his life.

The sea lion excursion left Ainsley and me exhausted, but we still managed to stop for ice cream before going home. I couldn’t leave that off. If my goal was to make her happy today, it most definitely had to include ice cream and mac and cheese—but we’ll save that for tomorrow.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says, lifting my chin from looking at my phone. “Maybe you want to join me?” Her smile is honest and real and so damn sexy before it flattens. “Like in a minute. Give me time to shave and condition my hair so I look sexy and not like a prickly raccoon.”

A laugh burst out of me. “I think I can do that,” I manage out.

If there’s one thing I love about this girl, it’s that she’s wholly herself.

“Good,” she manages a little shyly. “Give me about ten minutes.”

I nod when she lets go and watch her dart down the hall and into the bathroom. Ten bucks says she uses my razor.

Back to my phone, I’m answering Pops’s emails about potential candidates to assist me. Although I’m happy he isn’t cutting me off entirely, I’m not so sure about bringing in a stranger to work on my accounts with me. I’m a little territorial. Okay, I’m a lot territorial.

My fingers fly across the screen. Paul is a hard no. I don’t care if he did graduate from Harvard and has been running an independent brokerage for eight years. He looks like he farts in paper bags for fun.

I decide to text Pops instead of finishing the email.

Me: Are you sure I can’t keep managing alone? We only have two months.

I get an immediate response.

Pops: Pops said stop texting him because he doesn’t do this texting thing and therefore has to get me to help him, which ticks him off—his words not mine—because I’m a nosy little shit and get all into his business. He said be happy you got off as easy as you did and pick someone. Coop.

I grin. I had missed them, more than I knew. I start to text back when a knock on the door stops me.

Who the fuck dares to disturb me this late at night?

I yank open the door and there stands the asshole of my eye.

“Uh ... hi. Is Ainsley here?”

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