I blew out a long breath and waved my hand. “Of course I do!”

He looked at me as if he didn’t believe me at all. “Well? Dinner?”

“What kind of dinner are we talking? Homemade? Takeout?”

“Whichever you want.”

“Can you cook?”

“I hope so, or I’ve been surviving on thin air for the last twenty-eight years.”

“Funny,” I drawled. “Who’s in charge of the food?”

He pointed at me. “You. You owe me.”

“So much for helping me with Lucifer out of the goodness of your heart.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Then it’s takeout.”

Isaac leaned a hip against the island. “Why? Can’t you cook?”

“I can cook,” I replied. “I make a very good ramen noodle with bread and butter on the side.”

His lips twitched as he fought back a laugh. “Takeout it is, then. My place or yours?”

“Do you think I should leave Lucifer alone right now?”

“Takeout at yours. Seven?”

“Make it seven-thirty, and there are rules, Isaac. You’re not just waltzing in here with… with that accent and, well, that.” I motioned to his body, then to his face. “It’s not fair on the rest of us who were made when God was in a bad mood.”

He rubbed at his mouth. “Okay, lay the rules on me.”

“No sexting. No talking about sexting. And no sex.”

“You’re just taking all the fun out of it.”

“I mean it. Those are the rules if you want to have dinner with me.”

He took a deep breath and sighed it right back out. “Fine. I’ll follow your rules—this time.” He stepped toward me and tapped me on the tip of my nose. “You’re bloody lucky you’re cute.”

Cute? Cute? Cute?

I followed him out of the kitchen. “Cute? I am a fully grown woman, not a baby sloth!”

“Just as well. Sloths aren’t my favorite.” He winked at me and opened the door. “I’ll go grab my tools. My mum is about to Skype me, if she’s finally figured out how to log in to the damn app on her iPad. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mum.

Ugh, that was so sexy.

Weirdly.

What was wrong with me?

CHAPTER EIGHT – HANNAH

Willpower Is Not My Strong Suit

Immy tossed me a bag full of yarn that needed to be organized on the shelves. I caught it smoothly and set it on the floor so I could untie the top and get to it.

“I help.” Maya stuck her hand in the bag and grabbed a ball before I could say a word.

Immy’s eyes widened. “Maya! Did you wash your hands before you touched that?”

Maya nodded her head firmly. “I do it two times. See? All cean.” She held up both hands, dropping the yarn to the floor, and wiggled her fingers.

“Okay, you can help. But make sure you get the colors in the right places and ask Hannah if you can’t reach.”

How did I end up with the kid? This wasn’t in my job description. I was gonna need a raise if I had to watch my cousin’s boyfriend’s daughter.