by Kennedy Fox
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s not a firecracker like you, though.”
“I’m not even sure what that means, but you can’t label me when you’ve just met me.”
“Oh, like you haven’t labeled me already?”
“I know your kind. I’ve heard plenty about you to form an opinion,” I tell him with purpose.
“God, you’re so hypocritical. You think you’re the first prissy, stick-up-her-ass assistant I’ve met? Doesn’t mean I know you just like it doesn’t mean you know me.”
He kinda has a point, but I don’t tell him that. His ego is already taking up all the space in the car.
Ignoring his comment, I grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. We’re in heavy traffic, and I’m not used to eight-lane highways.
“You better change lanes,” he says.
“I’m trying.” I look over my shoulder, searching for a spot to move into.
“Might wanna try the blinker. I heard it’s a signal for other drivers to know you want to turn or move over.”
I sigh and put it on. He’s distracting me.
“Stay quiet so I can focus.”
His chuckles are the last thing I hear from him as I attempt to move across the lanes. Finally, I make it, and we coast down the highway in silence until the city is behind us.
“When are we stopping for food?” He speaks up for the first time in hours. I look over at him and see he’s sticking out his lower lip, making a pouty face. “I’m shriveling to nothing over here.” He slightly lifts his shirt and pats his ridiculously cut stomach.
His eyes meet mine, and I quickly look away although he saw me staring. Swallowing, I look at the GPS to see how much farther until our first stop.
“We have about an hour left,” I tell him. “Think you’ll manage to stay alive for that long?”
He groans loudly, and it makes me laugh. I quickly catch myself and stop.
“You have a nice laugh. It’s a pleasant change from your short fuse and snarl.”
“I don’t snarl!” I argue. “I just like having a plan and sticking to it.”
He noticeably rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miss Priss. Letting your hair down won’t kill ya.”
“No, but your arrogant, self-absorbed attitude just might,” I throw at him, holding back a smirk.
“Well, I think that’s debatable. Most of the women I date think it’s charming.”
A loud snort bursts out of me, and I’m unable to bite my tongue. “I think that says more about who you’re dating than anything. They must be desperate.”
“Damn, what a burn.” He chuckles. “Adding hostile to your personality resume.”
I inhale a deep breath, realizing that was a really mean thing to say. “Okay, sorry. That wasn’t nice. But I’m not taking back what I said about you. You’re arrogant, and there’s no denying that.”
“Oh, well then, thanks, I guess.” He smirks. “You say it like being arrogant is a bad thing, though. In my profession, I kinda have to be. I’m constantly selling myself to photographers and showing them I’m worthy of being in their magazines and advertisements. If I don’t act confident and prove I’m the best guy for the gig, I’ll lose it to the thousands of other people pursuing the job.”
I think about his words for a minute. “Okay, well I can certainly understand that. But I think you’re just naturally that way.” I shrug, biting down on my lower lip so he doesn’t see right through me. He has every right to be confident; there’s no doubt about that. He’s got it all—the body, the face, the perfect white teeth and smile. His abs are plastered all over Rachel’s covers and book promo graphics. He even has that annoying muscular V that trails from his hips to down below his waistline. Annoyingly sexy. “However, that doesn’t mean you can’t be humble in other aspects of your life.”
“That’s a pretty big accusation for someone you just met. How do you know I’m not? You haven’t been around me long enough to know anything about me. Don’t you think?”
Damn. He’s right. “Fine. Prove me wrong then.”
An hour later, we’re stopped at a little family diner for lunch, and I’m ready to suck down another gallon of coffee. At this point, I’m not even sure caffeine affects me, but I’m an addict, so I enjoy the taste too.
The hostess smiles wide at Maverick as soon as he walks in, and her demeanor changes when she sees me following behind him. She studies me hard, eyes lingering up and down my body as if she’s disgusted a guy like him would be with a girl like me.
As we follow her to a table, I look down at my outfit and wonder what the judgmental snob was thinking about me. This is one of my favorite pantsuits, so she obviously has zero taste.
“Here you go.” She places the menus down in front of us once we sit across from each other in the booth. “The lunch special is the turkey and avocado wrap, and the soup is French onion.”
“Sounds great, thank you,” Maverick says, giving her a million-dollar smile. I fight back the urge to groan loudly. She acts like I’m not sitting here and talks directly to him while smiling and giggling like a fool. No one is that excited about lunch specials.
“Your server will be right with you.”
Maverick flashes her a quick wink before she trails off. I stare at him, dumbfounded.
“What?” He smirks.
I roll my eyes and grab a menu.
“What was that for?”
“Don’t you think that was a tad inappropriate?” I ask, not looking up at him as I scan the menu.
“Inappropriate? How? You’re gonna tell me how to act before we even get to the event?” His voice is gruff and laced with annoyance.
“Because I’m sitting right here, across from you, and she acted like I didn’t exist. We could’ve been on a date for all she knows.”
His brows shoot up, eyes widening.
“That didn’t come out right. That’s not what I meant. No, I mean like—”
“Olivia, stop.” He chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re all flustered.”
