Page 43 of SALT

His eyes drop to his glass, and he grabs the bottle of wine, topping it off as he says, "The name is not important."

"Well, what if I want to make it again, and I need the recipe?"

"Then I'll help you make it."

"What if I want to make it for you?"

He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and shakes his head. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I don't understand what the big deal is," I say as I hop back onto the counter. "It's the first recipe you ever taught me how to make." I shrug. "I'm going to try and make it on my own eventually anyway."

His eyes meet mine. "Marry Me Chicken."

Those eyes already make me weak, but his words have me stumbling. "I'm sorry?—"

"The recipe," he nods toward the simmering dish. "It's called 'Marry Me Chicken.'"

He reaches for his glass, but those dark orbs never leave mine as they stare into my soul and my mouth goes dry. My brain was already spinning from all the truth he's given me today, but now I'm lost in a beautiful oblivion with a million thoughts running through my head. In the end, only one matters: the man I want to spend my forever with just made me "Marry Me Chicken."

"Stormy is giving me a ride home tonight," I say after Everett passes me my coffee.

When I opened the front door this morning to leave for work, he was sitting on the top step of the stone staircase, waiting. He told me he'd like it if I'd ride with him even though I didn't have to, and of course I said yes. He probably knew he wouldn't be getting a no, but he wasn't expecting me to say I'd be hanging out with Stormy on my birthday. After last night, spending tonight with him was a sure thing, or so he thought. It would have been, but I said yes to Stormy before he ever gave me any truths, and while I want him with every ounce of my being, I know I have to play hard to get a little. Everett knows I want him, but it's good to make a man sweat a bit so he doesn't forget how good what he has is.

His lips thin as he places his cup in the center console. "What time are you coming home?"

"I don't know. I'm not really sure what our plans are, and she just mentioned having a drink."

"I don't want you getting in a car with someone who is drinking." He rubs his hand through his beard, perturbed. "You'll have your phone on you this time?" His eyes leave the road to find mine.

"Yes, I'll have my phone."

"It's just the two of you?"

He's asking a lot of questions, questions that make my belly flutter because they sound a lot like worry and jealousy—two emotions that are sure to make him face the root of their origin.

"I think so. She's new in town, and Mackenzie is in Florida. Since I never went back to living on campus after last semester, I haven't been hanging out with my SIU friends."

"Just be careful around her."

"Is there something I should know?"

"You should never be completely trusting of someone you just met. I don't know Stormy, but I do know Lauren, and she has a history in this town."

Lauren is interested in Everett. They've both admitted they have a past, and while things are changing between us, I'm unsure where he stands with her.

We pull into the parking lot at the stadium, and as he collects his wallet and cup out of the console, I ask, "Why did you let me believe Lauren was at your house for a date?"

He pauses but doesn't give me his eyes. "Letting you believe I was touching her was better than putting my hands on you."

Without another word, he exits the car. "Ouch." His words taken at surface level sting, but if I look at them through the lens of last night, they hurt a little less. He wants to touch me, but he's torn between what he wants and what he thinks he should do. Too bad for him, I'm not, and it's my birthday.

"When you asked me to be your date today, I didn't know I had competition," Stormy says as she gestures to a bouquet of red roses as I return from the bathroom. Without even seeing the tag, I know exactly who they are from—Everett. Since I turned eight, the only gifts he's ever given me are on my birthday, and it's always been a bouquet of red roses, one for every year. "Also, when you asked me if I wanted to go to the game today, I didn't consider that we had to work during the game."

"Honestly, when I asked, I hadn't thought about it myself. Last year, when I worked at Hayes Fields, I wasn't the best employee. I came and went as I pleased, but I also wasn't the sole person running the concession stands, so it was a little easier… and I don't think anyone truly expected me to actually do work."

"Think I can get away with that?" she says as she turns on the POS station.

"Considering it's just the two of us for now, that would be a hard no."

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