IOU: A Romantic Comedy

by Kristy Marie

  “Literally, huh?” He grins.

  “That’s not what I meant! I just meant that I’m going to find the woman I once was. The one before Tucker.”

  “And finding your G-spot helps you with that?”

  I stand taller, fighting a grin. I love all this push and pull we have. “Learning to scream out my own name helps, yes.”

  That wipes the smug smile off his face.

  He swallows and places the book on the table like it burned him.

  “Where’s my laptop?” he asks, suddenly serious.

  I take a bite of the apple. Maverick Lexington does not scare me. “It’s safe.”

  How exciting is this? I’m nearly shaking with anticipation. Bantering with Maverick has always been fun, but now, seeing the fire burn in his eyes . . . this is fun.

  “I’ll only ask you once. Where is it?”

  His steps are calculated and strong. Gone is the weak man from last night. This man is formidable as he forces me against the counter.

  “Give it to me. Now.”

  His breath is on my face, fresh and minty like it hasn’t been long since he brushed his teeth.

  Standing firm, I smile, forcing out a, “Later. And only if you’re a good boy.”

  He shoves me slightly, taking my shoulders in his hands, his mouth going to my neck as my hair drapes around his face like a shield. I can feel his watch vibrating with notifications.

  “You better slow your heart down,” I tease, forcing out a breath. Yep, that’s my lady bits throbbing this early in the morning.

  He takes a deep breath, and I feel it all the way to my toes.

  “Don’t play with me.”

  I scoff, grinning triumphantly. “That’s exactly what I plan to do.” I lean my head into his face, forcing his lips to my neck. “I know my opponent now.”

  Maverick’s hands clench against me once more before he pulls back, his hot body leaving mine cool in its wake.

  His eyes burn with anticipation. “All right, James. I’ll see your bet and raise.”

  “This is stupid. I’m not doing it. I thought you meant a game of Millionaire or poker to help with the stress, not this.”

  Maverick really is cute when he's being all awkward, looking around like he’s scared someone will recognize him at Crush It, a place where you can literally smash anything. The internet claims it’s all the rage and is known to alleviate stress. Yes, I took Luke’s advice, somewhat. I’m fairly certain Luke was insinuating that Maverick needed to get laid, but relief is relief, right? Either way, at Crush It, Maverick can release some tension and still let loose some testosterone should he need it.

  “Shut up and choose your weapon,” I tease, offering up a baseball bat with a few playful swings. “Unless you’re scared.”

  He casts a dark predatory gaze at me. “I’m not scared.”

  Sure.

  “You know what?” I chirp.

  He groans. “No. I don’t want to know.”

  Too bad. “I think you’re scared you might actually enjoy it.”

  Maverick likes to go around being the cool kid. Asking him to step outside his comfort zone and join us mortals is a scary place.

  He scoffs. “It’s just breaking shit. We could have gone over to Sebastian’s and done the same thing. He would have loved to have new footage.”

  The guy who checked us in hands over two helmets, vests, and face masks.

  “I’m not wearing this shit,” says the sourpuss in the room.

  I offer the Crush It guy a smile and take the safety equipment. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

  The guy looks warily at Maverick, who stands there with a perpetual scowl on his face and his arms crossed at his chest. “Press the button when you’re ready to start,” he tells us.

  “Will do,” I say excitedly before he turns—eyeing Maverick one more time—and leaves.

  “Come on, Mav. You signed acknowledging the rules.”

  Another scoff. “Fuck the rules. I signed a waiver too. If I get hurt, it’s on me. And don’t call me Mav.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather not get hurt?” I argue. I’m not addressing the Mav thing. I will call him what I want. It’s time he crawls out of the denial hole.

  “I’m willing to risk it. I’m not wearing a face mask like some kind of pussy.”

  Whatever. Everyone sees I tried, right? If he loses an eye, he loses an eye.

  “Fine.” I sigh, setting the vest and helmet he refuses to wear on the floor.

