“Do you want the answer I give people or the real answer?”
“The real answer, obviously.”
“Okay, well, I tell everyone it’s deep-dish pepperoni pizza. But it’s actually deep-dish mac and cheese pizza.”
“Mac and cheesepizza?”
“I know.” I flipped my hair. “But it’s been a favorite since I was nine, and I was an only child. My parents indulged me. I started dumping boxed mac and cheese on my pizza slices and they thought I’d grow out of it. Now I just make a really fucking good macaroni and cheese pizza.”
“I have to try this some time,” he laughed.
“You know what? If we make it to date three, I’ll make it for you.”
Matthew grinned. “You’ve got a deal.”
CHAPTER NINE
Evie
Our date was perfect.
The food was perfect. The wine was perfect. The drive home was perfect. We left everything sad behind us and somehow the chemistry only got stronger. By the time Matthew pulled into the town limits, it was only 9:30 p.m., and I didn’t want our night to be finished.
“How do you feel about dessert?” I asked.
He glanced over at me, his gaze drifting toward my breasts. I raised a brow.
He’d been the perfect gentleman all night, but I knew he wanted me. I wanted him just as much.
“You can find out what I picked,” I whispered.
Matthew groaned. “I told myself I was going to be good, Evie.”
“Now, why would you do something like that?”
He was quiet for a few moments, but before I could start to doubt myself, he spoke. “What about your burn? I don’t want to risk hurting you.”
“It’ll be okay, unless you plan on grabbing my forearm. We can be careful, doctor.”
He groaned, but then nodded. “Well . . . I have wine and fruit at my place. Nick helped me pick it out.”
My brows shot up. “Nick helped you?”
“Yeah. Ran into him at the grocery store.”
We’d managed not to talk about Nick or Austin the last three hours, but now . . .
“I like him. A lot. I see why you like him.” The corner of his mouth tugged. “Would you like to come home with me tonight and enjoy the fruit and wine your other boyfriend picked out?”
Butterflies rippled through me. “Boyfriend?” I said slowly.
“I don’t know what else to call him.”
I didn’t either. “Let’s see what kind of wine and fruit you have. And you can find out what kind of lingerie I picked. Win-win.”
“Perfect.”
He took a sharp right and rerouted us to his place. I took the chance to send Avery and June a couple texts, assuring them I was alive and pointedly ignoring their nosy questions for now. Sunday, I’d tell them everything, but for now . . .
