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“Are you planning to drop me off somewhere deserted where no one can find me?”

You never know. A lot of rumors float around about Maverick. One can never be too careful .

“I might if you don’t get in and hush.”

Hush. That’s better than shut up or “Hey, down this drink and let me secure this gag in your mouth.”

“Where are we going?”

Maverick rubs his forehead like I’m giving him a headache. “To get something to eat. You’re hungry, yes?”

I told you he was an angel, and people just talk shit about him.

I grin really big and do a little bounce on the balls of my feet.

“Damn straight I’m hungry!” I streak past him and burrow into his black leather seats.

Gah, why must everything of his feel so comfortable?

“Besides, you owe me. You scared my blood sugar low.” Seriously.

Sitting in this seat, I’m suddenly exhausted and starving—all his fault.

He slams the door, ignoring my comment, and walks around the front of the car, shaking his head. Must be the headache.

In what seems to be an hour, Maverick pulls up to a little pizza place and throws the car in park. “Do you like pizza? I know it’s not mac and cheese but?—”

“Don’t even start,” I interrupt. “I’ve had a stressful night, and I could use a little less of your sarcasm right now, okay?”

Yes, it was a bold thing to say, but when he’s sarcastic, he seems to be in a little better mood.

One of his eyebrows arches in a way that could be playful or threatening. I’m going with playful. “I want plain cheese.”

That gets a better reaction out of him. “Just cheese? What kind of person are you?”

I cock my own damn eyebrow. “A plain one.”

He chuckles, getting out of the car. “There’s nothing about you that’s plain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, following behind him as he pauses to lock the car. “Are you saying I’m complicated? ”

I guess that would be true. I have my issues like everyone else.

“What do you want to drink?”

Great, he’s ignoring me. “Why are you asking me about my order in the parking lot and not inside?”

He holds the door open. “Because you started ordering in the car. I thought that might be your thing.”

“I thought I asked you to tone down the sarcasm?”

“I thought I asked you to hush?”

Touché.

I grin, knowing he doesn’t really mean it, and walk inside. The restaurant is small and quaint. Dare I say it’s even cozy. It’s exactly my thing, and I’m in love with it.

We follow the nice woman to a booth in the corner. It seems like she knows Maverick, but she never addresses him by name. After taking our drink orders, she leaves, and of course, I must be nosy. “Do you know her?”

He’s mid-sip into his water. Yes, you heard that correctly. He’s drinking water with his pizza. Who drinks water with their pizza? Everyone knows you need carbonation with pizza.

“Why do you think I know her?”

I watch for any signs of nervousness. None. “She smiled at you,” I note.

“I imagine that would fare well for her with tips.”

He’s impossible.

“I mean, is she one of your clients? Like me?”

He makes an amused noise. “Like you?”

I nod. “A client?”

A sinister grin forms, and he leans on the table like he’s trying to get closer to tell me a secret. “Remember what I told you the rules are for being my client?”

Ew. I think this is a tricky question. “Can I admit that I may have forgotten a few minor details?” I was pretty worked up that day. I can’t even remember what I was wearing and if I had eaten. Those few days blur together .

“Let me remind you then,” he says all sultry and?—

“What? No! Why are you giving me another card? I didn’t ask for a favor.”

He slides the ace of hearts across the table, clenching the cap of the marker in between his teeth just like last time, and scribbles out IOU before placing the cap back. “You never talk about me or my favors, remember?”

I do now.

“But I was just talking to you about it,” I argue.

“Never in public.”

But that doesn’t make sense. “Don’t you do business in public?”

He puts the marker back into his pocket. “Sometimes.”

“And . . .”

He doesn’t smile. “My rules.”

“So that’s just it. You can make up the rules, and I’m just supposed to do whatever you say and be indebted up to my earrings?”

“Sounds about right.”

It sounds unfair to me.

“Why were you cooking for me tonight?”

He’s changing the subject, and I’m not sure I want to. Sure, I don’t want to end up with yet another IOU, but didn’t I already try to explain this, and he cut me off?

I let out a deep sigh; talking to Maverick is exhausting.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you. I know it hasn’t been easy living with me for the past couple of days.

I’ve been crying and just a total disaster.

I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and that I appreciate you helping me get my stuff from the apartment.

I know it was a deal and all that—” I wave the comment away in case he tries explaining the rules again.

“But I appreciate your kindness nonetheless.”

“So, you thought cooking boxed mac and cheese would be thanks enough?”

“Are you making fun of me?” Seriously. Is that a smile on his face? I think it is !

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’re laughing.”

“I’m not laughing.”

Yes, he is, and it’s cute. Really, really cute.

“I’m not that great of a cook, and well, Tucker was always the one who cooked in our relationship, and I noticed you mainly just have a bunch of fruits and vegetables in the refrigerator, so I thought I would cook something warm and yummy for you.”

“Warm and yummy,” he repeats but in a way that makes me think he’s thinking of something else or mocking me.

“Clearly, I’m still perfecting the recipe,” I say, interrupting his lazy smirk.

“Clearly.”

Now I’m sure he’s mocking me.

“I’m going to learn how to cook when I get my own place. There’s so much I didn’t do when I was with Tucker.”

He stirs his water with the straw, only glancing up at me briefly. “Like what?”

I pause, thinking hard about all the crazy things floating around in my head the past couple of days. “Like?—”

Our waitress places the plain cheese pizza in the center of the table, breaking our connection.

“I thought you didn’t want cheese.”

He pulls off a slice and slaps it on my plate. “I never said that.”

“You asked what kind of person I am for wanting plain cheese,” I remind him.

He puts two slices on his plate. “And? Where did you hear that I wouldn’t or couldn’t eat plain cheese?”

He’s freaking infuriating!

“Fine. You win,” I say, taking a bite of the cheesiest, most delicious pizza I’ve ever tasted. “Oh, wow. This is really good.” I moan with each bite. “You’re going to need to carry me out of here. I plan on eating way more than this one piece.”

He snorts. “That’s why we ordered the whole pie. ”

“I’m just saying,” I continue, slapping another piece of pizza on my plate. “I’m not one of those girls who won’t eat in front of a man. I honestly don’t care what men think of me anymore.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last part since I’m not being honest. The fact is, I do care what he thinks of me—sometimes. I wish I didn’t, though. I wish I could give zero fucks and not care what anyone thought, but I do.

I shrug when he only stares at me like I’m a mystery or weird. “Anyway, that’s what I want to work on. Me. Who I am and what I enjoy. I don’t know where the old Ainsley went, but I’m going to set out to find her. This time, I’m doing me.”