  I slip on my mask. “Okay. But don’t be mad when I accidentally miss and you get a nut shot.”

  That comment gives him pause. “What do you mean, ‘When you miss’? Is there a chance you’re going to miss?”

  Men. They’ll lose an eye, but heaven forbid the jewels take a hit.

  I cut him a look. “I’m just saying I don’t have that great of an aim.” I shrug like he should know this. I did miss hitting Tucker with a candle and almost set my previous apartment on fire.

  He eyes me suspiciously.

  I grin. “I could ask the guy for a cup.”

  His lip quirks before he shakes his head. “You won’t miss.”

  “How do you know?”

  He rounds one of the tables and approaches me, placing his hand on the bat at my side. “Because that’s not a debt you’ll want to repay.” His voice is low, and the warmth of his breath tickles the hair at the back of my neck.

  “Got it,” I manage to choke out not because I’m scared but because I’m kind of excited. I’m indebted to Maverick up to my eyeballs, including this little outing—three IOUs if you must know—but the way that particular threat sounded, seemed like it was on a whole different payment scale.

  “Good,” he clips when I just stand there gawking. “Now press the fucking button and let’s do this before I change my mind.”

  I do.

  Not only do I press the button on the wall, signaling to the staff that we’re ready to go, but I pick “Legend” by Atlas to play over the loudspeakers. It’s a catchy and kick-ass kind of tune that you can destroy stuff to.

  “I’m surprised,” says Maverick, his fingers grazing over one of the aluminum bats. “I felt sure we’d be listening to Beyoncé or some kind of girl power song.”

  My heart flutters just thinking he would be willing to endure girl power music if I wanted.

  “Nope,” I say with a smile. “This trip is all for you.”

  And me. Sort of.

  I’ve wanted to try this place for a while, and well, now was the perfect opportunity. Maverick and I both have demons we need to work out of our system.

  “How thoughtful,” he muses right before rearing back and leveling an old fax machine on the table. Pieces of plastic and metal fly everywhere, sliding along the concrete floor.

  “You’re right,” he says, rolling his shoulders with a stupid grin on his face. “This feels incredible.”

  He takes another swing at a glass vase, shattering it with a victory yell that pops a silly smile on my face.

  Then he takes another swing. And another.

  I’m watching in awe as the uptight man I know lets loose and enjoys himself like a big kid gone rogue in a toy store.

  His swings are strong, and his form is impeccable, but that just might be me. I don’t think I’ve ever really sat back and enjoyed the view that is Maverick.

  Sure, I’ve noticed sexy qualities here and there. Especially his dark, messy hair and tattoos. But he always has a shield up. That shield keeps you from enjoying the hottest things about him, like his smile. His quick-witted personality. And his beautiful broken heart.

  I think even if Maverick were on the lower end of the hot spectrum, I would still want to stare at him for hours because I know that underneath all the rumors and masks is a good guy with a caring heart.

  “Ainsley, stop standing there and hit something!” he yells between panting breaths.

  I grin. “I’m not sure you’re going to leave me anything to destroy.”r />
  Those broad shoulders stop mid-swing before turning and leveling me with a look that says I will break some shit before we leave.

  “Come here. Now.”

  Yep, that tone he just used tingled below my belt line.

  I clench the bat and walk over to where Maverick waits impatiently, one hand tucked halfway into his pocket. “Look at this old TV and tell me what you see.”

  I cock my head to the side, looking for a hidden image or something.

  “Uh . . .”

  I can hear his sigh over the music.

  “Ahh!”

  He snags me around the waist and places me in front of him roughly, his bat clattering to the floor. Warm and strong, his hands grip my hips. “You want to know what I think you see?”

  Gah, his breath tickles along my neck. I should not have put my hair up. This outing is destined for a mistake.

  “I think you see the woman Fuckface and his wannabe girlfriend kicked out of her apartment.”

