Page 26 of Tricking an Introvert

Here. He was here, dressed in a light gray shirt and a navy blue blazer with beige pants. She didn't know preppy could look quite so hot.

"Hey!"

“Hey back. Lewis."

"Cole. How did you coerce Theresa into going out on a Friday night?"

Cole shrugged. "I just asked."

"Damn!" Lewis bumped his fist. "Good on you, man."

"You didn't ask, you informed me we were going somewhere. Don't encourage him, Lewis." She grabbed her purse from the console in the entryway. "Ready to go."

"Great. We're a little early for the reservation but the restaurant has a great cocktail bar."

"Oh, we're going to a restaurant? So good of you to inform me."

Cole laughed out loud.

"I'm the one who is supposed to dislike surprises, you know."

She glared. "I like surprises just fine. I just don't like going out after a long day. It's exhausting. When I do stuff in the evening, I shorten my workload during the day."

Cole nodded his understanding. "My apologies. I'll give you some notice next time."

There would be a next time?

"One of my friends had a reservation tonight at a good restaurant and had to cancel because his date fell through. I pretty much sent you that message as soon as he asked if I wanted to go instead."

He'd managed to park the Tesla close by. Cole opened her door first before circling the car and sliding into the driver's seat.

"Sorry I'm grumpy. I just don't do…" What, exactly? "Things," she finished lamely. "I don't do things at night often. My friends meet up every other week, whereas I only go once a month or so."

"I get it. Michael is the same. I've taken to formulating my suggestions as set plans with him—otherwise, the answer is always no."

Well, that was somewhat familiar.

Tessa didn't know how to deal with the fact that he already had some tricks to work around her antisocial behavior.

"I'm just surprised you didn't tell me to fuck off, really."

"I considered it," she admitted.

Cole grinned, glancing at her through the frames of his sunglasses. "And you chose not to. Well, consider me flattered, Theresa."

She groaned. "Please don't. It makes me sound old. And posh. Possibly British."

"There are worse things. But I agree. You're more of a Tessa. It's cuter. Softer. More you."

She was glad that his eyes were fixed on the road, because if her reflection in the windshield was any indication, she was rocking the tomato look.

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