The Introvert's Guide to Blind Dating (The Introvert's Guide 3)

I blinked at Maverick and realized we were both done eating. “No, thank you. There’s enough dessert at home, and if I have another drink, I definitely can’t drive home.”

He glanced at my glass. “That was a double, right? I’ll drive you home. That beer wasn’t strong.”

I swallowed. “It’s fine. I’ll get a cab or call my brother.”

“No, really, I insist. If you’re going to pay for your own dinner, the least I can do is take you home. Can you get back for your car tomorrow?”

“It’s fi—”

“If you tell me it’s fine one more time, I’m going to pay for your dinner.”

I sighed. “Okay, yes, I can get my car tomorrow. It’s parked around the back and Tony won’t mind if I leave it here.”

“Great.” Maverick motioned for the bill to be brought over and stacked our plates.

Ugh.

He even stacked plates for the servers.

How annoying was he?

Not to be outdone, I slid the plates to the end of the table and put my empty glass next to it. His lips twitched as if he knew what I was doing, but he didn’t say anything when the bill was put down.

“What’s my share?” I asked, pulling my wallet from my purse. He quickly added it up and gave me the total, albeit on a grumble. I was glad I’d taken cash out with the intention of getting takeout, and it was enough to cover my share and leave a tip.

He did the same but with a card, and our server processed that all for him, and we left right after.

I was a little happy after that gin and tonic.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea for him to drive me home.

Maverick guided me over to a forest green Jeep and unlocked it. It was clearly a new model and probably new given how shiny it was—there wasn’t even a bit of dirt on the wheel arches, for God’s sake.

He grinned. “I just picked her up this morning.”

I rolled my eyes and got in the passenger side. It still had that dreamy new car smell, and mixed with the fresh leather of the seats, it was a heady scent. It was the kind of thing you’d buy a wax melt of to burn forever in your living room.

I mean, not me personally. I preferred citrus scents. I spent so much time with sweet stuff, I liked a sharper scent outside the kitchen.

Maverick pulled out of the parking lot. “You’ll have to give me directions. I don’t think I’ve been to Queen of Tarts.”

“It’s easy enough to find. It’s just at the end of Main Street,” I explained. “The big red and white canopy outside tends to draw people in.”

He grinned again. “Noted. Don’t have any leftovers, do you? I skipped dessert.”

“If you wanted dessert, you could have stayed. You’re the one who insisted on driving me home.”

“I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” he replied. “Do you?”

“Sorry. With a friend group the size of mine, there’s always someone poking their head through the door late in the day to get half-price cakes.”

“You charge your friends for leftovers?”

“Of course I do. I’m running a business, not a charity.” I snorted. “Besides, I bake stuff for them all the time for free. Birthday cakes and stuff. My brother and one of my friends are getting married next spring and I’m doing their wedding cake for free.”

“Pays to know people who can bake,” he mused. “I am not one of those people.”

I glanced at him. “I can’t imagine you baking a cake, I’m not going to lie.”

“It’s dreadful, really. The lead in my next book is taking over her grandmother’s bakery, and I’ve been trying to familiarize myself with the kitchen. It’s not going well.”

“May I suggest Betty Crocker’s box mixes?”

“Isn’t that blasphemous for you to suggest?”

“Absolutely, but it might be easier to get you started.”

He laughed as he pulled up outside Queen of Tarts. “I think I’ll just stick to Google and The Great British Bake-Off.”

“Solid plan,” I agreed. “Well, thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for dinner.”

“Ha! No way. I’m sorry you expected a successful date and got stuck with me instead.”

“Nah, it wasn’t that bad.” He winked. “I’ve had worse dates.”

I pursed my lips, fighting back a smile, and picked my purse up off the floor of the car. “Good luck with your book, Maverick.” I got out of the car and walked toward the bakery, fishing in my purse for the keys to the front door. I would have gone around the back to the bakery kitchen door but I wasn’t even sure I had a back door key on my car keys.

I unlocked the bakery door and peered back over my shoulder as I stepped through the doorframe. Maverick’s features were illuminated by the streetlight on the other side of the road, and he nodded goodnight. With a quick return of the gesture, I closed the door behind me and locked it, hesitating at the window until I saw him pull away and disappear down the street.