“I love it here. One of the only things besides a car that we’ve spent money on.”

“Well spent.” She moves around the space and runs her fingers over the tops of the couches and chairs, walks by the lit firepits, and then turns to face me. “I’m so making out with you tonight.”

I chuckle. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

She walks up to me and drags her finger over my stomach in passing. “Trust me, I will keep this one. Now show me where these tacos are. I can’t make out on an empty stomach.”

I lead her behind the partition and pull out her chair for her. My hand caresses her back as she takes a seat, and I watch her roll into my touch as she glances over her shoulder and smirks at me. That one look says it all. We will definitely be making out tonight.

“This is a convenient secluded space,” she says as she drapes her napkin over her lap. “And that couch over there is pretty deep, almost like mattress deep.”

“Really? Haven’t noticed.” I carry over two covered plates and set one in front of her and then one in front of me.

“Such a liar.” She chuckles.

Yup, I’m a giant liar because when I chose this space, I knew exactly the kind of atmosphere I was looking for . . . a place where we could be cut off from the world and fool around if we wanted to.

I lift the dome from her plate, revealing two barbacoa tacos with a side of lime, cilantro rice, and black beans. Chips and salsa are already on the table, and the cake is behind me, ready to be devoured.

“Ooo, this smells good. You said this is from your favorite taco place?”

“Yeah, it’s around the corner. Banner and I can’t get enough of it.”

She picks up a taco and takes a big bite. Sauce drips over her lips and down her chin as she chews, causing me to smile. I love that she doesn’t care. She doesn’t even seem to notice that sauce is dripping down her face on a first date. It’s endearing, charming, and relatable. She has no filters and hides nothing. I really like that about her, amongst other things.

“Okay, you have to tell me where this place is because these are phenomenal. Wow.” She sets her taco down, reaches for a chip, and pats her mouth with her napkin. “You sure know how to work a rooftop. Sure the view is spectacular, and the company is hot as shit, but these tacos, they take the cake.”

“Speaking of cake . . . your request is over there on the table.”

She swallows and then gently presses her hand to her chest. “Ryot Bisley, you very well might be the man of my dreams.”

“Things I love to hear.”

* * *

“This shirt was made for your body,” Myla says as we relax on the couch.