Page 60 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

"Yeah," I say, but this time I add the truth. "I just can't believe I have you."

Chapter 18

The scent of garlic and basil fills Cade's kitchen, mingling with the warm glow of wine and easy laughter. He moves around the space with unexpected grace, chopping vegetables while I sit on the counter, swinging my legs and sipping from my glass.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one cooking," I observe, watching him add perfectly diced onions to the sizzling pan.

He glances over, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You are. I'm just helping."

"This doesn't look like helping. This looks like taking over. You're crowding me."

"Fine. You handle the sauce." He nudges the wooden spoon toward me, stepping aside just enough to let me slide into place before him.

I take the spoon, but before I can stir, his arms encircle my waist from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder to survey my technique. The solid warmth of him against my back sends tingles down my spine.

"Am I doing it wrong already?" I ask, aware of how my voice has softened.

"Just supervising." His lips brush below my ear, making it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. "Making sure you don't ruin my dinner."

"Your dinner? I thought this was our dinner."

"I can share," he murmurs, hands sliding to my hips.

This moment feels too good, too perfect, and a familiar doubt creeps in. Is this just a performance? Another facet of Cade's charm, carefully cultivated to get what he wants?

I push the thought away, determined to enjoy this moment for what it is without analyzing it to death. His lips find my neck again, and I tilt my head to give him better access, the sauce momentarily forgotten.

"It's going to burn," I manage to say, though making no move to stop him.

"Can't have that." His voice rumbles against my skin, sending shivers down my spine as he reaches around me to adjust the heat. "Better?"

"Not if you want to actually eat dinner tonight."

His laugh vibrates through me, warm and genuine. "Fair point."

Somehow, despite the distractions, we manage to complete the meal — pasta with a tomato cream sauce, garlic bread, and a simple salad. Cade sets the small dining table while I plate the food.

As we settle across from each other, wine glasses refilled, the question that's been burning inside me all evening finally escapes. "Do you always do this? With dates, I mean."

Cade raises an eyebrow. "Do what?"

He gives me a look like am I really bringing up other girls right now, but I have to. I have to know if this is normal Cade behavior.

"This." I gesture vaguely around us. "The cooking, the hovering, the…" I trail off, suddenly feeling stupid for asking.

"The what?" he asks, his direct gaze making it impossible to look away. "No. I don't."

"Your turn," he says, taking a bite of pasta. "Were you like this with Byron?"

I consider the question, comparing the nervous excitement I feel around Cade to the comfortable routine Byron and I had settled into. "No," I admit. "I wasn't."

I hide the smirk growing on my lips and blush. Byron didn't make me feel like high school all over again.

He takes a sip of his wine. "Good."

I twirl pasta around my fork, watching Cade over the rim of his wine glass.

"This is actually really good," I admit, gesturing at my plate, ignoring whatever tension was building there. "Who taught you to cook?"

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