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I raised my eyebrows. “Really? You’re going to write off two muffins, four slices of cheesecake, two loaves of bread, and a croissant?”
He glanced at the bag. “How did you know what I ordered?”
I tapped my ear. “It’s called listening. I’m rather good at it.”
Snorting, he pulled out a muffin box. “I should have gotten one of those chocolate muffins. They look amazing.”
“What did you get?”
“Didn’t listen to that bit, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“White chocolate and raspberry and lemon and blueberry.”
I nodded my approval. “Good choices. The white chocolate and raspberry is my favorite, but I needed something a bit chocolatier today. Do you want one?”
“Want one?”
“The double chocolate muffin?”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, looking at the remaining third of mine.
I caught Felicity’s eye and lifted my muffin, wordlessly asking her to bring one over.
“Piper, it’s—”
“Consider it a thank you,” I replied, meeting his eyes. “For giving me a ride home last night.”
He smiled, nodding, and put the box back in the bag.
Felicity brought the muffin over and set it on the table with a napkin. “Two muffins? Are you sick?”
I laughed. “No, it’s for Maverick. Goodwill gesture in the hope he’ll go away.”
“Giving people your muffins tends to have the opposite effect.” She grinned. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thanks.” I smiled, and she left. “Well? Try it.”
Maverick pulled the small plate over and peeled back the muffin case, then broke a chunk off with his fingers. He almost moaned when he bit down into it, and I had to clear my throat and hope like hell I didn’t blush at the sound.
“That’s so fucking good,” he said after swallowing. “That might be the best muffin I’ve ever had.”
I’d been doing this for a long time, but damn.
That never got old.
“Thanks.” I blushed. “They’re one of my favorites to make. It’s my own recipe and took six months to perfect.”
“Well, those six months were worth it.” Maverick wiped the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I’ll ever eat another muffin unless you’ve made it.”
More blushing. Ugh. “Thank you. Feeling inspired for your book? Or are you going to admit why you really came?”
He rubbed his hand over the lower half of his face, dragging it extra slowly across his lips. “I really am here for your baked goods.”
“I’m sure you are, but it’s not the only reason.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“I’m a woman. I could smell bullshit in the womb.”
Maverick choked on a laugh. He reached for his bottle of water and glugged a few mouthfuls, then met my eyes. “All right, I give up.”
“It does make it easier when you do.” I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. “Why are you here?”
He screwed the cap back on his bottle and leaned forward, but not before glancing around the bakery. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
“I’m not sixteen. I’m not falling for that shit.”
He bit back another laugh.
I was funny.
Who knew?
“It’s… business.”
I blinked at him. “Business?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re saying this to get in my pants, I should warn you that it’s futile.”
Maverick’s eyes sparkled. “Noted. It’s still business, though.”
Good God.
Sighing, I stood up and motioned to the table. “Get your stuff. We can talk in the kitchen.”
To his credit, Maverick cleaned up after himself and put his dirty dishes on the counter for Felicity to deal with. I did the same, and after she’d served the last customer, I said, “I’ll be in the back with Mr. Donovan discussing business. Let me know if you need me.”
She smirked. “Yes, boss.”
I pointed my finger at her. “Watch it.”
She didn’t stop grinning.
She was lucky she made good bread or I’d fire her.
Lies.
I wouldn’t.
Nobody else in this town could bake like Felicity. She was mine, and I was keeping her.
I guided Maverick into the kitchen and held up a finger. I needed to check on the latest round of donuts. They were one of the biggest sellers for us and we always needed an afternoon restock. The donuts were done, so I pulled them out and turned off that particular oven.
“What do you want to discuss?” I asked, setting the donuts on a cooling rack. “You don’t mind if I work while we talk, do I?”
“Please, carry on. But be aware that I can and will use it all in my book.”
“Noted. Start talking, then.” I checked all the ovens and set timer on some bread rolls that were a few minutes from being done.
Maverick leaned against a counter. “Remember last night when I said that my heroine in my new book is a baker?”
I paused. “I think so. You suck at it, right?”
“Something like that,” he said dryly. “I tried to bake this morning and, honestly, the only thing I’m baking is my fire alarm. The fire chief actually called me after and asked me to stop or he was going to report me for wasting their time.”
