Page 93 of Sweetheart

"She was seven, and shenearly burned down the house," Dad said, but he threw me a fond smile. "We had toget a new oven and everything."

"I would've gotten better with practice."

Sam shot me a warm glance. "Everything gets better with practice. Right, Kent?"

As he'd no doubt intended, my mind drifted back to our kissing lesson in the parking lot, and I felt a tingling start in my lips.

"I guess," I murmured.

"Not Scarlett's cooking," my dad piped up, and I gaped at him. "Sorry, kid, but you've tried a few dishes since then, and…well.You might want to stick with music."

"Dad!"

"Ooh, burn," Sam said. "Pun intended."

"Nice one," Dad replied.

Looking between them, I frowned. "Ah, I see. You two are friends now, huh?"

Sam shrugged while my father shoveled spaghetti into his mouth.

"And I was afraid to leave you together in case he scared you off with the talk or ended you before I got back," I said.

"Oh, I tried," Dad said, and I gave him a confused look. "I gave him the talk, but for some reason, the kid smiled the whole time. Creepy if you ask me."

Sam laughed. "I was impressed. Your dad's given me permission to use the talk if I ever have a daughter of my own."

"Good to know," I mumbled.

"Sam, can you pass the bread?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Kent."

And on, it went.

By the time dinner was over, Sam and my father had established some kind of weird bond. I mentioned it as I walked Sam out to thedriveway. But he just grinned.

"Your dad wants what's best for you," he said, stopping beside his car. "I do too.On that, we agreed."

"Hmmm," I said. "So, the talk didn't scare you?"

"Are you kidding? It was terrifying."

I smiled a little at that. "I'll be sure to let my dad know."

Sam looked to the house where my father was not-so-discreetly peeking out the window.He did the I'm-watching-you motion, pointing to his eyes then at Sam without any hint of a smile.Catching Dad's eyes, I widened my own, and after one last glare in Sam's direction, he moved away.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner," he said.

"Thanks for meeting my dad and sitting through the talk," I said back.

Sam nodded. "Any time, Kent."

As he turned to walk away, I caught his hand in mine.

Sam looked back over his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Are you leaving?" I asked, hating how needy my voice sounded.

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