Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

He reaches past me, tapping Chelsea on the shoulder.

“What?” She turns away from her friends to face us.

“Smidge, change spots with Hannah.”

Chelsea looks around me at the big man. “Why?”

He pulls his arm back from around me and wedges it down his side, which shoves me over into Chelsea’s space. “Because I’m a monster and you’re Smidge, and then I can take up all the space you don’t use.”

Chelsea snorts, then taps her finger to her chin. “What do I get out of it?”

I open my mouth to tell her blackmail isn’t nice, but Maddox answers first.

“What do you want?”

“Mini donuts.” Her eyes widen as she says it.

We purposely ate lunch at home before Maddox picked us up so we wouldn’t have to spend a fortune buying food here. But mini donuts do sound amazing.

“Anything else?”

I look at Maddox. “You’re not really good at negotiating, are you?”

“I plan to eat half the donuts myself.” He shrugs.

Chelsea thinks. “A slushie?”

Maddox looks at me. “How about you, Auntie?”

Auntie.

“Um…” Why does that sound so dirty when he says it? “A slushie sounds good.”

“’Kay.” Maddox wedges himself up to standing, then points at Chelsea. “Smidge, you’re with me.”

I start to stand, but Maddox shakes his head. “We got this.”

Hesitating, I look at him, then over at Chelsea.

They get along— that’s clear to see. But I don’t want either of them to feel like they have to spend time together if they don’t want to.

But then Chelsea climbs over my legs to get out, zero hesitation on her face as she points to the cupholder in front of her seat. “I left my water.”

I look where she’s pointing, and when I turn back, they’ve already started up the stairs.

I blow out a breath and slump back into my seat.

Before I can overthink everything, there’s a soft tap on my shoulder.

I expect to see a mom when I turn, but it’s a boy about Chelsea’s age.

He’s leaned so far forward it’s a miracle he’s still on his seat at all. “My dad wants to know if that’s Mad Dog Maddox.”

I glance at the man sitting next to the kid.

He tugs on his son’s shirt. “You’re such a snitch.”

The kid ignores his dad. “It’s him though, isn’t it?”