Page 45 of The Perfect Love

With all our food in hand, we find a picnic table in the small park and splay out all the food.

“This looks incredible. I have to say, you’re pretty good at this whole date-planning thing.”

He shrugs. “Sometimes getting dressed up for a fancy dinner is nice, but spending the day together seemed like a better way to get to know each other.”

“It has been.” I take a bite of the chicken tacos and almost groan in happiness. So good. “Is it weird that I already feel like I’ve known you forever?”

“I felt that way the second we met. It’s stronger now, though.” His thigh presses against mine. “Especially finding another connection between us. And talking. I know we didn’t go too deep, but I liked learning more about you. The bigger things and the tiny ones.”

“Me too. Especially the little things.”

His eyes lock with mine and a blush creeps into my cheeks. I’m about to turn away, break the intense gaze, and focus on the foodin front of me, but he catches my cheek, cupping it with his palm. The softest smile appears on his face, like he’s in awe of me.

“Can we keep doing this? Talking, spending time together, dating? I don’t want to push, but every second I spend with you makes me want another.”

I’m nodding before he’s even finished speaking, but it takes my mouth a second to catch up. “Yes. I know I’ve been cautious about this, but please don’t take my hesitance for disinterest. I’m enjoying spending time with you too. That sounds stupid and too simple for what we’ve been doing, but—”

“Not stupid.”

He stares at me for a moment longer, then his gaze drifts down to my lips. I hold my breath, lips tingling as I wait for him to kiss me, but true to how he’s been all day, he holds off, sliding his hand down my cheek and into my hair, giving one of the strands a playful tug before turning back to his food.

I do the same, even though my heart is beating so hard, I’m struggling to catch my breath.

Shoving more taco into my mouth will help, obviously. And when I do, I groan out loud this time, and Trevor laughs.

“That good?”

“They remind me of taco nights growing up. My grandma has the best taco recipes. We’d do a whole taco bar. Her, my dad, and Robbie.”

“Family recipe?” he asks.

I laugh. “Nope. As my grandma says, she’s an English bastardess.”

Trevor chokes on his taco. “What?”

“Her words. She’s a mix of British, Welsh, Scottish, and Irish.”

“She sounds like a character.”

“Most definitely. She’s where I got my love of spicy romance books from.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”

“Yep. Don’t act so surprised. Think about it. One day your mom is going to be the spicy romance reading grandma.”

His face scrunches. “I don’t ever want to think about it like that again.” I can’t help but laugh at his wounded puppy expression. “Subject change, please.”

“Fine…” I take another bite of my taco, then ask, “Do you cook?”

He nods. “Yep. My parents were always in the kitchen together cooking. After my dad died, my mom had me in the kitchen with her to keep that tradition alive. Every year, we cook up a whole Thanksgiving feast, even though it’s usually just us and sometimes Hyla.”

“That’s really cool. Special.”

“Yeah. What about you? You cook?”

“I’m decent, but I get bored with anything longhand. I can do basic baked goods and one-pot meals, but beyond that, I lose interest and burn things.”

“So, not a hobby then?”

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