One side of his lips kicked up. “Babe, you have no idea all the things I want and plan to do to you. Years’ worth of ideas.”

I gaped at him. “Years?”

“Years,” he insisted. “Anyway, back to the dinner and the movie. I was thinking we could do more like a lunch and then grab a movie another day since it will be hard to work both in with our schedules.”

All I could do was stare at him as he found seasonings and made the omelets. He was making plans for us—­multiple days’ worth of plans. That damn swelling feeling was back in my chest.

“It’s either that or wait until we’re both off next Monday,” he said, raising his arms over his head and stretching as the omelets cooked.

Dear Lord, that sight—­all the muscles rippling, the pants hanging indecently low—­was pure sin.

“But I really don’t want to wait until Monday. Do you?”

“No,” I whispered.

Omelets finished, he pulled the pan off the burner, and I finally moved. I grabbed two plates and glasses out of the cabinet. “So how does Thursday sound?” he asked, slipping one perfectly folded omelet onto a plate. “I know Friday will be tough for you with visiting Charlie. So we can grab lunch.”

I blinked back sudden tears again. Dammit, he was . . . so thoughtful. Hurrying to the fridge, I grabbed the tea. “Thursday would be great.”

“You okay?” he asked.

When I turned, he was placing the plates on my table, but his eyes were on mine. Clearing my throat, I nodded as I walked the jug over to the table and then grabbed the silverware. A look of doubt was on his face.

“I’m okay,” I said as I sat. He was slow to sit down across from me. “It’s just that . . .”

“What?” he asked, watching me closely.

“It’s just that . . . I’ve liked you for so long, Reece. A really long time.”

The grin was back. He picked up a fork and offered it to me. “Babe, I know you have.”

I stared at him blandly. “Did you now?” I cut off a piece of omelet and popped it my mouth. “Oh God,” I moaned. “This is good.”

“Told you. But yeah, I spent a good part of that time ignoring that you liked me, because there was a high chance your father would’ve gutted me if I made a move on you before you were old enough to buy liquor. And by the time that rolled around, well . . . shit was going on . . .” Reece frowned as his features tensed. “Wait. Damn. I just thought of something. Did we use a condom that night?”

My stomach dropped all the way to my toes. If I hadn’t been sitting down, I probably would’ve fallen over. Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I had total shit for brains as I stared at him.