Page 21 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

“Where were we?” he asked.

“If you feed me and get me warm, I’ll be your best friend,” I repeated.

“Right, right, right… I like this idea. Best friends have sleepovers and I see lots of sleepovers in our future.”

My giggle effervesced as he shifted to pull out of the parking spot and fiddled with the satellite radio, finding the nineties station. The opening hum of Blind Melon’s “No Rain” filled the cab and like a fool, I started singing along with the lead singer. Then to my utter surprise, Sinjin began singing along with me. I’d never met a man willing to make a fool of himself with me before. Not that he made a fool of himself with the singing—Sinjin actually had a pretty credible voice—but it was the way he embraced the singing despite the cars next to us, his exaggerated moves earning laughs from the people who had no idea what song he mouthed for them.

That song ended before we reached our destination and was immediately followed by Green Day’s “Basket Case.” I loved that he knew the lyrics to this one too. Before the final chords, Sinjin clicked on his blinker to make a left turn into a park.

“A park?” I asked. “I thought we were going to dinner.”

“Shh…” He pressed his finger to my lips. “My impatient one, we are.”

As we were knee-deep in the throes of winter, the sun had already set and only a few lights in the parking lot illuminated the space. Many of the parks closed up for the season, but this one held a small lake with fish that the crazies liked to ice fish on. He rolled into a spot on the darker end of the lot, giving us a nice view of the frozen water. The breeze dusted the snow on the surface, making it appear foggy. Okay, so Sinjin knew how to pick a romantic spot.

“This isn’t dinner,” I reminded him.

“Yes, it is,” he replied, twisting in his seat to pluck a basket up from the floor of the backseat behind me, bringing it to rest between us. When he flipped open the lid, the most amazing aroma filled the cab. The surprising man handed me off a plastic storage container and a fork. Inside sat a divine creation. “Pumpkin, spinach, and mushroom lasagna. No cheese or cream and the lasagna noodles are made from chickpeas. All bootcamp-approved.”

Holy crap. I never wanted to kiss someone so badly in my life.

“You made this?” I asked.

Sinjin smiled. “That, and a salad.” He handed me that container next. Romaine lettuce, tomato wedges and kalamata olives with a balsamic vinaigrette dressing. “There’s only the barest amount of olive oil in the dressing. I got the recipe from Trevor, so you know it’s also approved.”

Lastly, for the dinner portion of the meal, he handed me off a still-warm-from-being-wrapped-in-a-special-insulating-bag fluffy breadstick. My eyes went foggy from wetness. “I can’t believe you cooked for me,” I whispered, my throat thick with emotion. “No one’s ever done this before.”

This time, his smile wasn’t cocky but totally sincere, and I drank in the depths of his eyes shining at me under the moonlight. I—whoa—I had a major problem. It was possible that my feelings for the sexy man sitting next to me might have started to run a little deeper than I expected them to.

“Come here,” he said, reaching his hand out to cup the back of my head, drawing me over the basket separating us as he moved in to press his lips to mine. And yes, I sighed. How could I not? The two of us alone on a moonlit night having a winter picnic in his truck? I’d challenge anyone to resist the romance.

The kiss lasted longer than I thought it would, yet still not long enough. And when he pulled back, he dragged his hand from my head to rest at my jaw, where he used his thumb to swipe over the apple of my cheek. He liked to do that, I found. “Then it’s a good thing you aren’t with any of those men any longer,” he said, bending to kiss me once more. “No man worth your time wouldn’t put everything he had into wooing you no matter how many weeks, months, or years you’d been together.”

“I’m not sure I’m worth all this effort,” I said, picking up a forkful of salad.

But before I could shove the bite in my mouth, he stayed my hand. “Then it’s good you’re with me because I’m sure you are.” And when all I had in me was to stare at him, he tapped the hand holding my fork to get it moving toward my mouth again. “Don’t forget the breadsticks. They’re best hot, another Trevor recipe. Half gluten flour and half almond flour. They don’t rise quite as high and aren’t quite as chewy, but you’ll be begging me to make them again.”

If he kept this up, my gut feeling told me I’d be begging him for a lot of things. Right. I needed a distraction stat. What had nothing to do with me begging Sinjin for anything? Food. I subsequently ditched the salad to cut off and shove a big chunk of lasagna into my mouth.

“Mmm… holy crap!” I yelled around a mouthful of yumminess, accidentally spitting out pumpkin and noodle particles in the process, then I shrank back in my seat because could I have been any more uncouth? Though my faux pas didn’t appear to bother him in the least.

“How are the travel plans coming along?” he asked. “We need to refund your ticket. That way we can purchase two new tickets and sit together. My passport is still up to date. I’m constantly off on business trips, especially to Japan.”

My throat went dry. “Your passport is up to date? What does that mean?”

His head slowly turned in order for him to search my face. “It means it’s not expired.”

“Passports expire?!” I shouted, completely dumbfounded.

His corresponding laugh was more of a ‘I can’t believe she didn’t know that’ sort of uncomfortable laugh. “Geet,” he said slowly. “I’m assuming you have a passport.”

“Of course I have a passport.”

“Okay, great. When did you get it?”

“When I was fifteen. I tried to do a year abroad as an exchange student but ended up not being able to afford it.”

“Fifteen?” He looked me over. “Geet, you’ve got to be what? Twenty-five?”

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