Page 78 of Desserts for Stressed People

“Shane, I would never want you to doubt my loyalty. Because you need to know I’m”—shaking my head, I exhale—“weare nothing like your parents.” I venture a look at him, my heart racing in my chest, and his brows are sweetly arched over his delighted eyes. “That’s the only reason why I didn’t say yes when you asked me out.”

I can do it. I cansayit.

After a huge sigh, I continue, “Because the first time you kiss me, I don’t want to be someone else’s girlfriend.”

Chapter19

Definitely Not a Date

I can’t believeI just confessed my feelings for Shane to Mr. Asshole himself, but as proof that I did, he grins from ear to ear. Which also means I can’t exactly regret saying it.

We exchange a shy grin, and once I look away, I fidget with the aluminum wrap around my kebab. I’ve never been so forward with a man before, but Shane is different, isn’t he? Everything about him is. And when I’m with him, it’s like I’m me, but in an intensified way. Like I’m back to my old self, maybe even something more.

After we peer at each other for a while longer, he leans backward and his hands lock over his stomach. His gaze turns into that specific one he uses to flirt with me, and with his legs crossed and his beautiful silver suit, he’s the most perfect indulgence. “Let’s say that I believe you.”

I can’t help but grin. “Let’s say you do.”

With a playful gleam in his eyes, he continues, “I’m still not asking you out. For the moment.”

“I wouldn’t say yes if you did. For the moment.”

When he beams, I follow. It looks like we’re back to teasing. He drinks a sip of beer and glances at a couple entering the kebab place. “So we agree, we’re not going on a date.”

“We definitely agree we’re not going on a date.”

He takes a sip. “Then what should we do tonight?”

“I thought you wanted to sleep,” I say, glancing at the non-existent watch on my wrist. “Isn’t it past midnight?”

A boyish grin springs over his lips. “I’m suddenly renewed with fresh energy.”

Never have I related to something more. “In that case...Tonight we should do the opposite of a date.”

“So instead of dinner at a restaurant, we’ll have dessert in pajamas?”

I snap my fingers. “And instead of a movie in the theater, we’ll read a book on the couch.”

“And at the end of the night, instead of a kiss, I’ll…”—his tongue darts over his upper lip—“high-five you.” He stands, then peers down at me with an excited smile. “I guess we can do that. What do you say?”

I say that it sounds like the best non-date of my life.

He motions to follow him until we’re inside the small supermarket across the street. It looks like we’re not onlyhavingdessert. We’re baking it. My suspicion grows into certainty once he raids the supermarket for all the baking equipment he can find. Measuring cups, spatulas, a whisk.

When I inquire about his plans, he says we’re making something easy, and although it doesn’t look like it from the amount of stuff he buys, I follow him, unquestioning and blissful, as he points at all the different ingredients on the shelves.

We soon leave the supermarket and walk back to the small hotel. We enter his suite, right beside mine, and as we lay our loot on the small counter, he points at the bag. “Start separating the whites?”

I crack the first egg, but when two pieces of the shell fall inside the plastic bowl, I think I see a little part of him die. He grabs it from my hands, and with a patient smile, shows me how to do it. “Like this. Delicately. Pass the yolk from one half shell to the other and let the white part fall into the bowl.”

He shows me again, and again, and when it’s my turn, I do it pretty well too. Then he sifts the flour, the white powder quickly covering the wooden counter.

“Be careful,” I say as I grab a sponge.

“The bowl’s smaller than the sifter, there isn’t much I can do.”

Still, it’s getting everywhere. I pick the bowl up and wipe the counter, then clean the stove and notice there’s a little bit of egg white next to the other orange bowl we just bought, so I clean that too. Only then, I inhale, my heartbeat finally settling.

When I turn to Shane, he’s observing me with curious eyes. “Better?”

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