Page 62 of I Wanna Text You Up

“Trial and error? Forthat?”

“It’s just a healthy spin on chicken Parmesan. It’s not that hard tomake.”

I shake my head. “I’d have failed at the firststep.”

“Flattening chicken? You can’t really mess thatup…”

“Oh, trust me, I’d have found a way. And you learned all this in the…what did you say? The trailerpark?”

He nods. “Yep. Born andraised.”

Caleb goes to grab our empty plates, an attempt to change the subject—which I allow—but I swat his handaway.

“Nuh uh. I’ll do that. You cooked, I’llclean.”

“Fairenough.”

I grab our plates and make my way to the sink, taking the time to rinse them clean before dropping them in the dishwasher. Piling the leftovers into a bowl, I slide it into the fridge. It’s amazing that just a few weeks ago you would open it and only find milk, butter, eggs, and a few jars of salsa. Now it’s stocked full of leftovers and all kinds of freshgroceries.

Grabbing my apron, I tie it around my waist and set about pulling out the ingredients to make brownies. Hey, he makes dinners, I make dessert—those are therules.

I break an egg over a bowl and drop it in then turn to dump the shell in the trash, surprised to find a smiling Caleb still sitting at thecounter.

“What?”

His grin grows, and he gives his head a shake. “Nothing. It’s just cute to watch you flitter your way around the kitchen. I haven’t had the chance to watch you bake yet. I’m usually only around to reap the rewards of your efforts, not watch the magichappen.”

“What’s so cute aboutit?”

“Everything. Your concentration, the way your tongue snakes out when you have to use the whisk…” He stalks my way and reaches out, brushing his finger against my cheek. “The speck of flour you have righthere.”

“That wassocliché.”

“But you have to admit, it made your kneesweak.”

“Another cliché. You doneyet?”

“Oh, baby, not evenclose.”

I burst into laughter as Caleb swoops me into his arms, placing a kiss against my temple, shaking his head atme.

“You’re something else,Caleb.”

“You likeit.”

“You can’t provethat.”

His lips lift, and I know exactly what’s running through his mind. “Oh, Ican.”

“You’re going to kiss me again, aren’tyou?”

He responds by dipping his head and capturing my lips with his. His thumb sweeps across my cheek, his other hand gripping my waist and holding me close to him as his mouth moves over mine. His touch is gentle, sweeteven.

We stand there wrapped together for who knows how long with our lips fusedtogether.

It feels so good, so natural. It’s only been hours since we agreed to be friends and see where this goes, but I can already feel the shift, and it worries me how good itfeels.

“I need to finish making these brownies,” I whisper when I pull my mouth fromhis.