I’m finding Maverick’s bossiness to be awfully hot for some reason.
Whenever Craig tried to boss me around, which was far too often, it made me want to run as fast and as far away as possible.
But right now, comfortably seated in Maverick Court’s truck, I don’t have any desire to go anywhere else.
Chapter Nine
Maverick
The woman from outside the courthouse is now sitting in my truck.
Hannah Walsh is apparently my stowaway. And she’s a runaway bride.
I try not to think about how I couldn’t take my eyes off of her the first time I saw her—and again just now.
Because the truth is…she’s screwing up my road trip plans.
I know how much pressure I’m going to be under as a rookie baller, and once training starts, there won’t be a lot of time to relax and do nothing.
This trip is supposed to be my time to do whatever I want, the first period in my life that I can remember having this kind of freedom.
But the rain is bad. I’m not reckless enough to try to drive Hannah back to L.A. tonight. And I can’t go forward. It will take me twice as long to get anywhere in this weather, which is showing no sign of letting up anytime soon.
I’m not the world’s nicest guy, but I’d never leave a woman stranded on the side of the highway with nothing but a soaking wet wedding dress on her back. A white wedding gown that doesn’t do much to conceal her smoking hot body.
If I hadn’t found her so damn attractive, maybe I’d be able to stay rational and keep my dick out of this.
I run my hand down my face in frustration as I pay for our coffees.
And what’s with her interest in the damn bobblehead from Chance? If she doesn’t like football, then why would she approve of me having a Brady accessory? Maybe she likes him from one of his commercials or something.
Anyway. That’s way too much fucking time I just spent analyzing something that’s not important. Whatisimportant is figuring out what I’m going to do with her.
As I jog back to the truck, I contemplate what to say.
I’m cold and soaked from the rain, and I’m still thrown off by the fact that Hannah is the woman from the courthouse.
And as I hop into the truck and hand Hannah her coffee, what comes out is, “I can’t take you all the way to Chicago with me.”
Her lips part in understandable surprise. “What? I’m not going to Chicago.” She shakes her head emphatically. “I’ve never left L.A. I didn’t purposefully leave L.A. tonight. I just wanted to get away from the courthouse.”
I let out a slow breath and put my coffee in the console cup holder. “I didn’t quite mean it like that. What I meant to say is—I’m on my way to Chicago. I’m moving there.”
“Oh.” The word comes out in a rush of air like she’s deflated.
“Right. So I can’t take you back to L.A. tonight due to the rain. And tomorrow, I was planning on getting an early start. Headed east,” I add to further make my point.
“Right. Of course.” Her head is down now, and she’s staring at her fingernails like they hold the answer to her problems.
Feeling like shit but too far in now to back out, I keep going. “I think we should check into the motel down the street for the night. You can shower and warm up while I go grab us some food for dinner, and then we can figure out how to get you back home.”
She lifts her head, her eyes now wild with panic. “I don’t have a home anymore.”
I clench my jaw, at the end of my patience. “Well, then we’ll figure out an alternative.” I turn away from her and start the truck up. “But first, we’re going to check into the motel.”
“Two rooms,” she says in that husky tone that apparently gets me instantly half-hard.
“Of course.”
