Shay’s gaze took in the exposed metal ductwork hanging from the high ceiling. The building looked more like a gutted mine-shaft than a restaurant. As he held the chair out for me, his chin dropped and he gave me a mischievous smile. “So, this is the best pizza, huh?” he asked under his breath.

I looked around the restaurant. Despite the decor, it was packed with locals and tourists alike. “Yep. You order it by the pound.”

I ordered for us, whisking through the seemingly complicated process of picking out dough, sauce, toppings, and of course weight.

“So this is a date, huh? I thought guys were supposed to ask girls out on those … do the ordering.”

“It’s a brave new world, Shay Miller. Welcome to it!”

His lips curved in a delicious grin. “I like it.”

“You’re still paying.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that already. Is that why we’re calling this a date? Because I’m paying?”

“No, we’re calling this a date because I’m pissed at my mother.”

He nodded. “Oh, well, that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah. See, she doesn’t allow me to date, but I found out she’s been leading this double life.”

He choked. “Double life?”

“Yeah. She’s been disappearing late at night. No telling where she goes. Some HoJo for hos or some other hypocritical bullshit place. The guy’s married.” I caught Shay’s uncomfortable shift. “Sorry. I know, I’m ranting.”

“No, no. Sounds bad.”

When the pizza arrived, he dug in, obviously thankful for the diversion.

Several minutes later, he asked, “You know what pizza crust is made of, don’t you?” I glanced up and caught his raised eyebrows. Then he ripped his teeth through an example.

I eyed him warily.

“Flour,” he said, clamping his lips closed on a wide, very evil smile as he resumed chewing.

I crinkled my nose up at him before moving my messenger bag from the seat nearest him to between my boots.

“You’re supposed to put honey on your crusts. Like this.” I took the bear-shaped bottle and squeezed a squiggle of the golden goo across the soft twist of dough. “Mmm, good,” I murmured to be extra-convincing. Shay watched as I pulled the lingering honey on my lips back into my mouth with the tip of my tongue.

I smacked my lips and smiled. “Your turn.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, right, the pizza crusts,” he said, and busied himself with the process.

“Now tell me, is that not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”

He glanced up, his eyes catching again on my mouth. “So far,” he said under his breath. As his teeth scraped the remainder of honey from his lip, my stomach fluttered.

…