Page 102 of Recipe for Rivals

I expected things to be a little awkward between us as we got settled, that period where you try to find a rhythm with someone else, but everything seemed to flow easily. Dusty went inside and brought out plates of roast with carrots and potatoes, sliced bread, and salad. We dished up plates on the patio furniture and ate under the awning, watching the sunset change the sky and talking about everything from what shows we watched to our favorite things to cook.

Dusty glanced at me sideways. “Is it awful that I kind of want to stay here tonight?”

I held his gaze. “No.” I wanted to stay here forever, so I understood.

My phone started ringing. I looked to make sure it wasn’t Gigi. When I saw Carter’s picture, I silenced it.

The moment was broken. “We should head to the school. Your cookies look great, by the way. I might have checked them out when I was setting up. How did you know football moms would pay a lot of money for jerseys and footballs?”

“I like a good theme.” I shrugged. My phone started ringing again, but I clicked the button to silence it. There was no way on this green earth I would answer Carter’s call while on a date. I stood up, crossing my chilly arms over my chest and moving to the railing to look out over the view. “This is incredible.”

“I like it,” he said easily, coming to stand at my side. Dusty hesitated before reaching over and taking my hand. I let him hold it. I wanted to stop resisting him. Blair’s voice was in my head:definitely let him kiss you. Gigi had given her approval. My kids liked him.

What was getting in my way? Myself, obviously.

“You okay?” he asked.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a first date.”

Dusty scoffed, his arms wrapping around me. His chin restedlightly on the top of my head while we looked at the disappearing sun. “This isn’t our first date, Nova. We did that ages ago. Furniture moving, lasagna, tornado night. I count all of those.”

“When you say it like that, then really we’re on like date four.”

“Something around there.”

My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it. Leaning back, I looked at Dusty. His thumb brushed along my jaw, then beneath my bottom lip, his eyes following the motion. He released a breath and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

“So far, so good,” I told him.

A grin split his mouth into the widest smile. I couldn’t help returning it. Dusty pulled me closer, wrapping his hands over my back. He pressed a feather light kiss to my temple, then another one on my cheekbone. He moved lower with each kiss, taking his time, until he reached the corner of my lips.

Dusty paused, like he was waiting for permission to continue.

I was frozen still, my body shaking with anticipation and need. I wanted him to finish, to close the distance and take away my concerns. I wanted to feel nothing but Dusty.

His lips hovered over mine. It didn’t take a degree in rocket science to realize he would not be the one to close the distance. He had given that to me, a brightly wrapped gift, his awareness of my need to keep things slow between us. If I wasn’t ready, he wouldn’t force it.

I was ready.

“Nova,” he said, after I didn’t move.

My heart thrummed, my pulse beating so loudly I could hear it in my ears. Just one moment more, and I would have been brave enough.

He didn’t release me. “We should be going.”

“Okay.” My voice was dry and scratchy—too much mouth breathing going on—and I swallowed. Disappointment cut through me. I wanted to rewind the clock and just do it. Just take the step. My skin burned where his lips had dragged a trail along the side of my face. But he was right. He needed to get to the school. “Can I use your bathroom first?”

Dusty hesitated, then smiled. “Of course.”

He showed me inside while he put the food away, and I admired the interior. It was simple and outdated, but comfortable and worn, like the sofa in the living room had been there and loved for his entire life.

When I met him back in the kitchen, I looked at the empty space in front of the bay windows and blinked.

Dusty shot me a sheepish smile. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” I followed him out, but my brain wouldn’t make the connections that seemed to be obvious.

It wasn’t until we had reached the main road that it hit me: Dusty had no kitchen table.

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