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that has the hardest time getting himself under control. Get him laughing, and it takes him forever to
get a handle on it. He wheezes out a breath. “He gets the light on, and all we see is Colton, screaming,
wiggling around in his sleeping bag. He liked to zip himself all the way up, then wiggle his arms
down until he looked like a fucking mummy. So there he is, totally stuck and flipping the fuck out.”
Maverick dissolves back into giggles, unable to continue.
“What?” Evie asks, “What was happening?”
“A mouse crawled in there with him,” Ransom says. “He didn’t stop flailing around until that
little fucker popped out of the top and ran under the fridge.”
Declan and Cara climb back into their chair, wiping their eyes. “He didn’t sleep the rest of the
night.” Declan says. “Just sat on top of the table and kept watch. He didn’t sleep there again for
weeks. Not until Ransom bought a dozen mouse traps and set them around the apartment. He’s been a
fucking wreck ever since. Anything small and furry, and he’s a goner.”
“Oh my god,” Cara murmurs, an evil smile lighting her face, “this is going to be so much fun!”
12
MAYA
H e’ll shove me off if he doesn’t want me sitting on him, right? Okay, so maybe not shove me
because that would hurt, but maybe give me a little nudge? The way his arms are wrapped
around me, I can almost convince myself he doesn’t want me to leave. My mind is full of bees,
buzzing and humming, making it impossible to think my way through this.
I’ve never done this. Sat on my boss’s lap. Anyone’s lap. Ever. Apparently, this is the week for
me to try all the new things. And I get to crosslaugh so hard I nearly pee my pantsoff my list. Not
bad.Maybe tomorrow, I should get a tattoo. Something cute that won’t look sad and pathetic when my
skin is all stretched out when I’m eighty.
Zach’s chest is still moving in quiet amusement, and the sensation pings through my back, up my
ribs, and out through my fingertips. My hands are hovering, not quite sure where to land. Do I rest
them on his? Do I let them dangle? What’s the etiquette here? Cara and Declan are across the table,
cuddled up, but Cara’s back isn’t stiff like mine. She’s relaxing back. So is that it? Do I just…pretend
like he’s a chair? Somehow, I don’t think I can or should do that.
I can’t remember the last time anyone held me. I’m sure my mother did it at some point. She didn’t
always hate me. At least, I don’t think she did. I barely remember my dad other than a vague
