Page 27 of One Whopper of a Love Story

Mom had no clue how warm those costumes could be. When I worked parties there was all kinds of sweat.

“I figured I’d try something new.” Watching Nico work out was going to be something new, but now I was determined to break a sweat. It would probably only take a push-up or two to get me there.

“He must be quite the catch.”

“He is. Listen, I’ll be at his place soon, so I’ll just—”

“Put the oil in the pan and sauté the bell pepper and onion a little before adding in the rice.” She continued through the steps, refreshing my memory.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. And, Layla, keep me posted. How long have you been seeing him?”

“A week and a half. We haven’t made anything official or anything, but he’s nice, and we see each other every day.”

Mom stayed quiet.

“We talk and have dinner together. Last night, we went dancing. I like spending time with him.”

“You sound very happy.”

I turned into Nico’s driveway and waved. “I am. Talk to you soon.”

“Love you.” Mom ended the call, and I jumped out, eager to try something new.

Chapter 14

Nico

I opened the garage and grinned as Layla pulled up the driveway. For someone who claimed they were only going to watch me work out, she sure came dressed for exercise.

Hips swaying, she strolled up to me with a grocery bag in each hand. “Let me put this stuff in the fridge, then we can get to the good stuff.”

I took the bags and followed her inside. “I thought we were going to work out first?”

Her face scrunched up in that adorable way. “You are. That’s the good stuff.”

“Oh!” I chuckled, knowing full well what she’d meant the first time. “So you didn’t mean dinner.”

“I hope tacos are okay. I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like tacos, so I thought that was a pretty safe choice.”

“I like tacos.”

“And I’ll make rice. My mom taught me to make it just like my grandma made it. I like to keep the chunks of onion and bell pepper big for people who’d rather eat around the veggies, but other than that, it’s mostly like my grandma made it.” She started unpacking bags as soon as I set them on the table.

Setting a hand on the table on each side of her, I caged her in. “You’re making me your grandma’s recipe? I feel special.” I dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

She stilled, and for a half second, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. She’d thanked me for setting a slow pace, but there was nothing slow about this relationship... except that I was slow to kiss her again. She’d turned my thoughts inside out, and my life operated on a new schedule, one that revolved around seeing her.

After a deep breath, she turned and pressed her hands to my t-shirt. Desire swirled in her eyes, and when she licked her lips, I wasn’t sure I’d make it the twenty-one days.

With her, I wanted things I’d never wanted before. Did I want to kiss her? Yes. But I’d wanted that before. Did I want more than that with her? Yes, but the same applied. I hadn’t exactly been a choir boy. But the sight of her chatting about family recipes as she unloaded grocery bags had me envisioning domestic bliss. Before Layla, I didn’t believe in domestic bliss. I’d figured the guys who raved about how in love they were had sipped some sort of tainted punch.

Her gaze swept over my face and landed on my lips. She swallowed, and it took every last ounce of determination not to taste her lips. Layla had said it best when she said that it would be too easy to get caught up and end up with someone getting hurt. She was the last person in the world I wanted to hurt.

“How did I get so lucky?” I brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, then kissed her forehead. “Let me help you get stuff put away.”

She gripped my t-shirt and smiled. “This will probably sound funny, but I’m going to say it anyway. I like you—you know that already—and I want you to kiss me. When the time is right. But every time you don’t kiss me when it’s obvious that you want to...” She tapped her chest. “Inside, I melt into a messy puddle of swoon.”

---