Oakley playfully grabbed his chest. “Did the Amanda Matthews just admit to having fun?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. I did…” I had the most fun while we were in the woods, with his manly man thigh pressed right up against my—

“So about that kiss,” Oakley interrupted my naughty train of thoughts. I took a deep breath. He was probably going to do that playboy dude thing where he reminded me it was nothing and that he didn’t like to be tied down. It kind of stung to think about, but it was probably for the best. I needed him to be an asshole so I could continue my internship professionally.

“Can I take you on a date?”

I snapped my eyes to him. “What?” I asked.

He smirked and turned up the air conditioning. “You know. A date. It’s this thing where a person takes another person out to dinner or something. They flirt. They hold hands. Maybe even end the night with a romantic kiss on someone’s doorstep.”

“I know what a date is,” I mumbled. “I want to know why you think it’s a good idea to take me out. You’re my client, Oakley. What just happened was a one-time thing.”

He gripped his steering wheel. “Why does it have to be a one-time thing?”

“Because you’re my client, and I have already gotten in trouble for crossing ethical boundaries once.” I reminded him of the little prank he pulled with Dr. Haynes at the beginning of the semester. “I almost lost this internship then. I absolutely will not survive any more scandal, and if I lose this internship, I don’t graduate early,” I finished. I couldn’t believe I was actively talking this gorgeous man out of taking me on a date. Not even just being fuck buddies, but like an actual real date. The boyfriend experience.

Oakley surprised me by reaching over and squeezing my hand. “I’m really sorry about that. I was a complete ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh, um. Thank you,” I said, a little shocked that he apologized. I was discovering every day that there was more to Oakley Davis than the “send an unsolicited dick pic” persona he hid behind.

“So, how’s tomorrow night?”

“Uh, for what?” I asked, confused.

“Our first date,” he said casually. This man either didn’t listen or he was just so used to getting what he wanted that he didn’t understand being told no.

I sighed, “Oakley…”

“Okay, how about lunch?” He tried again. “No flowers, nothing fancy. Let’s just meet in the cafeteria, surrounded by people. How’s noon?” He made it really hard to say no. But it was just lunch. In the cafeteria, of all places. Nobody could possibly misconstrue that as a romantic rendezvous. Just two friends grabbing lunch. So what if one of those friends had an enormous heat seeking moisture missile?