When the waitress dropped the bill on the table, Max pulled out his wallet.

“My treat? As a welcome to California?”

Olivia withdrew her hand from her purse and smiled at him.

“Thank you. And thanks for introducing me to this place; you were right about that pie.”

He smiled to himself as he tossed bills on the table. He hadn’t been at all sure she’d let him pay for dinner. He hoped that meant she liked him some. Because he already knew he liked her a lot.

They walked out to the parking lot, and Olivia pulled her phone out of her purse.

“Well, I should get a car to get me home, so …”

Max put his hand on her shoulder.

“You didn’t drive? Can I drive you home?”

Please let her say yes.

“I didn’t drive, no, because … I still haven’t bought a car. So yes, I’ll take that ride home.”

He took an exaggerated step backward.

“Wait. You still don’t have a car?” he asked. “And you say you’re from California?”

He’d hoped to make her laugh, and he’d succeeded.

“I know, I know, but I’ve been so busy ever since I got here. I haven’t had time to buy one yet.”

He led her toward his car.

“That’s something a New Yorker would say.”

She glared at him, but he was pretty sure he could tell she was smiling behind that.

“It is not,” she said. “A New Yorker wouldn’t even have a driver’s license! They’d just complain about the public transportation here forever.” She bit her lip. “And I hate to say this, but they’d have a point.”

He opened the passenger door for her, and she got in.

“I hate to cede the point to the New Yorkers, but you’re right about that.”

They smiled at each other as he closed the door.

Max spread his big, firm hands on the steering wheel, and Olivia couldn’t keep her eyes off them. Or her body from remembering every single touch from those hands—when she’d first walked in and he’d put his hand on her arm and then her back; when he’d touched and then briefly held her hand at the table; when he’d handed her napkins and pie and ketchup, and his fingers had lingered for a few extra seconds on hers … or had that been her imagination? And then just now, when he’d put his hand on her shoulder, and she’d wanted it to stay there for so much longer.

She smiled to herself. Tonight was going to be good.

“What’s your address?” he asked.

She gave it to him, then double-checked in her phone.