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But this is not my idea, and I was absolutely thrown into it by the older man standing in front of me in carnation pink Bermuda shorts and a lemon-yellow t-shirt with a pink flamingo on it that I am not going to ask about. It’s October, and I’ve got jeans on, but he’s in shorts and slip-on canvas shoes, looking like he’s spent the day on the beach.

Yes, Louisiana can fluctuate between fifty and eighty, but shorts?

“But…oh!” Andi says, clearly figuring something out. “You’re leaving him thongs.” She nods. “That’s better than the girl who’s leaving him casseroles.”

I frown. Then sigh as I realize her conclusion. “No. That’s me too.”

“You’re the one…but that’s…” She trails off and tips her head the other direction, studying me. “Oh.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh?”

“You have a crush on Lawson and it makes sense to me that your instinct is to…nurture him. Casseroles are very…nurturing.”

Now my brows arch. “Shouldn’t my instinct be to do something else to him?”

Okay, I’m inexperienced. I’m a virgin. Andi knows this. But even I know that I should want to do a lot more than make food for Lawson.

And I do.

I definitely do.

I want to see that man naked very much.

And I want to kiss him. And have him kiss me. And touch me.

And do…other things.

I’m just only slightly aware of what those things are. I read. I’ve seen some things online. I’ve heard my friends talk. But it’s not the same as having it happen in person.

I want to have it happen in person.

With Lawson.

But I really like that, by all accounts, he loves my food too.

Andi gives me a smile that says I love you, even though we have nothing in common.

Andi hates cooking and has been celebrating living alone and never having to cook for another human again if she doesn’t want to. She only ever eats food she likes and eats when and however she wants. She often tells us that she will grab cheese, olives, and berries from the fridge, eat them while standing at the counter, and call that dinner.

That makes me shudder. Which makes her laugh.

“Yes, you should want to do more with him than cook and eat,” Andi confirms. “But it makes sense that casseroles are where you’re starting.” She shrugs. “I guess.”

“Well, it was… an accident,” I tell her.

“What was an accident?”

“The stalking.”

“You’re accidentally stalking him.”

I nod.

She laughs. “How did that happen?”

I look at Brewser with brows arched, silently asking how much he is okay with her knowing.

He gives a small nod then says, “I have recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, Andi.”