MAVERICK

I’d been trying to concentrate back on studying since I got my books from my apartment, but I got distracted by Homer.

“Ma’am, you can’t get in there. I told you Mr. Winston is not here.”

I should have just studied in my room, but the view behind the window was spectacular.

“Then why are you here?” a woman asked, sounding pissed.

I turned my head, about to stand up from the couch, when I recognized that face—the beautiful blonde ...