  It’s like he threw an ice-cold bucket of water over me. I try wrenching out of his hold, but he keeps going. “Look at the TV, Ainsley. Tell me what you see.”

  I swallow. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  Why did he have to bring up Tucker when we were having such a good time?

  “You will do this,” he growls. “Look, Ainsley. Look at the TV. Tell me what you see.”

  Fine. If it will shut him up, I’ll look.

  Hesitantly, I pull my gaze from the floor and find the screen of the TV. Huh. The reflection is me and Maverick, locked together, his hands on my hips, proving strong and imposing.

  “I see me,” I tell him softly.

  “And?” His voice is approving.

  “And I see you.”

  “Want to know what I see?” he asks, his voice warmer as his head bows to my ears and speaks the words directly to my heart. “I see a survivor—a force to be reckoned with.”

  Chills break along my skin.

  “I see a strong and independent woman. One who forgives no matter what she’s been through. The woman in that TV reflection is brave, bold, and full of life.”

  His fingers wrap around mine before he repeats the process.

  “She’s caring and kind.”

  He brings my left hand across my body and places it on the bat.

  “Beautiful and funny.”

  He turns us to the side, and I stare at our image. His penetrating gaze peering at me through the reflection.

  “She cowers to no man.”

  His head leans into mine like he can’t get close enough. “She takes what she wants.”

  The bat is lifted.

  “She’s fucking invincible.”

  And then we swing together. Glass and hardware go in all different directions.

  “Ahh! You’re right!” I do this little jump in his arms. “This does feel great! Fuck Tucker! And Twatface!”

  I turn and face him, and immediately his arms go to my waist. I feel small tucked into his imposing body.

  “Thank you for saying all those nice things about me.”

  A groan vibrates in his chest. “Shut up.”

  “I mean it. It was really sweet.”

  He’s just a big old scary teddy bear.

  “You deserve to be happy,” he finally says after a moment.

  “I am happy.” The words came out before I realized it. “I—” I start to apologize but think better of it. “You know what? I won’t apologize. I am happy. I’m glad Tucker cheated on me. I’m glad he forced me out of my apartment. I’m a better person because of it.”

  I hesitate with my last declaration because as scary as Maverick is, I think he gets spooked with too many emotional words. “I’m happy because of you. Thank you for being my friend, even if you didn’t want to be.” He rolls his eyes. “And thank you for letting me crash on your couch, eat your food, and pretend to be your roomie even if it’s only temporary, and I owe you like a million firstborns and souls.”

  I pull back and flash him a megawatt smile. “You truly are my genie in a bottle.”

  “What?” His brows furrow.

  I wave off his concern. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just saying you’re not such a bad guy after all, Maverick Lexington.”

  I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek. “And I’m going to miss you when I move out.”

  Those stormy eyes flash with an intensity I’ve never seen from Maverick. At least when he’s not been pissed.

  His hands graze up my waist and over my shoulders until they rest at my cheeks. His jaw ticks as he watches me watching him. Gah, he really is stunning.

  And then he growls out, “Fuck it,” before smashing his lips to mine.

  Rumor has it she mugged him at the grocery store.

  “I’m ready to leave.”

  Why is he talking?

  Pulling his face closer, I smother any other words he attempts saying. Currently, my legs are wrapped around his waist, my back against the wall of the Crush It room that we’ve completely abandoned. Maverick and I both silently agreed that grinding against the wall with his tongue down my throat was way better at releasing tension than smashing old electronics.

  “Ainsley.” He tries prying me off and setting me on my feet.

  I have no shame. “Nooooo.”

  His chest rumbles with laughter. “Not here. Let’s go home.”

  Home.

  Yes, home sounds good.

  Releasing my legs from their vice grip, I allow Maverick to place me on my feet, which honestly, are a little wobbly, but they manage to keep me upright and that’s all I’m asking at this point.

  “You good?” he asks, tucking away his massive boner.

