“Why don’t we eat something first? It’s after six.”

“Sure.” He crossed into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. “Let’s see…I’ve got stuff for spaghetti, sandwiches…” He moved on to the refrigerator. “Frozen pizza…”

She sidled up beside him and ducked underneath his arm to peer into the fridge. She didn’t miss the grin on his face when she pressed up against his side.

Her expression mirrored his.

She moved a few things around and excitement filled her. “Can I make you an omelet? Breakfast for dinner?”

“You trying to show off your flipping skills?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled. “Sounds great.”

He reached for the carton of eggs, and she inhaled his woodsy, masculine scent as he did. She grabbed a bag of spinach, tomatoes, and shredded cheese. After he helped her locate all the utensils and cookware she would need, he took a seat at the table and watched her work.

They chatted while she cooked and while they ate. Though he complimented the meal and thanked her, he didn’t eat much. Maybe half of his omelet…but she didn’t take it personally. People’s taste buds went haywire during chemo, and appetites came and went.

“Got anything sweet?” Lauren asked when she finished. She had a bad habit of eating a handful of M&M’s after a meal.

“Sorry, I don’t think I do. I try not to keep that stuff around. I don’t have any self-control.”

She pursed her lips, and her eyes dropped to his flat midsection. “So that’s why your body looks like that.”

Andrew laughed. “Flattering me again?”

She didn’t respond to that and instead said, “I don’t have self-control, either, and that includes at the grocery store. I can’t seem to stop myself when I want something.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re demonstrating excellent self-control when it comes to our situation. It’s taking super-human strength on my part to keep you at arm’s length.”

“It’s an illusion,” she said quietly. She paused and toyed with a lock of her hair. “Besides, my problem is…once I start, I can’t stop. I think it helps that I haven’t tasted you yet. I don’t know what I’m missing.”

Did I really just say that? Judging by Andrew’s expression he was surprised, too, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He groaned and leaned his head back against the chair, his eyes on the ceiling.

Lauren jumped up from her chair, nearly knocking it to the floor. “I’ll, um…just—” She picked up both of their plates and walked them to the sink.

Andrew remained seated for a moment before he joined her and nudged her aside. “The cook doesn’t clean.”

After the dishes were done, they found themselves on opposite ends of the couch, talking. She made sure to keep plenty of space between them.