I narrow my eyes at his statement. “Don’t call me cute. And I’m not flustered.”
“And that’s exactly how she knew we weren’t on a date. Could probably smell the distaste you have for me the second you walked in.” He smirks to tell me he thinks he’s funny.
“Alright, but still. It’s rude to ignore a customer and hit on the other one. So unprofessional,” I assert.
Maverick shakes his head while smiling and lifts his menu. “She’s a hostess with a low-cut top and six-inch platforms. I doubt she was aiming for professionalism at all.”
Our waitress finally comes over, and we order. I’m so hungry, I ask for crackers while we wait for our food.
“You gonna eat that?” Maverick nods to the other half of my club sandwich twenty minutes later.
“No, I can’t. I’m stuffed.” I had soup before my meal because I was starving, but now I just want a nap.
“Sweet. Can I have it?”
My eyes widen, shocked he’s still hungry after shoveling an entire steak into his mouth. “Are you serious?”
Maverick reaches over and grabs it from my plate. “Gotta feed those muscles.” He shoots me a wink—to annoy me, I’m sure. He should know by now it has zero effect on me, yet he enjoys testing me.
“Sure,” I say, laughing when he doesn’t wait for my answer before taking a large bite. “I can’t believe how much you eat considering how fit you are.”
He reaches for his water and takes a long swig before setting it back down. “So you think I’m fit, huh?”
Rolling my eyes, I take my napkin and throw it at his smug expression. “That’s like saying the sky is blue, so don’t get any ideas in that big head of yours.”
After paying, Maverick yanks the keys from my hand and says it’s his turn to drive. I don’t bother arguing with him this time.
“I’m going to use the bathroom again before we go,” I tell him, so he doesn’t wait for me. “You might wa
nt to as well.”
“I went when we got here. So did you.”
“I know, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. We aren’t stopping again for a few hours,” I remind him.
“I’m fine. Meet you at the car.”
Shaking my head, I drop the subject and go about my business. I told him earlier we were only making one more stop after lunch to fill up so we’ll arrive at the hotel around eight tonight. Though I didn’t want to be in the car for twelve hours today, it was necessary. As long as we stay on schedule, making it to Dallas on time tomorrow shouldn’t be an issue.
“So since I’m driving, my radio now,” Maverick says the moment I sit in the passenger seat.
“Is this where you tell me you’re secretly into Ariana Grande and Avril Lavigne?”
“First off, no. Secondly, Avril is a killer punk singer, so joke’s on you.” He grins, fiddling with the stations.
“Yeah, clearly.” I groan, buckling in and trying to mentally prepare myself for the next six hours with this man.
“AC/DC, baby!”
I furrow my brows and scowl, wishing I’d brought headphones with me.
An hour goes by, and instead of dwelling on his horrible music choices, I write in my notebooks and planner, making a list of the things I need to do in order of importance before this trip is over. Rachel has continued to pile on tasks, and if I can complete some of them during the next week and a half, that’ll save me from being overloaded when we return.
Just as I’m writing down some notes about her next release, I see Maverick nearly dancing in his seat and looking over his shoulder to merge to the right lane.
“What are you doing?” I look around and see we haven’t traveled very far since lunch.
“I need to piss. I saw a sign for an outlet mall coming up.”
I look at the time. We don’t need gas for a couple more hours.
“I told you to go at the diner!” I scold. “We don’t have time to stop. We’re already behind schedule since Miss Hostess with no shame chatted with you for an extra five minutes.”
He turns his head and glares at me. “So you’re going to punish me by making me piss myself?”
“Surely you can hold it for a couple of hours.”
“Olivia.”
“Maverick.”
“I’m driving, and I’m taking this exit.”
“No!” I hold my hand to stop him from turning the steering wheel. “Those stores are probably packed. By the time we find a parking spot, you find a bathroom, and we drive out of the traffic, it’ll waste twenty minutes!”
“Take your hand off the wheel, Olivia. You’ll make us get into an accident.”
“Fine,” I grit between my teeth. “Keep driving then.”
“I will as soon as I take a leak.”
“Argh! Why are you so difficult? I just want to get to the hotel and take a hot shower and sleep before we have to do this all over again tomorrow.”
“And you will, so stop being so dramatic.”
“Maverick, seriously.” I hold up my planner to show him the schedule. “We’ll run right into the evening rush hour, and that’ll fuck it all up.”
He narrows his eyes as if he’s actually reading it, and I’m so distracted by how close he is to me that I don’t even see him moving to take it right out of my hand. He presses a button on his door, and the window automatically rolls down.
“What are you—”
“You wanna know how I feel about your fucking schedule?”
My eyes widen in fear. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wanna find out?” He quirks a brow, taunting me as he shifts it closer to the window. Watching the pages flutter in the breeze causes my heart to race. This can’t be happening; my entire life is in there, and so is Rachel’s.
“Give it back! That’s my Bible!”
He laughs. Fucking laughs!
I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. It’s probably why I don’t have many friends or a social life, but this is just plain mean.
“I will junk punch you with no mercy if you don’t hand it over, Maverick.” I hold down my stare as I put one hand out for him to place it there.
