A giddy, completely inappropriate laugh burst free from my lips.

His smile faltered.

“Sorry. Come in. Come in.” I waved him in and stepped out of the way.

He took a hesitant step forward over the threshold. “This—this is for you.” His lips tightened like he was handing me a fish head.

Checking up and down the quiet street, I closed the door behind him.

He stood less than a half step behind me looking on edge and nervous, completely unlike how he’d shown up on my front steps in full teen-movie-hero style.

“It’s cute.” I took it from his outstretched hand and cupped the back of his hand with mine. “Thank you. And I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing because this is the closest I’ve ever come to a first date.”

He pulled me closer, the flower trapped between our two bodies. “If I thought you’d let me take you out, I’d bring my car around in a heartbeat.” His fingers looped around my hair sending sparks along my collarbones where his knuckles rubbed against my bare flesh.

“Maybe later.” My breathless whisper could be heard over my heartbeat.

His head nodded and he brushed his lips against mine. “The food smells amazing.”

I cleared my throat and took a step back before sprinting back into the kitchen. Bubbles from the bottom of the heated pan broke through the surface of the risotto. I added more broth to the rice and cheese mixture.

“Are you ready to eat?”

“Of course.”

A shiver shot through my spine as I envisioned things that had nothing to do with food.

I grabbed the shrimp and added them to the pan along with even more butter. “Great, it’ll be ready in a couple minutes.”

“Can I help?” He stood beside me with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his muscled and sinewy forearms.

“If you want to put this on those plates.” I nodded to the two set beside the stove. “I’ll finish these.”

He nodded and plated the risotto.

Each shrimp only took a couple minutes to cook. Using my spatula, I scooped out the bulk of the shrimp and put them on his plate, giving myself another five and pouring the garlic butter over top of both the mounds of creamy rice.

He took each plate and set them beside each other on the table, standing behind his chair.

“Did you want water, soda or juice? We have Coke, Sprite, Cherry Coke, Cherry Coke with Lime, Vanilla Coke. We might have a slight Coke addiction in this house.”

He laughed. “Water’s fine.”

“You sure?” I lifted an eyebrow and gently jiggled two cans in my hand, careful not to shake them. “The Cherry Coke is killer.”

His lips twitched. “You’ve convinced me. Cherry Coke, it is.”

I set them down on the table and Dare pulled out my chair and scooted it forward as I sat. “Thanks.”

He sat beside me, his knee bumping against mine.

“Sorry we don’t have beer or wine or anything. My mom’s not much of a drinker.”