I have to clear my throat before I can answer, “Maybe. What other secret talents are you hiding?”

Ben runs his eyes over me, slow and searching.

Now, I’m the one with flushed skin, but I don’t have the fire as an excuse.

What’s he looking for? Do I want to know?

In the spring. We’ll talk about his hot gazes in the spring.

“Maybe I should show you some of them.” One of his eyebrows rises, just cresting over the rim of his glasses.

Holy goodness gracious.

I think my panties just caught on fire. I don’t know if he meant that to sound so dirty, but I’m on the verge of jumping off this couch to straddle him and beg for a detailed demonstration.

Instead, I struggle to find a witty response, ending up with a weird, strangled, “Mmhmm?”

His grin is back, making him appear wicked. But, when he talks, it’s so casual that I question my entire interpretation of the situation.

“Dinner’s ready.” The spoon in his hand hovers above the open soup pot, and I can see the steam rising off the top. “Could you bring the bowls over?”

Trying not to look like I’m running away, I hop up and retreat to the kitchen.

When I grab the waiting bowls on the table, I notice one has measurements on the inside. Even when eating, he has to be precise.

As I hold them out, Ben spoons in our fire-cooked dinner, and excitement sets off little sparks in my chest again. This experience is so novel.

Wearing an oven mitt, Ben pushes the metal arm away from the fire and covers the pot with a lid before taking his bowl out of my grasp.

I settle in at the table, spoon in hand, ready to take my first bite, when Ben stops me with a chiding cluck.

“Careful. That’s crazy hot. Also, you’ll probably want this.” After rummaging in one of the cabinets, he hands me a tiny saltshaker. “Sorry. Had to make the soup low sodium. ’Cause … you know.” He waves at his abdomen.

I wish I could just rip out my kidney, stuff it in him, and yell, You’re free! Eat whatever and drink however much you want!

At least he doesn’t have to wait much longer.

“No problem. I’d rather it be too bland than too salty. I can always add more salt but can’t take it away once it goes in.” I grin at him, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Time to change subjects. “So, you never answered my question.”

“Which one?”

From his trusty bag of food supplies, Ben pulls out a loaf of crusty-looking bread. And, yeah, maybe the sight has drool pooling in my mouth. Looks like I found a new sexy image to add to my spank bank: Ben handing me bread.

What girl doesn’t want a hot guy offering her carbs?

Pushing away the inappropriate thoughts, I try to keep the conversation light. “What other outdoorsy things can you do?”