Page 9

Ava

M y fist pounds on the bathroom door. “Maverick, hurry up. I am going to be late.”

Perfect. I am going to miss my first job interview because I married a beauty queen.

The last week has been filled with the worst sleep of my life.

Partially because the futon is about as comfortable as sleeping on a boulder and partially because I’ve been making myself sick over this interview.

This is the closest hospital and I really, really need this job.

“Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll be out in a minute.” I can barely hear his voice over the shower water hitting the tub. He’s the worst. Just because he hasn’t had to worry about anything in his life doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t.

You know what? It’s fine. I will just skip the shower and do a low bun.

I can use my makeup palette’s mirror to try and put some eyeliner and mascara on, and concealer to hide the eyebags.

That reminds me that I need to eventually go to town, I need to buy another mirror because the bull-riding bathroom hog takes an hour shower and I don’t need to be running late every day of my life.

The shower finally turns off as I slip on my shoes.

My hair and makeup are as good as they’re going to get, but at least I look put together.

My black slacks perfectly hug my hips and match my blazer.

The bathroom door opens, and a rush of steam billows out behind Maverick.

At least he is mostly clothed. Water droplets drip off his wet hair that hangs just above his eyes.

My mind becomes a little fried because, like this, he looks like a walking billboard for a body spray commercial, which makes me wish he wasn’t wearing a shirt so I could sneak another peek.

Unfortunately for me and my desire to gawk, he’s been nothing but respectful since I moved in, minus the absurdly long showers.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” he says as he dries his hair with a towel.

“It’s a little late for that. I have to go.”

“Where are you going?” I don’t miss the way his eyes catch on the curve of my hips. His eyes come back to mine, and I can see something that looks a lot like desire. But I don’t have time to dissect that right now.

“Remember the seventy-five times I told you about my job interview? That’s today.” Walking over to the kitchen, I grab my water bottle and purse from the counter and walk to the door.

“Oh yeah. Sorry about that. You’ll do great.

You look…” He looks me up and down, eyes catching on hips, and clears his throat before speaking.

“Professional. Gotta say, I like you better in boots though.” I look down at my black dress shoes and try to remember a time he would have ever even seen me in boots.

But then my NFR outfit comes to mind and I shake my head.

“If that is how you compliment a woman, I have serious reservations about how I ended up in your bed. Now seriously, I have to go. I am already running late.”

“Try to use your gas pedal this time when you drive down the road,” he hollers from behind me .

I’m going to find some payback for him. Would putting laxatives in his protein shakes before a long drive to a ride be too far? Pretty sure that’s a criminal offense, but they’d have to prove it first.

“At this moment, we don’t have any full-time openings, but if you are interested, we would love to offer you a PRN position, so we will call you as we need you or if someone calls out, and if something more permanent opens up, you will be our first choice.

” Since I don’t have many options right now, I’m obviously not going to turn that down.

And that might work out for my benefit; it’s easier to cut ties if I’m not full-time staff and can still get the experience I need.

“That will work great for me. Thank you for the opportunity.” The palms of my hands feel sweaty as I fidget with them in my lap. The office they have us in is small and quaint, I am glad it wasn’t a large panel interview. Those scare the daylights out of me. One-on-one is a lot easier to handle.

She shuffles the stack of papers in her hands before looking up and giving me a warm smile.

“Wonderful. I’ll follow up with your new hire paperwork.

It does take a little while to get the background check cleared.

Usually, about four weeks or so, and then we can schedule orientation.

We will probably have you work thirty-six hours the first couple of weeks with your preceptor to make sure you learn the hospital and our procedures, and then we will start calling you as needed. ”

I nod, grateful that the hours will be longer the first few weeks. Not getting paid for a month is going to obliterate my savings. Lucky for me, student loans don’t start repayment for a couple more months, so I have a small cushion before I need to panic.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she asks.

“Nope, I think you have answered them all. Thank you for the opportunity. I’m excited to be on your team.” Reaching over the table, I hold my hand out to shake hers. Because this really is a good opportunity, even if it’s not full-time, I’m grateful I was able to find something.

“Great. I will show you the way out.”

Making it back to the cabin just before dark, I walk into an empty house.

A bit of relief hits me. While it hasn’t been entirely unpleasant living with him, after his little stunt this morning, I don’t exactly want to see him.

Plus, I can shower in peace and be assured of having hot water since Maverick likes to use all of it.

I should probably give him a break; he’s been a bachelor all his life, and sharing a space all of a sudden probably isn’t easy.

But moving isn’t easy either. I have no one here.

The thought makes me send a check-in text to Erin.

She’s checked in every day and offered to come visit, but since the space is so small, that really isn’t an option.

Once I get out of the shower and dressed, I start drying my hair when I hear a knock at the front door. As long as I’ve been here, I haven’t seen anyone. Maverick hangs out at Lord knows where until nighttime, then comes home and crashes. So, it’s been just me here so far.

Swinging the wooden door open, I see an older lady.

A long grey braid hangs over her shoulder, and a cowboy hat sits atop her head.

Her denim overalls peek out from underneath her jacket.

You can tell she has spent most of her days in the sun, with all the sunspots and freckles across her face.

The smile on her face is warm and kind. “Oh! I thought Mav would be here. Are you the lady friend of his?”

