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“Oh, okay, of course!” She grabbed my hand. “Um, do you want me to get Josh or one of the guys to walk you home?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. It’s just up the street.”

“Are you sure? I can’t let you go. It’s dark.”

“I’m okay. It’s like ninety seconds away.”

“I got her,” Maverick said from behind me. “I need to get my stuff from my car and call a cab anyway.”

“It’s fine, I swear. I—”

He untangled my arm from Holley’s. “She’ll text you when she’s home.”

Great.

This was backfiring.

Should have said yes to my brother.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” I said as Maverick opened the bar door. It was almost freezing outside compared to the heat of the bar, and I shivered.

He pulled off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders. “Don’t argue.”

I didn’t.

“And yes, I did. I need to leave anyway to get some work done tomorrow. I’ve got a bit of inspiration so I’m going to take some notes and see if writing a later scene will help me break through this block.”

“Okay. Well, thanks.”

“Plus you haven’t seemed yourself for a while and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” I looked over at him and smiled, but it was a weak effort, and I had the feeling he saw right through it. “Stayed too late as it is.”

“Sure.” He smiled.

For the first time since I’d seen him at the table and laid all my cards down, there was an awkwardness between us. The silence wasn’t comfortable at all, and I said the first thing that popped into my head.

“So, who was the girl?”

Smooth, Piper. Real freakin’ smooth.

Idiot.

Mav glanced over at me with a small laugh. “Nobody special.”

“She was cute.”

“She was,” he said slowly. “She also knew who I was, so that took the shine off a little bit.”

“Maybe she likes your books.”

“She probably likes the books I give to my accountant, sure.”

“Well, you never know.”

We were already at the bakery, and we walked down the side alley to where both our cars were parked in my designated spots. Felicity was going to have to find somewhere else to pull up in the morning, but that wouldn’t be a problem given the time.

I would have to text her and let her know.

“Thank you for walking me home.” I shrugged his jacket off my shoulders and held it out to him.

He took it with a little hesitation. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.” I gave him another weak smile and pulled my keys out of my purse, then unlocked the apartment access door.

“She wasn’t my type.”

“I’m sorry?” I looked back over my shoulder.

“The girl. At the bar,” Mav said, meeting my eyes. “She wasn’t my type.”

“Oh. Of course. Sorry, I spaced there for a moment.” I looked down at the ground. “Maybe you’ll find someone who is next week.”

His lips pulled to one side. “Probably not.”

“You never know.”

“Oh, I do. Because talking to that girl tonight made me realize I already know someone who’s my type. Just sucks for me that she only wants to be friends.”

Oh.

Ohh.

His smile reached his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Piper. I’m almost out of bread.” He threw his jacket back on and walked away, shoving his hand in his pocket.

My tummy was warm from the alcohol, and a tinge of bravado flooded through me.

Could I—

No.

I turned away, intending to go up the stairs, but my feet wouldn’t let me, so I held onto the door as he walked away from me. “Mav?”

His step faltered. “Yeah?”

“If this was your book, what would you write?”

He looked over his shoulder, frowning. “What do you mean?”

I looked down at where I was playing with the door handle. “Your book. The one you’re writing now.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Your baker. She doesn’t want to date, right?”

“Right.”

“But the—the guy does.”

He turned, slowly nodding. “Yeah.”

“Well.” I let go of the door, only to fidget with my hands. “Presumably there’s going to be a time that she’s going to change her mind. Or maybe. Or not—not be sure.”

“Yeah.”

“How will you—would you—write that?” I kept my gaze on the floor. “When she knows the guy wants more than friendship but… but she isn’t sure. Like. She saw him talking to someone else and realizes she might be a little wrong.”

Quietly, he laughed. “There’s only one way a scene like that can end in a romance.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Assuming the conversation happens after a night out and he’s walked her home to make sure she’s safe,” he said in a low voice. “And he’s just admitted he has some feelings for her, and she’s stopped him leaving to admit she doesn’t know how she feels, he would leave his car and walk back to the door where she’s still standing.”

I swallowed as he did just that, closing the distance between us, then raised his hand.


Tags: Emma Hart The Introvert's Guide Erotic