If you’re not pregnant by the time I see you next, I’m going to scream
Amelia
Catalina
Carter said, and I quote, “Tell her Mav’s probably already pacing the parking garage because he’s a little bitch.
Amelia
Anyway, if I disappear, it’s probably bc I murdered a man.
Layla
Do it.
I choose not to answer, throwing my phone back into my purse. My boot taps aimlessly against the vinyl flooring.
Where the fuck is this asshole?
Rex meows loudly in his crate.
“I know, baby,” I say, crouching down to look at him. “We’re waiting for this dickhead.”
Just as I’m admiring my furbaby, this loud, obnoxious voice slices through baggage claim.
“HI BABYYYYYY!”
I flinch.
A woman next to me becomes startled by his shrieking voice, dropping her iced coffee.
Maverick Hayes.
Walking through baggage claim with his head held high, as he walks in long strides, his blue eyes locked on mine.
I stand there with my arms crossed, analyzing him.
He’s wearing short, black shorts, showing off his toned quads. Every step he takes, I can see each defined muscle contract with each stride. A crisp white tee hugs his broad frame, practically about to rip due to how fucking big he is. A tattoo sleeve snakes across his right arm, black ink swirling down from, I assume, his shoulder, to his wrist.
His shaggy blonde hair peeks out from under his backward black baseball cap.
And his face? Covered with a shit-eating grin.
He looks good.
Shut up, Amelia.
“You miss me?” he calls out again, walking toward me with his arms stretched wide.
I narrow my eyes at him, my arms still crossed tightly around my chest.
“Subtle,” I say dryly as he gets closer.
He stops a foot away, still beaming, as his eyes scan me from head to toe like he’s drinking me in. His gaze lingers on the sliver of my thigh exposed through a slight tear in my tights, then flicks back to my face with a little twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“Damn,” he says, voice dropping lower now that he’s close. “You look even better pissed off.”
“You’re late.”
