A breathless sigh left my lips. Why was he so perfect in every way?

Except his stubborn self, of course!

The delicious aroma of the covered food snatched my attention. My stomach growled again. He took the lids off the food platters, and my mouth watered.

Cheesy garlic shrimp!

My eyes snapped up to him. Smiling at me, he put some shrimp on my plate, drizzling the sweet and sour sauce on it. Just the way I liked.

Seeing my surprise, he said, “How could I forget to make my girl’s favorite food on our first date?”

I gasped, eyeing the shrimps, roasted potatoes, chicken sizzling, and spaghetti. All my favorites. “You—you made all of this?”

I didn’t know he had culinary skills.

His gaze locked with mine. “You didn’t argue about me calling you my girl or it’s our actual date.”

Oh!

My cheeks turned hot. I was so stunned he made all those dishes for me I totally ignored his other words.

“I—yes. It’s just a friendly date. Don’t forget that! And I’m not your girl.” I cleared my throat, shifting in my chair.

He chuckled. That beautiful sound always made me feel something inside me. It felt like he was a totally different man around me. He talked more, he laughed more. His eyes held light.

“Well, our kiss proves both of your beliefs are wrong.” He put some spaghetti on my plate and reached for the roasted potatoes. “And yes, I cooked them myself.”

I tried my best not to turn beetroot out of embarrassment. Though whatever I said, my actions told the opposite. But it wasn’t my fault. I tried my best to resist him, but he always crossed my boundaries.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” I changed the subject, sticking my fork into a shrimp.

He shrugged. “I only know to make my girl’s favorite dishes.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. My heart skipped as I stared at him. He only learned to make my favorite dishes?

“W-why?” I stuttered.

“So I could always keep my queen happy and full.”

His intense gaze made me gulp. Something soared in my chest as I struggled with the tons of emotions he made me feel.

Averting my eyes, I took a bite of the cheesy shrimp. And I was amazed. It was delicious! Eager, I put two more into my mouth, and then tasted the chicken. My eyes closed at the savory flavors bursting into my mouth.

Once I opened them, I noticed he didn’t even touch his plate yet. With an uncertain expression, he watched me. As if waiting for something.

With my mouth full, I raised my brow.

He scratched the back of his head. “Uh, how’s the food? Did you like it?”

I gaped at him. Was Achilles Valencian nervous? And he needed my approval?