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We lookveryout of place.
Finally, we pull up to a white brick house at the end of a cul-de-sac. It has to be the biggest one in the neighborhood, which only serves to make this entire evening that much more intimidating.
“Too bad he won’t let us park in the garage,” Dorian mutters under his breath, but I still hear it.
I understand, though. And I’m right there with him.
I put the car in park outside of the castle-style black garage doors and kill the engine.
“Well, let’s do this.” My voice is breathy.
He nods and pushes his door open, the thing creaking loudly as he does.
I look away from him and climb out myself.
Ugh.
We make our way to the front door, following the ornate sidewalk, lined with flowers and plants that I couldn’t name even if I wanted to.
“I bet they have a doorbell.” Dorian picks up his pace ahead of me. “The kind with the camera.”
“Probably.” The thought only makes me feel more anxious about everything.
Dorian smashes the doorbell, and I hear the chime on the other side of the wall.
I tap my foot, my palms sweating as I rest them against my black jeans.
The door swings open, and there’s Connor, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Hey!”
I was definitely overdressed.
“Love yourMinecraftshirt.” Dorian sounds almost giddy. He rushes inside after Connor, and I’m left to wander in on my own, closing the door behind me.
I breathe in the scent of the house, a mixture of sandalwood and something else, something masculine and welcoming.
The place looks like it’s straight out of a designer magazine, and it’sspotless.
I fold my arms across my chest as I make my way through the grand entrance, complete with a curved staircase.
“My dad’s in the kitchen.” Connor points to an opening just off the sitting room. “He’s taking the chick parm thing really serious for some reason.”
“Thanks.” I give him a smile as the two boys drift off, disappearing down a hallway. I take a deep breath, following the directions Connor gave me, and the closer I get, the more the smell starts to make my mouth water.
I walk through what must be the dining room, complete with a large black table, an industrial chandelier hanging above it. It’s already got four place settings ready, and I can’t help but wonder how expensive the china is.
When I reach the double doors leading to what I assume is the kitchen, I hesitate, my heart beating out of my chest.
Just act normal. It’s just dinner.
The thought does nothing for me, but I still push through the doors.
There, pulling out a dish, is Dr. Banks. His dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, and he’s got on a pair of jeans.
“Hi.” I clear my throat and take in the magnificent kitchen. I could only imagine just how lovely it would be to cook here every evening. Or all day.
He looks up from the dish as he sets it down.
And hesmiles.
