“
Excuse me,” a voice says, interrupting us. I turn, and a blonde woman smiles at me. “You’re Maverick Miller, aren’t you?” “Depends. Did I do something wrong?” “No.” She flashes me a flirty smirk. “But I’m hoping you’re in the mood to be a little bad. My friends are leaving, and it’s too early for me to call it a night. Want to come back to my place?” “Sorry,” I tell the blonde with a grin. “I’m kind of in the middle of something with my baby’s mother right now. The kid is half alien, half potato, and we’re trying to figure out where they got these genes from.” “Ooookay,” the woman says, and she wrinkles her eyebrows. “That’s weird. I didn’t know you had kids.” “Are we classifying tiny extraterrestrials as kids? I guess we should. It’s inclusive and better than calling them skin dogs—since we all call dogs fur babies, you know?—or something like that.” I point my thumb over my shoulder. “I better get back to it. Janet here thinks the UFO has her eyes, but I’m pretty sure he looks most like me.” “I’m so confused,” the woman tells me. “You’re not Maverick Miller, are you?” “No way. That guy is way better at hockey than me. All I bring to the table are alien children.” “Don’t forget the potato part,” Emerson adds, and I almost lose it.
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Chelsea Curto (Face Off (D.C. Stars, #1))