Page 78 of Puck Me Secretly

I tried to imagine Max cooking. The thought of him in the kitchen with a pair of oven mitts was somehow both domestic and intoxicating. “You should try my pancakes.”

“I guess we have breakfast and lunch covered.”

I could feel the heat of his hand on my back through the thin fabric of my dress. “It appears we do.”

His blue gaze clashed with mine. “What about you? Any secret hidden talents I should know about?”

“I used to belong to a marching band.”

A smile spread over his face. “A marching band?”

“I’ll have you know that in grade 6, that was the epitome of cool.”

“Did you play an instrument?”

“No, I twirled the baton.”

His smile was close to a laugh. “That’s adorable. Was that a lifelong passion of yours?”

“The tassel boots and sparkly outfits drew me in.”

“Will you baton twirl for me?”

“Only if you make a grilled cheese sandwich for me.”

His eyes were on my mouth again. “I think we could make that a date.”

I gasped as he spun me around again. I clung to his shoulder.

“You need to warn a girl.”

“And miss that little noise you make?”

Our eyes met again. “Max.”

“So, not sure if I mentioned this, but your date’s a punk.”

My smile broadened. “Funny. He was hand picked by my mom.”

“So, you’re not dating him?”

“Not that I know of.”

“How do you know him?”

“Old family friend. I’ve known Calder since we were toddlers. Why do you think he’s a punk?”

He cleared his throat.

“What, Max?”

I could see his internal debate on how much he wanted to tell me. “I think your date is trying to sleep with my date.”

“Yes, he told me his plan.”

Shock crossed his face. “You don’t mind?”

“Do you?”

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