Page 90 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

“Fine, so I’m not super handy in the kitchen. But what was wrong with the cookies?”

Dex’s eyes sparkle. “They were a little crunchy.”

“Sorry,” I say, wincing. “I’m not sure how that happened.”

“Believe it or not,” he says, “I found it incredibly endearing.”

“Not. I donotbelieve that.”

He shrugs, still looking amused. “Believe what you want. It’s true.” He leans in and presses a lightning-quick kiss to the tip of my nose, and I swear I melt on the spot. “Now come on,” he says, oblivious to the way my insides are turning to mush. “Finish chopping, and then I’m putting you in charge of stirring.”

“I can stir,” I say.

Probably.

* * *

I can stir,as it turns out. I mean, I definitely have to have a timer so that our noodles don’t turn to mush. But once that’s all set up, I’m free to move on autopilot, swilling the spaghetti around as Dex chops and mixes and seasons until finally I’ve got a pot of spaghetti and homemade red sauce in front of me.

And it’s good. It’ssogood.

“This is ridiculously delicious,” I say a few moments later, once we’re both seated at his small dining room table, steaming plates of pasta in front of us. I’ve never had red sauce like this—it’s less of a tomato puree and more a chunky mix of a variety of vegetables. But it’s the stewed tomatoes that make it so good—they’re lighter than sauce out of a jar, and it’s a change I really like. I don’t like feeling weighed down by the food I eat.

“I told you,” he says with a shrug, “I have skills in the kitchen.”

“Hmm. I feel like I should be bringing something more to this relationship.”

Dex cocks a brow at me, watching as I twirl spaghetti around my fork. “You’re the chill pill,” he says. “The one who makes me relax and rest.”

“I’m not sure ‘chill pill’ is ever used in that context, but I’ll take it,” I say, grinning at him. He grins back, and we finish our meals, talking and laughing together.

After that we curl up on the couch and watch a movie—You’ve Got Mail,because apparently I wasn’t the only one who made the connections between the film and our pen pal situation. I snuggle into Dex, who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me. It’s a surreal feeling, being held by him—by someone who genuinely seems to care about me. I mean, it’s too soon to call this love. But someday? Yeah.

Dex is a man I could easily fall in love with. And that’s…well, it’s scary, but it’s exciting, too.

When it starts getting later, the clock reading eleven, I know it’s probably time for me to go. The longer I sit here with Dex, the more I want to kiss him, and the more I want to do things we’re not ready to be doing. He’s a complete gentleman, of course, which doesn’t at all surprise me, but it does make me happy.

“I should go,” I say resignedly as the movie credits start rolling.

“Yeah,” Dex says with a sigh. “I don’t want you to, but…you should.”

I can’t suppress my spike of happiness, both that he doesn’t want me to leave and that he’s putting aside his desire anyway in order to keep things from going too fast.

“Walk me home?” I say, forcing myself off of his couch. It’s surprisingly comfortable; if you would have asked me what kind of couch he had, I would have said some stiff leather contraption that would look more at home in an office lobby than a home. But I guess that assumption would be based on when we first met; Dex has shown me time and again that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

He stands too, linking his fingers through mine and then walking wordlessly to the door. The night is cool for a change, although that could just be because of how late it is.

“So,” Dex says, looking over at me as we stroll at a leisurely pace. “I know this wasn’t fancy or anything”—hesitation creeps into his voice—“but do you think I’ve earned a second date?”

Second date, third date, fourth date—he’s earned them all, unless he reveals himself to be the world’s greatest con artist.

I don’t tell him this, though. Instead I just say, “I think you’ve definitely earned a second date.” I pause, then say, “HaveIearned a second date?”

The street lamp overhead throws shadows over Dex’s face as he smiles at me. “I think so, yes. This Friday?”

Friday? That’s days away.Days.

“Meh,” I say. “We could do it sooner, if you want.”

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