Page 123 of Lemon Crush

“We already had lunch,” I told him. “And went shopping, with a detour to a hair salon. It was a whole day.”

“You do look good.” He gave me another shiver-inducing once-over. “Too good to be stuck in the house.”

With me.He hadn’t said it out loud, but I heard it anyway.

“I wanted to have dinner with you, Wade. I want to celebrate with you.”

For a moment, I was afraid he was going to come up with anexcuse. Some emergency back at the garage or another dinner with Kingston, whom I’d heard he was spending most of his time with lately.

Wade rubbed his palms down his jeans and nodded. “I do love korma. And I wouldn’t want you celebrating alone.”

Thank you, Bernie.

“I feel like I should have brought flowers or something.” He looked down at himself and grimaced. “Or maybe changed for the occasion.”

I hadn’t wanted to give him a chance to say no. “You already got me a Congratulations balloon back in August, so you’re ahead of the game. You look great, and it’s just dinner at home.”

Why were we so awkward again?

He followed me into the kitchen, and I felt his gaze like a brand on my back. “You look better than great. Your hair is… What’s going on in here?”

I’d set out plates, flowers and more candles in the breakfast nook. “I thought it might be better than eating in the living room.”

“Oh.”

I took a calming breath. I was going all out and it was obvious. Subtlety was not my jam.

“You put a lot of work into this.”

I took the naan out of the warming tray, set them on their own platter and took them to the table. Then I snagged the oven mitts and carried the bowls of korma and basmati rice over as well. “Only a bit. This naan is from the store because I didn’t want to make a mess. But the rest? I thought some effort might be nice for a change. We haven’t spent much time together when we weren’t both exhausted lately. And when we eat together, it’s always casual. A pizza or a burger on the go. I wanted to change that.”

I wanted to change more than that. If he did.

“Well, you’ve done it, because this feels like we’re at a restaurant. You’re going to spoil me.”

“He’s used to taking care of people. It’s all he ever does. It throws him off when you turn the tables on him, but it’s good for him. He deserves to be pampered once in a while.”

He’d been doing for me since he rented the apartment. All the work on the house, the yard and the car. The job. Looking after me when I was tipsy. I’d soaked it all up like a sponge, because in my previous relationships, caretaking wasmyjob. So far, he’d only seen me when I could barely take care of myself. Things were different now.

He slid into the curved seat, looking so uncertain I almost smiled. “Beer, soda or water?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.”

I grabbed two beer bottles and a water like the pro server I now was and set them on the table as I sat across from him. “Let’s toast.”

He immediately lifted his bottle and tipped it toward mine. “To finishing your book.”

“Both my books.” When his eyes widened, I nodded. “Yup. It looks like I’m picking a new pen name and self-publishing the other.”

“The book you let me read?” Was he blushing? “WithCadethe mechanic?”

“That’s the one. It’s scary, trying new things at my age, but sometimes it can be worth it.”

I kept my eyes firmly on his, because I wasn’t only talking about the book.

“Sometimes it is,” he agreed, his voice coming out in a rasp that he quickly soothed with a sip of beer before digging into his food.

His blissful moan at the first bite was gratifying. “You really made this?”

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