Page 94 of Breakaway Hearts

I pull a notebook out from my purse and begin scribbling up a plan.

Operation Surprise Reese with Dinner and Friends.

I start writing a menu, figuring out which ingredients I’ll need to grab at the store on my way home from work. There’s no game tonight, so I begin sending off texts rapid-fire, and before I know it, I have a roster of Margo, Noah, Sawyer, Sawyer’s son, and Theo.

The school day is an easy one. All of my students are eager and enthusiastic, and two boys who have been fighting for the past few days somehow manage to bury the hatchet and immediately become best friends in the way that little kids sometimes do. Once the final bell rings, I gather up my stuff as quickly as possible, springing for an Uber instead of taking the bus since I need to make a stop on the way home.

After a frantic trip to the grocery store, I arrive home and lay everything out in the kitchen. Reese said he’ll be home around seven, which means I have a little over three hours to get everything done.

I pull up the recipes I picked on my phone, going over them one last time. It’s definitely the most ambitious meal I’ve ever attempted to make, given that I’m not much of a cook in the first place. Usually I only tackle the side salads, like I did when Reese and I had dinner at my mom’s place.

“Maybe I should’ve gone with pasta,” I mutter, staring at the five pounds of chicken legs, three bags of kale, a whole sack of potatoes, and two pounds of Brussels sprouts. Then I shake my head. “No, no, don’t back down now. It’s for Reese. You’ve got this.”

I take a few deep breaths before I begin prepping everything. More than once while attempting to peel a potato, I drop it into the trash can and have to fish it out and wash it vigorously and pray that that’s an okay thing to do.

As long as I don’t tell Reese, I’m sure it’s fine.

Do potentially dirty potatoes fall within his neat-freak realm?

I shake every intrusive thought out of my head as best I can, trying to ignore the fact that my hair is sticking out in every direction and is a frizzled mess. Focusing on the fact that Reese’s apron is covered with honey, Dijon mustard, and a spray of soy sauce that definitely splattered onto the wall will not help me complete the task at hand.

When I finally finish the prep work, I take a seat and breathe as the oven preheats.

“How did it take me almost an hour and a half to do that?” I murmur to myself through labored breaths. I wipe a hand over my face and pop the food into the oven as soon as it’s ready.

Forty-five minutes in the oven and then everything will be done. That should land us right on time for when Reese arrives, plus his teammates.

While it’s in the oven, I take the world’s quickest shower and make what I’m sure will be a near-futile attempt to look presentable. My red hair is still frizzy, and my cheeks are still flushed, but at least I’m not doused in soy sauce anymore.

Shit, I haven’t hosted guests in ages. I definitely couldn’t in my small, crappy, almost-burned-to-the-ground apartment. But Reese has plenty of space, not to mention a fancy-as-hell dining room off the kitchen. Since we won’t all be able to fit at the four-person table in the open kitchen, I head back downstairs and start setting the table in the dining room.

Just as I’m deciding whether or not the small fork should go on the inside or the outside, the front door unlocks, and I hear Reese call out that he’s home.

Shit.

I check my phone. It’s only six forty-five. Why is he home so early? I bite my lower lip, frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Where are you?” Reese calls. I hear him walk into the kitchen, where there are still a few pots and pans left out from all of my prep. “Callie? Wow, looks like you were, uh, really cooking up a storm in here.”

“Reese!” I burst through the doorway that leads into the dining room. “What are you doing here? Get out of the kitchen.”

“Um—”

I turn him away from the sink, mentally berating myself for not doing my cleanup before setting the table.

“What’s going on?” he says with a laugh. “What are you up to, Firefly?”

“It’s a secret,” I say as I keep pushing his basically solid brick of a body away from my not-so-carefully executed surprise.

“Stop, stop, I’m super curious now.” He sniffs the air and lets out a contented sigh. “It smells so good. I didn’t know you could cook. Can you cook?”

“Of course I can cook. I know you offered to do it, but I figured it should be my turn.”

He takes a step forward without my pushing, and so much of my weight is leaned against him that I just about fall face forward onto the floor. Reese catches me and steadies me, gripping my arms. He grins down at me, his face is a few inches from mine. We’re so close that I can see a single, pale freckle just below his right eye that crinkles when he smiles. The sudden urge to kiss that spot hits me, but I hold it in.

“Alright. I’m gonna go shower and get changed,” Reese says once he’s sure I’ve got my feet under me. “But I’m excited for whatever’s cookin’, good lookin’.”

“You’re so cheesy.” I roll my eyes, shooing him out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

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