Page 13 of You Owe Me

“Does Maverick know the dean’s son is poking around his business?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

But he will.

And for the first time, I’m not worried about what Maverick might do to someone.

I’m worried about what someone might try to do to him.

Because Carter Mills isn’t just networking.

He’s hunting.

And he thinks I’m a weak spot.

CHAPTER FOUR

Rumor has it, she’s dating an old dude.

Ainsley

By the time I push through the door at Spuds and Studs, Bostic’s already at our usual table, leaning back like he owns the place, which, considering his enormously built body and bossy attitude, he basically does.

I sit, drop my bag, and immediately take a long sip. “Sorry, lab ran long. We were dissecting squid, and I got distracted by their chromatophores.”

He raises a brow.

“The color-changing cells,” I clarify, already too excited. “It was like a live light show in a petri dish. I poked at it for twenty extra minutes. My lab partner thinks I’m unhinged. She wears Crocs unironically, so who’s the real monster here?”

“Come on, Crocs aren’t that bad. I happen to like them.” Bostic reaches for a fry. “They’ve got… ventilation. And sport mode.”

I wrinkle my nose. “No shoe should have modes, Boss. That’s not fashion; that’s a Transformer.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Pretty bold fashion critique coming from the girl who once wore a Save the Whales tee with avocado-stained pajama pants to class.”

“I was making a statement.” I steal one of his fries. “The whales deserved better. And so did my laundry basket.”

Bostic chuckles, then leans back slightly. “How’s your mom?”

I glance up at that. “She’s good. Busy with work, as usual. Still pretending decaf is a personality.”

He barely smiles at that, but it softens his face in a way I don’t see often.

“She asks about you sometimes.” I absently pick at my napkin. “Says you were the only one who didn’t treat her like a cautionary tale when the curtain incident happened.”

“Your mom’s a good woman.” His voice is low and even. “She raised a smart one.”

There’s a beat where neither of us says anything, and then, just a little too innocently, I suggest, “You should come by sometime. She made those lemon bars last week. The ones you liked.”

Bostic gives me a look. Not harsh, just knowing.

“I appreciate that. Maybe one day.”

I nod, tucking the rest of my curiosity away. He’s always careful when it comes to my mom. Respectful. Quiet. But I’m not blind. There’s something there.

Before the silence stretches too long, he clears his throat. “So, how’s Maverick?”

I grin because even just hearing his name makes something in my chest do that stupid squeeze. “Still broody. Still acts like quinoa is birdseed with better branding.”

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