thoughts about Maverick are a nice distraction from the crap Craig spewed at me.
No reference?
I push down the panic threatening to overwhelm me. I can ask Professor Mullens for a reference. She never liked Craig. Her letter may not carry as much weight as Craig’s because my area of expertise is so similar to his, but I can’t worry about that now.
And I made the choice to leave L.A. for a fresh start. I can go apply to psychology schools in Chicago. I just need to research the available programs to find the right match. Chicago is a huge city. I’m sure I can find a good option. For now, though, I’m going to enjoy my road trip with a hot guy, a guy who’s already proven himself to be a far better man than the one I nearly married.
Maverick and I step outside and into the hot desert air of Nevada. We walk down The Strip until the sun starts to set, at which point Maverick asks if I’m hungry for dinner.
“Sure,” I say. “I’d love a pizza and beer. You?”
He flicks his gaze over to me. “Are you serious? You like those things?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I slap his arm playfully. “Are you one of those jocks who think women don’t like the same things you do?”
“No,” he says immediately.
I stop and put my hands on my hips. He stops too and cracks up laughing. “Okay, fine. I am. I was.”
I smile triumphantly. “I knew it. You’re too easy to read, Mr. Court.”
His arm snaking around my waist surprises the shit out of me, and I have to bite down on a gasp so I won’t give myself away.
“I don’t come from money,” I tell him as we continue our walk down the street.
Like this is normal for us to be strolling down the street as if we’re a freaking couple.
“Neither do I,” he says. “Understatement of the day, right there.”
I smile. “Well, pizza and beer were affordable for me in college. Plus, I like them. But I started my love of them due to my wallet.”
I can practically feel the unspoken question on the tip of his tongue.
“Just ask me, Maverick.” I poke him. “You know you want to.”
His hand disappears off my hip, and I swallow down my disappointment.
“It’s none of my business,” he says quickly. He nods across the street. “Look—a pizza place. You want to go?”
“I’d love to.”
But the way he abruptly distanced himself from me a moment ago didn’t go unnoticed. And I don’t want to dissect the ache of disappointment in my chest. However, I also don’t want to push the feeling away like it’s irrelevant.
I did that too much with Craig—ignored the way his behavior hurt me until I was simply numb to it. And look where that got me.
So after Maverick and I order at the counter and then take seats at a Formica table inside the dated pizza parlor to wait for our food, I take a small leap of courage.
Every little step I take outside of my comfort zone feels strange, almost like I’m peeling off the old layers of myself and learning what the hell has been underneath all of these years.
“Your confusion about my money issues was on point,” I begin.
Maverick puts up a hand. “I wasn’t saying…”
“Craig was my boyfriend throughout college,” I continue. “And like you probably guessed from your brief meeting, he never hurt for money. He’s older than me by several years, and his family provided him a comfortable lifestyle while he got his degree. I always felt lesser than him. From the very beginning.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.’ Maverick’s jaw tightens. “You’re worth so much more than that bastard.”
I look at him. “We met when he was already halfway toward his doctorate, so I was always looking up to him and trying to play catch up. He was my mentor. In everything.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re still a million times better.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Our eyes catch and hold until Maverick averts his gaze.
He fiddles with the drink coaster in front of him. “Hannah. Look…”
And he’s pulling back from me again.
But I’m not ready to shut down whatever’s happening between us tonight.
“I was only twenty when I got my undergrad degree,” I continue. “I had my master’s by twenty-two. That’s how I ended up working for Craig so young.”
“How old are you?” Maverick finally looks up from the table.
“Twenty-three this week.”
“This week?” He rolls the coaster toward me, and I catch it. “What day?”
Now