“Damn, Miss Priss. Taking it to that level, huh?” He flashes a smirk, obviously not too worried about my threat.
My jaw drops open. “You started it!”
He shakes his head and chuckles as he tosses it on my lap, ignoring my hand.
Moments later, he takes the exit and finds a parking spot—which takes forever just as I suspected.
“Be back in a second,” he says as he opens the door and steps out. When I don’t respond, he leans into the car, and continues, “Let me know if you need help getting that stick out of your ass later. I’m assuming it’s wedged pretty deep, so I’ll buy some lube just in case.”
Vibration at the back of my throat releases a deep growl. Gah! He’s so infuriating.
I look up and see a wide, proud smile plastered on his chiseled face.
“Fuck off.”
He chuckles loudly as if he accomplished what he was aiming for—riling me up.
“My offer to junk punch you stands,” I remind him. “Hurry up.”
“Ooh, I like it when you talk dirty to me.” He winks and shuts the door behind him before I can respond.
Leaning back, I fall against the headrest and groan.
One day down, only eleven more to go.
Chapter Six
MAVERICK
Olivia’s knocking on my door before the sun rises, which only annoys the shit out of me because it’s literally six on the dot. I understand being on a schedule and all, but she’s absolutely relentless. I open the door wearing nothing but my boxer briefs, and she glances down at my morning wood, then back up at me.
“For crying out loud,” she says. “It’s time to go, and you’re not even dressed.”
I close the door in her face and hear her groans on the other side. I can just imagine her standing there, fuse lit, ready to explode as I throw on some jeans and a T-shirt. Considering we have all day to drive to Dallas and we’re thirteen hours away means we don’t have to really rush around just as long as we’re there by tonight.
By the way she’s acting, I can tell she’s already wound up tight.
Last night after my shower, I packed everything, so I’m mostly ready to go, but I want her to sweat for a moment. After five minutes pass, I hear pounding on the door. I’m halfway surprised she waited out there that long.
I grab my suitcase, pop the handle up, and open the door. Olivia rolls her eyes and shakes her head, which only causes me to laugh. I follow her to the elevator. When we step in, she doesn’t say a word to me.
“I need the keys. I’m driving.” I hold out my hand, and at first, she hesitates but then places them in my palm. I’ll take all the small victories I can get.
Before we leave the hotel lobby, Olivia stops at the front desk and hands over the key cards, then asks for her receipt. Instead of waiting, I walk to the car, pop the trunk, and throw my suitcase inside. Soon, she’s walking toward me dressed in proper business attire and high heels, which I didn’t notice earlier because I was too busy closing the door in her face.
“You’re going to wear that to travel?” I look her up and down before taking her suitcases, pushing the handles down, and placing them in the trunk. I try to take her laptop bag, but she refuses to hand it over. I shrug and repeat my question.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asks with her arms folded over her chest.
“It’s too uptight for a road trip, don’t you think?”
She doesn’t say a word before she turns on her heels and climbs into the passenger seat. I take my time walking to the driver's side, climb in, adjust the mirrors, then find a rock and roll station on satellite radio, which will be a complete lifesaver when we’re driving in the middle of nowhere Texas.
Olivia bends over and starts pulling notebooks from her bag, and when she flips to the
daily itinerary she’s laid out, I turn up the music because I don’t want to hear about our stupid schedule today. Rock music screams through the car, and it takes all of ten seconds for her to reach over and turn it down.
“I can’t concentrate with that crap blaring. I’d like to try to get some work done while you drive.” She reaches and changes the station to her classical church shit.
I pull out of the hotel parking lot and put the radio back to my music. “When I’m driving, we listen to what I want to listen to and vice versa. Road trip rules 101.” The Rolling Stones scream out about getting satisfaction. When she goes to turn it down, I lightly swat her hand. “I’m serious.”
Olivia slams her planner shut and stares out the window as I pull into a gas station. We’re a few miles from the New Mexico border, and I want to fill up now and get some water without her telling me when I’m allowed to drink. “We don’t have time to stop right now. We can make it a little farther,” she argues, but I don’t listen.
Before I get out, she begrudgingly hands me her business credit card, and I fill up the car. She seems to be picking and choosing her battles today, which is pleasant in a way. I might actually start wearing her down. Who knows, by the time we make it to Dallas, we could be friends. I laugh at the thought. Before I get in the car, I run inside the gas station and grab a few bottles of water for us. When I open the door and hand her one, she gives me a smile, actually grateful.
“Thank you.” She twists off the top and nearly drinks half of it.
“Dang, girl. Want me to go in and get you another one?” I grin.
She shakes her head, then goes back to her book, and the small moment we shared disappears. I get in the car and turn the radio just loud enough to drown out the road noise. Desert with patches of random green grass lines the road. I’m thankful the weather is nice and the sky is blue; it makes for easy driving. Soon we’re leaving New Mexico and crossing the Texas border. Seeing all the brown really makes me miss the water in California.
Olivia looks around at the nothingness as we drive through El Paso and Van Horn. “Maverick. How much gas do we have?” she asks, going back to her planner.