Page 52 of Catching Feelings

“Fancy weird?” I laugh as I take a seat across from him.

“I’m looking forward to you proving me wrong.” He stretches his legs and uncaps my iced tea before sliding it across the table for me.

“Thank you.” I eye him over the bottle and take a sip.

Miles fidgets in his seat, his gaze bouncing between my mouth and a spot on the wall over my right shoulder. He picks at the label of his lemonade and taps his fingers on the table. He’s uncharacteristically nervous.

Am I flattered he waited for me by my car and asked me to dinner? Yes. Am I wondering why he sought me out? Even more of a yes. There must be something bothering him to seek me out. There isn’t much I can do for him that anyone else in his life can’t.

If it’s medical attention, even though he calls me Doc, he knows I’m just a pediatric nurse. My shifts in the ER were eye-opening and taught me more than I’d ever learn in a classroom.

“Order sixty-nine,” the girl behind the counter calls.

“They’re calling our number.” Miles gives me his signature grin and winks before he gets up.

When he returns with our extra-large hand-tossed loaded pizza and basket of fries, all signs of nervousness are gone and conversation flows easily.

“How does this pizza measure up to your high standards?” he asks as he reaches for his fourth slice, while I dab my mouth with my napkin after finishing my first.

“High standards?” I chuckle. “I’m not a pizza snob, but I like trying different combinations of food. I don’t eat out often, because it’s expensive, but when I do, I like ordering something I don’t normally eat at home. And then I challenge myself by trying to create the dish.”

I reach for a second slice. My thighs will hate me for it, but I’m hungry.

“What’s your signature dish?” Miles asks.

“Signature dish? It’s not like I cook for royalty.” I pick up the slice of pizza and bite the end as a string of cheese sticks to my chin.

Miles reaches across the table and drags his finger along my jawline, then wraps the cheese around his finger. “But you enjoy cooking?” He brings his finger to his mouth and licks the cheese off it.

My eyes grow wide and unfamiliar tingles flutter between my legs as I watch his tongue glide along his bottom lip. It must be the extra calories going to my thighs.

“Rowan?” The deep timbre of his voice has me blinking away my lust.

“Mm. What was that?”

“Cooking. You enjoy it?”

I nod. “You could say it’s my love language. I’ve always loved cooking and baking, and it makes me happy to do that for others.”

He dips a fry into ketchup and points it at me. “What’s the most complicated dish you’ve ever made?”

“Hm.” I take a bite of pizza and chew while I think. “I guess baklava. I mean, it’s not overly complicated but it’s time consuming. And delicious, if you have a sweet tooth.”

“I do, and I’ve never had it before. What makes it so complicated?”

“You’ve never had baklava?” I gasp dramatically and point my crust at him. “You deprived soul. And you call yourself a food connoisseur.”

“I never called myself that.” He chuckles.

“Um, excuse me.” I clear my throat and lower my voice, trying to sound like him, “Trust me, you’ll love Papa Roni’s. If there’s one thing I’m an expert in, it’s food.”

Miles rolls his shoulders back and puffs out his chest. “There’s something else I’m good at.”

His eyes turn dark and I struggle to swallow the bite of pizza in my mouth. Before my mind can go too far in the gutter, he changes his tone to light and friendly.

“Tell me I was wrong about Papa Roni’s. Is this not the best hand-tossed pizza you’ve ever had?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my smile. The pizza is good. The crust, light and airy. Not too saucy. A good ratio of cheese, veggies, and bacon. But it isn’t anything unique.

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