He chuckles as he slides a glass of water toward me without asking. “You a whiskey girl, beer, or what?”
“Tequila,” I answer.
Sure enough, his brows lift a fraction. “Alright, tequila it is.”
Maverick leans a forearm on the bar. “Put it on my tab, Reed. And whatever I’m having.”
“Maverick, don’t get shit faced in my bar again, please,” Reed sighs, grabbing bottles.
We take our drinks to a small corner table, away from the louder crowd. Rex curls into my lap immediately, purring.
“So,” I say, cutting my eyes toward Maverick, “are you gonna tell me why I’m here, or am I supposed to guess?”
He smirks over the rim of his beer. “Patience, dollface. We’ll talk when we’re alone.”
I huff, swirling the tequila in my glass.
He leans forward on his elbows, clapping his hands. “Alright then, small talk timeee. Favorite color?”
I twirl a strand of my hair around my finger. “Dark green.”
He grins. “Oh, wow. I’m actually shocked it isn’t black.”
I roll my eyes at his assumption.
“Favorite movie?”
“Scream. Ghostface is hot.”
Maverick gasps, holding his hand to his chest. “His mask scares the shit out of me, but I can wear a mask for you, dollface.”
I shoot him a glare. “In your dreams.”
He laughs, keeping the questions going. “Favorite band?”
I pinch my brows together, scowling. “Do you ever shut up?”
He grins. “Nope. Favorite flower?”
I pause, just long enough to make him think he’s won, then smirk. “Green lilies.”
His brows pull together. “That’s not real.”
“I know.” I throw back the shot, savoring the way his grin falters for once. “That’s the point.”
“Favorite food?”
“Coffee.”
“That’s not in the food group, dollface.”
“Works for me.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, you make it really hard for a guy to get to know you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be known.”
He leans back, beer in hand, and studies me like he’s already decided this is going to be his favorite game. “Yeah… we’ll see about that.”
