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Maisie could hardly bear it.

“I definitely shouldn’t have shown this to you,” she mumbled, peeping through her fingers at the words.

It was like not being able to look away from a car crash. Honestly, the hearts, the “A+” appearance. The “probably tastes like Fifteens and Heaven.” What on earth had she been thinking?

Finn shook his head, his scruff tickling her cheek. “No, this is cracker.”

“You would say that,” she mumbled.

“This is me favorite part right here,” he said, his finger moving from her wrist to the words as he read them aloud. “Pairs well with blonde Americans. I mean, you’ve got this recipe down, I must say.”

She couldn’t hide her smile, even with her humiliation.

“And the award I achieved?” he said. “I accept. And the little love hearts? Oh! I got the goosebump checkmark? Look at me go!”

She shook her head again.

“And this?” he pointed to the “tastes like” statement. “You’ll have to tell me if that’s true.”

Her face continued to burn, her pulse through the roof.

“When did you write this?” he asked, a smile on his voice.

“On the way to Dunluce,” she said, still grimacing, “when we were stopped in traffic.”

“Aye, the stop. If only I’d have gone back there when you were writin’ it.”

“You weren’t talking to me that day, remember?” she countered.

He didn’t respond for a moment. “Yeah, sorry about that again.” He secured his arms around her. “I hope this is makin’ up for it.”

Little did he know what it was doing to her.

“Well,” he said, “I think it’s safe to say that I need a copy of this evaluation. It’s done me confidence quite a lot of good, it has.”

“As if you needed any help in that regard.”

He closed the book, though he kept his arms around her.

“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

“I really did,” he said, his voice softer. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” she said flatly. “I’m sure you can see that your two little comments hold nothing to what you just read, though.”

Staring out at the sea, she leaned a bit more against him, and his arms tightened around her.

“How ’bout I make it up to you?” he asked.

His face drew closer to hers until his lips were nearly touching her cheek.

She absentmindedly slipped her notebook back into her pocket to free her hands. “How?” she questioned, though she prayed she already knew the answer.

“By tellin’ you somethin’ I’ve not admitted aloud to anyone yet,” he started, “not even meself.”

She swallowed hard, her legs unstable.

“How ’bout,” he began, “I tell you the truth? Because from the moment I saw you in that rearview mirror, I’ve thought of little else but you, and how it might feel holdin’ you in me arms.”