Page 12 of Honey Sunshine

“However, I can’t exactly say that we met last Friday and now we’re officially going out.”

“Why not?”

My brows almost hit my hairline.

“What?”

I watch as he swallows before fluttering his eyes at me. “You can just say, ‘From the moment my eyes met Zach’s, I justknewhe would be the one for me, and I want tomarryhim and have two dozen babies with him’,” he teases with an exaggerated grin, his voice dripping with playful mockery as he raises his eyebrows in an overly dramatic fashion.

I snort, barely able to hold in my laugh. “Twodozen?”

He points his fork at me. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Honey, why two dozen?”

“Why aren’t you more focused on the fact that I can’t get pregnant?” he retorts, and I laugh harder.

“Touché.” I nod in agreement. “So, what should we say?”

“Why not the truth, but instead of last week we can just say this occurred six months ago? That seems long enough, and we both learned more about each other and then decided to take things further, right?” he proposes. “Let’s keep it close to the truth, that way we don’t need to remember every single lie.”

I consider it for a moment. “Okay, that would work and appease my mom’s need for a meet-cute story.”

“I don’t think our first meeting is exactly a meet-cute story,” he remarks before scooping up another mouthful of steamed broccoli. It seems Zach wasn’t lying about how much he could eat, or how fast, because everything is finished in a blink.

“It is to me,” I declare, then slide my container over. “Here, you can have mine.”

He stares at me with wide eyes, and I swear if he had puppy ears, they would have perked up.

“Really? Why? You don’t mind?”

There’s something about his honesty that I find to be so damn adorable.

“Eh, I have more at home, and frankly—” I start, leaning over to wipe the wayward sauce from the side of his mouth. He stills as my thumb brushes his lips. His soft... juicy...pouty lips.

This time, I can see the flush spread across his face, and I don’t know what possesses me to bring my thumb to my own lips, lapping up the sauce I cleaned off his.

“I like feeding you,” I say nonchalantly.

“Am I some sort of puppy?” he asks, reaching to tug his ears. “Thank you, I’ll repay the favor.”

“You don’t have to,” I chuckle. “I really meant it when I said I’d like to cook for you.”

“Then I’ll cook for you next time,” he offers.

That instantly catches my attention. “Oh, you know how to cook?”

It’s not exactly rare, but when it comes to the Coopers, none of their significant others know how to cook—from Mom almost blowing up the kitchen, to Becky’s husband not knowing what the point of seasoning is or how to measure.

It could be a coincidence, but maybe this is all?—

“Kind of?” Zach starts, chuckling a tad nervously as he rubs the back of his neck. “Though it’s limited to things like boilingpasta, since you leave it there until it’s done while you shower or unwind after work.”

Uh . . . what now?

“How... how do you... make pasta again?” I find myself asking slowly, making him raise an eyebrow at me in a confused manner.

“What do you mean? It’s the same way you boil water. Place the pasta in a pot of water and turn on the heat to the highest until it becomes soft and mushy, then add your sauce into the pot with the water and everything, and bam—pasta!”

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