Which is exactly why I have spent the entire afternoon overthinking everything. I cleaned even though my house was clean, and then I cleaned some more. I also changed my outfit three times. Finally settling on jeans and a soft sweater that is comfortable but also makes me feel pretty without looking like I tried too hard.
At 5:30 p.m., I check the clock.
At 5:32 p.m., I check it again.
“Relax,” I mutter to myself. But relaxing is impossible when Everett Callahan is coming over. Because Everett isn’t just attractive. There is something about him that makes me feel safe, like I can open up and be my true self when he’s around. Like everything would work out simply because he existed in the same space.
And that is dangerous. Because I can already feel myself trusting him. At exactly six o’clock, there is a knock on my door.
I open the door and immediately forget every thought I’d been having.
He stands there holding two grocery bags, looking unfairly good for someone about to cook dinner. Those jeans he always wore were back. The ones that hug his thighs in a way that makes it impossible for me not to stare.
His sleeves are rolled up his forearms, exposing his tattoos that curve along his skin and veins that flex when he adjusts the grocery bags in his hand.
Butterflies explode in my stomach.
“Hey, beautiful,” he greets, smiling.
“Hi,” is all I manage to say.
I step aside, gesturing for him to come inside.
He instantly fills my apartment with his presence.
He sets the grocery bags on the counter and starts unpacking things.
“You can sit down,” he offers.
“Oh, can I?” I ask, sliding into the chair at my small kitchen table.
“Absolutely,” he confirms as he pours me a glass of wine and places it on the table in front of me.
I could get used to this.
He moves around in my kitchen, like he has cooked here before. Easily, with confidence, like he belongs here.
“Salt?” he asks.
“Second drawer.”
“So,” I say, casually swirling my wine, “do you always cook on first dates?”
He glances at me, a slow grin forming.
“This is actually my first time,” he winks.
My stomach drops straight to the floor.
Dinner comes together quickly.
Chicken sizzling in the pan, vegetables roasting in the oven, soft music playing quietly from my speaker.
We talk the entire time.
About childhood.
About growing up in Lavender Creek.