Her question has me a bit stumped on how to answer.

Do I tell her the truth? Sensing my hesitation, she jumps back in, “Oh, I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

I’m assuming you’re his, um… Ava. Right?

” She stumbles over her words, and I laugh a little, not at her struggle but at the fact that she must feel as uncomfortable as I do.

“Yes, I am Ava. Maverick hasn’t made it home yet.” Calling this place home still feels odd.

“I’m Mabel. Me and my husband own the ranch. Maverick’s friend, Weston, is our son. Well, I am sorry to bother you. Can you give this to him when he gets back? I can bring you a plate, too, if you’re hungry?”

An idea comes to mind, and I answer, “No worries, and don’t worry about me, I’ve got my dinner already figured out.”

“Great, well if you get lonely, feel free to come down to the big house anytime. I can use some company that isn’t rowdy cowboys.” She shoots me a wink, and I can’t fight the smile that stretches across my face.

I decide right now that I like her. I may not like this situation, but she seems really nice, and I could use a friend out here.

“You can count on it.” The smile on my face and the promise are genuine .

“Alright, well have a good night, honey.” Her thin lips stretch out in a smile as she backs away from the door and heads to the truck sitting idle in front of the cabin.

“Thank you.” I wave and close the door behind her.

Walking to the kitchen, I pull a fork out of the drawer and dig in. If he wants to ruin my morning, I will ruin his night by eating his dinner.

Taking my first bite of meatloaf, I nearly moan.

It’s been so long since I’ve had a good home-cooked meal like this.

I can cook, but I didn’t have two pennies to rub together through college, so it was ramen noodles and boxed mac and cheese a lot of the time.

This is amazing. The fluffy mashed potatoes smothered in gravy melt in my mouth.

A pang of guilt flashes through me for eating his dinner, especially because this is so good.

Not enough to stop eating, but enough to feel bad about it.

I sit the empty plate in the sink as Maverick’s headlights shine through the front windows. My feet sprint across the floor to my futon, and I pull the book off the back of it just as he walks through the door.

He walks in, pulls off his Carhartt jacket, and slides off his boots. I pretend to be very interested in my book while watching him from the corner of my eye.

Turning to look at me, he gives me a grin and says, “Hey, how did your interview go?”

“It went great, and I wasn’t even late.” Another small wave of guilt hits me because he is being nice and caring enough to ask how my interview went.

He laughs at that. “What a shocker. If you use your gas pedal, you can get to places faster.” He shoots me a wink, and I can’t help but want to blush.

His sharp jaw is covered with just enough stubble to add a rugged, sexy look.

I can try and deny how attractive he is all day, but now that I'm living with him, I spend half my time being annoyed by his perky and carefree demeanor and the other half trying to hide my ogling.

He walks to the kitchen, swings open the refrigerator door, and spends a good two minutes shuffling through it. There’s not a whole lot in there, so I'm not sure where he thinks a plate would hide itself.

He stands up, scratches his head, and searches the lone countertop, seeing it completely cleaned off. “Hey, did Mabel bring by a plate of food?”

“The sweet lady from the big house down the road? Yeah, she came by and dropped off a plate.”

A confused look washes over his face, and he looks around the room. I bet he feels like he is going crazy or blind, which makes this even funnier. “Where is it?”

“In the sink.” I try to hide my snicker behind my book, unable to keep my face straight.

He looks at me like I’m borderline crazy. “You put a plate full of food in the sink?”

I drop the book from my face so he can see the look of pure, smug satisfaction on my face. “No, but I did put an empty plate in the sink. She makes the best meatloaf I’ve ever had. I’ve always thought it was a little on the gross side, but hers,” I widen my eyes for dramatics, “wow.”

His face falls as his jaw drops. His tone turns accusatory. “You ate my dinner.”

“Oops.” I shrug my shoulders and bring my book back up, discreetly peering at him over it. Yeah, this is worth the guilt I feel.

“You ate my favorite dinner.” He says it more as a statement as he stares at me in disbelief. He slowly blinks like he can’t believe it .

“And you almost made me late for my first job interview. Now we are even.” I’m sure he doesn’t know what it’s like to have to interview for jobs. Or what it’s like to care about things like that.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and purses his lips. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? You sure you want to play this game, sweetheart?”

It didn’t really occur to me that he would want to retaliate.

I thought we would call it a wash. “I’m not playing a game.

You ruined my morning, so I decided it was only fair if I ruined your night.

” I mean, I wasn’t really sure if it would ruin his night, but I’m sure having your dinner snuck out from underneath you would at least be a damper on the evening.

“You’re lucky I’m going to be gone next week, but when I’m back, it’s game on.”

“I’m shaking in my boots. You’re leaving again?” I feel like the championship just ended? Wouldn’t that mean it’s at least time for a break?

“Yup, bull riding is pretty much year-round. The more I ride, the better chance I have at earning big and securing my spot for championships.” It quickly becomes clear to me that I don’t know as much about his job as I thought.

“Well, since you stole my dinner, I am going to head up to the house and see if there are any leftovers stashed anywhere.”

He turns and walks out the door, leaving me with my thoughts, which is a dangerous thing to be left alone with as a chronic overthinker. I can’t help but wonder what other things about him I’m wrong about.