Page 83 of Let Me Say It Again

I swallowed past a thick lump in my throat. “That’s some answer.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, probably more than you were looking for, but that’s the truth.”

Clearing my throat, I raised a brow. “This woman, what’s she like exactly?”

“You mean, what am I looking for in a future wife?”

Sure, well, when he put it like that. . . . I nodded, unable to get words out.

Grinning now, he appeased me. “She’d be a real ball buster, but have a heart of gold, and be smart as a whip. And we’d have off-the-charts chemistry that would make me want to do nothing all day but lie in bed with her and make love to her.”

All righty then. I wasn’t sure about him, but I was sweating. Was the stove still on? Maybe it was making the house hot. It didn’t make any sense, but just go with it, okay?

I brought a hand to my clammy neck, my heart beating rapidly. “I’m going to go check to see if the air is on,” I said, clearing my throat.

He placed his hand on the table and looked me square in the eyes. “Stay.”

That was a dog command, but fine, I’d listen because honestly I wasn’t positive that my legs would get me far anyway.

“I want to make a toast,” he said, reaching for his glass and picking it up.

Staring into his eyes, I didn’t ever want to look away but made an exception to pick up my glass.

“To pleasant surprises.” He clanked his with mine when he realized my hand wasn’t moving and my eyes were glued to his.

I had to break contact.

It was the only way.

But it didn’t seem possible.

Blinking, I forced myself to do it. Wine usually wasn’t strong enough to make me feel dizzy, which was good because I didn’t need to feel any more off kilter than I already did. I brought the glass to my lips and drank.

A piece of me, a very small sliver, wanted to say something snarky and sabotage this, ruining the moment. I ignored it, though, instead asking, “If you can cook like this, why do you have a chef?”

He laughed, picking sauce up with his ravioli. “Let’s not get carried away. I only know a few simple dishes, and they mostly consist of pasta.”

I licked my lips, making sure I didn’t have any remnants of cheese on them because he was staring at them now. “I don’t know what that’s about, either, but same. I can make pasta, but anything else, and it’s safest to order takeout. Even pasta dishes are touch and go sometimes.”

He took a bite and shook his head. “We should take cooking classes.”

“Together?”

“Yeah. I think they have couples’ ones. Could be fun.”

Was it wrong of me to actually be enjoying the fact that he brought something like that up with me? It was the first timeanyone had cared enough to plan something with me, for us to do together. As sad as that was.

It almost felt like he was planning for after all of this, which I knew wasn’t possible, but it still made me feel good. I had butterflies in my stomach when I thought about it in that way.

I looked up and smiled, only to catch him already looking at me again. More specifically, my lips. “Do I have food on my mouth?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious as I went to wipe the back of my hand across my lips.

He shook his head and leaned forward, his eyes moving between them and my eyes. Attentive. Caring. Generous. Sorry, I was just thinking of the qualities I thought of when I thought of Red. He was all of those things.

Following suit, I leaned forward.

Swallowing, he placed his thumb on my chin. “Is it appropriate to ask for a kiss in the middle of the date?” he asked, a soft demeanor to him that had my heart clenching in my chest. Why did Red have to be such a great guy?

“We’re already engaged, so I don’t think it counts,” I answered in a low voice, hoping whatever spell had been cast over us didn’t break.

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