  It’s tacky if I ask if he wants to disappear into a bathroom stall, right? “Not really, but I’ll manage until we get home,” I answer honestly.

  I exhale a breath of pent-up frustration. No sense in lying. I want this man. I’ve wanted him since I used his shampoo and slept on his amazingly comfortable sofa. I don’t even care that this may be a one-time thing. I can live with that.

  “Let’s go. We need food first,” he clips out.

  I groan out something that sounds a lot like blatant disappointment. “I’m good without food,” I add just in case he is too.

  He pulls us out of the room. “We’ll pick up a frozen mac and cheese for afterward then, yeah?”

  He’s my spirit animal.

  Well, not my animal. He’s my spirit human and I might just have to stay indebted to him so he can never get rid of me.

  A million and three years later we arrive home. Maverick has been quiet and I wonder if he’s come to his senses. Let’s be honest, I’m a mess fresh off the breakup boat. I’m not key banging material.

  Keys are shoved into my hand as he shuffles the bags on his arms. “You want me to unlock the door?” I ask. Am I a little shocked? Yes. He’s never let me unlock the door or even have a key.

  “Do you want to hold these bags of macaroni and cheese while I do it?” he asks sarcastically.

  Right. His hands are full, which is totally his fault. He said to get whatever I wanted at the store. What I wanted was ice cream and dick with a side of mac and cheese. So here we are.

  “You should have paced yourself with the junk food. I read you should be eating a heart healthy diet,” I tease. I really did go overboard. What can I say? Destroying things had my appetite through the roof.

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “Open the door, smartass.”

  I fumble with the lock and I feel his body press against my back like a warning. His breaths fan along my neck as he leans his head down, the motion angling my head to the side so he can get to the sensitive spot behind my ear. Oh hell. He’s going to make me come against the soul-stained door.

  A teasing comment about such plays on my lips, but I swallow it down when he pushes his erection against my ass. No, now is not the time to kill the mood with comedic commentary. His dick, like me, is hungry, and we need to
get inside before I let him ravage me on the cheap linoleum.

  Somehow I manage to put the key in the hole and twist just before Maverick shoves me inside, drops the bags of frozen mac and cheese on the floor, and pins me against the wall.

  His watch beeps like crazy, but he never looks down. Instead, all his attention is focused on me. This is it. We are so doing this.

  A ball of nerves sits in my throat. I swallow to work it down. “I need you to promise me something.”

  He doesn’t even give me a second to finish. “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  “The answer is still no. You know what to do if you want a promise.”

  Ugh. “Fine. Give me a card.”

  I’m not even shocked.

  The corner of his lip twitches. “I’m afraid my hands are otherwise engaged. You want a promise, you know what to do.”

  I eye his hands at my face, caging me in. Mmm. I kind of like feeling caught.

  “Fine.” I will get my own IOU in his back pocket, right over his firm ass. Really, I probably could live without the promise, but I don’t want to take that risk. Not yet, at least.

  Deep breath. You totally can do this, Ainsley. Tucker may not have had an ass like this, but they all feel the same.

  My fingertips graze along the sides of his body. I can see his shirt indent with his quick intake of breath. “I think maybe this should come off,” I suggest, tugging at his shirt. “It’s the most effective way for me to get to your pocket.” Not really, but I want to see all of him. Sue me.

  I’m prepared for a cocky smile or even a laugh, but one never comes. Instead, Maverick drops his hand, trailing his finger along my cheek and down my body until he’s able to reach the hem of his T-shirt. He bunches a handful of fabric in his fist and drags it to where my hands rest at his ribs.

  “Go ahead, take it off.”

  Swallowing, I take a look at the tribal tattoos peeking out from underneath. Yes, this is definitely the best way to his pocket.

  Painstakingly slow, I lift his shirt over his head. He even leans down to help and that makes me feel short for the first time in my life.

  “Okay, so”—I clear my throat—“now that we have that out of the way.”