Page 67 of Mr. Flirt

Lucy’s eyes stayed on mine, and she nodded as I moved toward her.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the truth, Lucy. You have nothing to thank me for. I haven’t done anything.” My eyes moved to her lips as I fought the urge to kiss her.

Suddenly, the smell of burnt bread permeated the air as I jumped from Lucy and reached for the potholders as smoke billowed from the oven.

She coughed a few times as she held a towel to her nose and turned on the kitchen fan while I tossed the tray on the stove and swatted the air to rid it of smoke.

Lucy walked over to me and glanced at the burnt cheese bread. “I’d still eat it.”

I laughed, looping my arms over her shoulders as I pulled her into me.

The curves of her body fit perfectly against me.

“You make it extremely difficult for me to remember what it was I set out to do tonight.”

“I thought we were going to have dinner.”

Feeling her fit into me so perfectly made me question everything.

I cleared my throat and glanced at the bread as I took a step back. “Tonight is about setting up boundaries.”

A slight curl to her lips drove me insane.

“Ah, boundaries.” She reached for some plates out of the cabinet and set them next to the meatloaf I was cutting.

“Perfect. The meatloaf firmed up while I was busy burning the bread, so it won’t crumble all over.” I sliced the meatloaf and placed it on our plates while she scooped potatoes and attempted to salvage the bread.

“Good to know. Looks delicious.”

This was crazy. I needed to toughen up. Who cared that she dropped me to my knees? She asked me to do something so she could broaden her horizons, and I should man up and quit worrying about the future.

Besides, she’d made it clear that there wouldn’t be one with me, and at least with her arrangement, I could spend some time with her.

We sat down at the table, and she looked up at me and smiled.

“Okay, let me have it.” She picked up her fork and waited for my response.

“It’s not just about me. I want to know your expectations. As I’ve told you, I don’t think you need my help.”

Her smile widened. “And as I’ve told you, that’s only because I’m with you.”

Then why won’t you give us a chance?

“Fine. How many lessons a week do you want?”

She took a bite of the potatoes and closed her eyes. “These are delicious.”

“Thanks.”

“I think I could fit three evening sessions in with my schedule. Is that too many for you?”

God, no.

“That should work.” I took a bite of food.

“Would Thursday, Friday, and Saturdays work for you?” she asked.

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