As I made my way back toward my house on the property, I started thinking about my parents again. If I thought my dad was going to go crazy about James and the fire, it was going to be tenfold once he learned about the dinner date I’d agreed to go on because of it. It was pointless to pretend that James and I could keep anything to ourselves. When we’d agreed to go to dinner locally, we’d both known exactly what that meant—that the entire town would know about the date by morning. I figured that I would lie to my dad and convince him that I was just talking to James about the fire and working out logistics about potential smoke damage and how we could prepare against fire in the future. I only hoped he would buy it when the time came.

*  *  *

Three knocks against my wood door alerted me to the fact that James Russo was standing on the other side of it. Should I invite him in or answer the door with my purse in hand, ready to leave? This was new territory for me—not the dating part, but a date with the one person I wasn’t even supposed to like. I had no idea how to act, and I suddenly wondered if I was overdressed as I glanced down at my heels and little black dress.

Slowly opening the door, I smiled when I saw James standing there with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. Everything else faded away when I looked into his blue eyes.

“Hi.” He grinned, and I knew I was a goner.

How had I ever pretended to not be attracted to him?

I was sure he could see right through my facade.

“Hi.” I smiled back and opened the door wider, inviting him in without thinking.

He was wearing dark slacks and a black button-up shirt that perfectly matched my outfit. We looked like we had coordinated our clothes even though we hadn’t.

“These are for you.”

He held out the flowers, and I took them. Our fingertips brushed, and I couldn’t ignore the spark that ignited. James gave me a look, and I knew that he had just felt what I had and was searching for my confirmation, but I couldn’t give it to him even if I wanted to.

There was a tremendous push-and-pull battle that warred inside me. One second, I was willing to risk it all, and the next, I was too scared to breathe wrong, afraid he’d see everything I was trying to hide.

I walked into my small kitchenette and searched in vain for a vase. I pulled out a glass pitcher and put the flowers in there, deciding that it suited them better. “They’re so pretty. Unconventional.”

“Just like you.”

I laughed at his cheesy line because how could I not? “I’m unconventional, huh?”