Page 23 of Text Appeal

I laugh. Then I sigh because what a night.

“You were right,” he says. “We needed to do prep work. Learn more about each other and get our stories straight.”

“Yeah.”

“On the plus side, my mother was so alarmed by the shade of red you turned from eating the chili that she stopped giving us shit.”

“True.”

He taps his spoon against his lips. He has nice lips. I can admit as much now that I have stopped wanting to punch him in the mouth. “Can’t believe you ate it all,” he says. “You are very…committed.”

“I won’t be upset if you say ‘stubborn.’”

“So fucking stubborn,” he repeats in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You just wouldn’t back down. Tears were rollingdown your face and you kept saying you loved it. But, Riley, to be honest, I don’t think anyone believed you.”

I snort.

He grins. “I’m sorry.”

“Look at you trying not to laugh.”

“I swear, it was never my intention to cause you pain,” he says as sincerely as possible while again holding back that fucking smile. The man is a triple threat, handsome, funny, and sweet. Liking him too much feels risky. My mind would rest easier if he was just less in general. “Have you always had a problem with hot food?”

“If you must know, I was at a sleepover when I was nine or so and got dared to drink some of their dad’s special chili sauce.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“It was made with Carolina Reapers.”

He hangs his head, and a long strand of golden hair falls forward. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” I agree. “I haven’t been able to eat hot stuff ever since. It’s like my body flashes back to that night.”

“Chili sauce trauma.”

“Yeah.”

Main Street is peaceful at this hour. There’s a sky full of stars above us. All the old buildings are silhouetted against the dark with the displays in the cafes and shop-front windows glowing. It’s so quiet. Just us and the wind and some horny insects calling for some company nearby. I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave. Port Stewart is kind of perfect.

“Are you sniffing me?” asks Connor.

“No.” I laugh. “I’m smelling the sea air.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay with you?”

“It’s fine. Have at it.”

“Thanks. For a first date,” I say, “there was certainly a lot of crying.”

“That was unexpected,” he agrees.

“First your mother, and then Nicole getting misty eyed over our faux love story, and of course me.”

“You’re forgetting when Lulu laughed so hard at how red your face was turning that she cried.”

“Mm. Yeah. I’m not sure I want children.”

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