If we were going to work together for a month, I needed to make things right.
With a towel around my waist, I padded into my bedroom and grabbed my phone off the nightstand, thumbing out a text to her.
Me: Breakfast?
Maven: Where?
Me: My place.
Maven: You… cook?
Me: Told you I’m full of surprises.
Maven: You better not serve me burnt toast. See you in twenty.
Right on time, she knocked on my door just as I finished mixing up my mom’s famous waffle mix. She was a fucking vision in my doorway, wearing a flowy bohemian dress that cinched her waist and framed her slight breasts in two triangle slips of fabric. The skirt draped down to her ankles, but two slits on each side revealed her toned legs beneath. She offered a tentative, almost nervous smile when I answered, her face void of makeup, and only a simple pair of earrings donning her lobes. Her black hair was pulled up into a poof on top of her head, the edges of it styled in swirling designs that framed her forehead and temples.
“Damn,” I said, and I thought I’d said it to myself, but when the corner of Maven’s lips curled softly, I knew I hadn’t. So, I owned it. “Good morning to me.”
“Shut up,” she said, softly pressing her hand against my chest as she pushed past me and into my condo. I shut the door behind her before making my way into the kitchen, and Maven slid into one of my barstools like she’d been there a hundred times, setting her purse on the island.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“And I hope you’re not trying to poison me,” she said, eyeing the goop I was mixing up. I sprayed the waffle maker before dumping the mix in and closing the lid.
“Now why would I do that? You’re working wonders for my brand right now.”
“Well, you did look like you were two seconds from killing me last night.”
My throat tightened at that, and once I had flipped the waffle-maker, I leaned a hip against the counter and crossed my arms, turning to face her.
“I’m sorry, Maven.”
She seemed surprised by the genuine apology.
“It’s fine,” she tried, waving me off. “I—”
“It’s not fine. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”
She swallowed. “Oh. Well… thank you.”
“I just… I am a creature of habit and routine, especially when it comes to game days. I can get a little crazy, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “For making fun of the process. I was curious at first, but then, I admit I found it a bit bizarre.” She chuckled at that. “And then I saw how worked up you were getting and I…”
“You wanted to push my buttons.”
She bit the inside of her lip like she was ashamed. Then, her smile leveled out, eyes searching mine, and I wondered if she was remembering what I’d done after she mouthed off to me.
I wondered what she’d do if I did it again, right now, without all that anger simmering between us. What would her eyes look like if I wrapped my hand around her throat and squeezed just a little bit…
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I like to push yours, too.”
I turned back to tend to her waffle before I got the satisfaction of seeing the look on her face. Once it was on a plate, I dressed it with the sweet cream cheese I’d mixed up, along with the blueberry compote and fresh blueberries and strawberries on top. It looked like a culinary sensation by the time I slid the plate in front of her, and Maven’s eyes lit up.
She eyed me curiously before taking out her phone and snapping a picture of the waffle. She snapped one of me, too, standing at the island with my palms on the counter, smiling at the camera. I had no problem cheesing it up for the public — especially since I wanted my name at the top of everyone’s mind when it came to selecting Rookie of the Year.
Once she had her pictures, she tucked her phone away and forked off the corner of the waffle.
“Make sure you get the berries,” I coached, which made her smile.
Then, she took her first bite, moaning with her eyes closed as I tried not to stare at where her tongue darted out to lick the compote from her lips.
“Hngg,” she said around the mouthful, swallowing before her eyes popped open and locked on mine. “Holy shit, this is good.”
“Always so surprised,” I chastised, but I smiled in victory when I turned away to make my own waffle.
Maven was almost done with hers by the time I sat down next to her with my own, and she rubbed her belly as if it was a beer gut, sinking back in her chair.
“Call me impressed.”
“I thought I was only supposed to call you Maven.”
She stuck her tongue out at me before leaning her chin on her palm, watching as I took my first bite. “So, I take it you and your sister are pretty close. Especially if she loves you enough to do that whole pre-game dance thing every single game.”
“She’s one of my best friends,” I answered honestly, stacking a few berries on my fork. “We were only a year apart in school, so we grew up together with the same friends and the same problems.”
“You ever date any of her friends?”
“Define date.”
Maven snorted. “Pig. Okay, did she ever date any of yours?”
“Never.”
“Never?”
I shook my head. “My friends didn’t want to die, so they stayed away from my little sister.”
“Oh, that’s rich. You can mess around with her friends, but yours are forbidden, huh?”
“Grace is too good for any of my friends.”
Maven smiled a bit at that.
“I take it you’re the oldest of your siblings,” I observed. “You’ve got the first-born attitude, too.”
“Only-born,” she amended, and her face softened a bit. “I was a miracle baby.”
I frowned, swallowing another bite before I asked, “How so?”
“My parents weren’t sure they wanted to have kids when they first got married. They were in AmeriCorps together, which meant they didn’t really have roots set in place. They were so focused on helping other people, they didn’t really think about themselves. But one day, Mom decided she wanted a baby, and Dad has always done whatever Mom wants.” She smiled, making designs with her fork on the leftover compote on her plate. “That’s when they found out Mom had cervical cancer.”
My heart bottomed out in my chest. I wasn’t expecting such a vulnerable admission, not from the woman who had been hard as steel around me.
“They caught it early, thankfully, but the doctors still weren’t sure she’d ever have kids.” Maven looked at me then. “She had two miscarriages before she had me, and not too long after I was born, the cancer came back, and she had to have her uterus removed.”
I balked. I didn’t have a single word to say to that.
“So, it’s just me,” she said, smiling on a little bounce of her shoulders. “Their miracle baby.”
“You three are close.” I said it as a statement, not as a question. “You post a lot of photos with them.”
“I do. Creeper.”
I smirked. “Hey, you left an impression on me at the gala. Not my fault your bestie dropped your full name, and I couldn’t resist the urge to look you up.”