"Let's get you home," Dalton said. "What is your address?"
Maya frowned, craning her neck to look out the window for a glimpse of her pickup truck. "I can't leave my pickup truck here,"
"But you are in no condition to drive," Dalton pointed out. He was right; every muscle in her body ached, and she feels slightly dizzy.
"But I can't leave my pickup truck here," she sighed.
"Can I drive your pickup truck then?" Dalton offered.
"My pickup truck?" Maya's eyes darted around, taking in the interior of his luxurious car and comparing it to her beat-up truck. It was so inferior to her vehicle. There was no way he would be comfortable driving her pickup.
As if Dalton could read her mind, he said, "You are comfortable driving it; why wouldn't I be?"
Maya shyly rubbed the back of her neck as she said, "All right, then."
"Keys," Dalton said as he hurled forth his hand.
