Page 87 of One Wild Chance

“Thanks.” I twist off the cap. “I can eat at home.”

I don’t tell him I passed up the pulled-pork tonight because I didn’t want to get it on my dress. It was a ridiculous choice in hindsight.

“This is a date,” Jaxon insists. “I can’t let you eat by yourself.”

I open my mouth to tell him this isn’t a date, not really. This was an escape plan. A ruse to get away from Blaine Callahan. That’s all I ever expected from our agreement.

But something tells me he’s taking his promise seriously. He wants to show me how a woman should be treated.

“Unless we go back to the concert or bar, there’s no place around that’s open,” I explain, as if the matter is purely practical. “I’m not really in the mood for bar food.”

This is safer anyway. We can’t go on a date if there’s no place to go.

“I have an idea,” he says. “Let’s head back to the farm.”

“To do what?”

“Eat, of course.”

I burst out laughing. “But how’s that different from any other day?”

“Because I’m going to cook for you,” he says. “Do you like filet mignon?”

“Excuse me?” I blink. “You keep filet mignon lying around in case you have a last-minute date?”

“No, I keep it around because I like to eat it.” He pulls onto the street, and I know he’s already decided.

“But is it a date if it’s at your parents’ house?”

“Who says a date needs to be at a restaurant?” A slow grin tugs at his lips. “Give me one night and I can make it a date you won’t forget.”

My stomach flips. His smirk is as dangerous as standing in an open field during a lightning strike.

I’ve never been alone with Jaxon in his parents’ house like this. There was always someone around to break the tension. But nobody will be there tonight. Just Jaxon and me and a house that’s completely empty.

Chapter 25

Summer

Thirty minutes later, he’s putting steaks on the grill, the smoky meat smelling like heaven to my rumbling stomach. I can’t even remember the last time I splurged on a steak. Between Mom’s bills and my own, every paycheck disappears almost immediately.

There’s a table for two on the wraparound porch where Jaxon has already set a white tablecloth and a lit candle.

“You know we could eat off paper plates,” I suggest. “I’m very low maintenance.”

He scoffs, like I’ve personally offended him.

“This china was my mother’s.” He holds up a cream-colored plate ringed in tiny roses, with a real gold edge. “A wedding gift to my parents, passed along from my grandparents.”

“Yet another reason not to use it.” I try to grab the plate from him, but he lifts it above his head like we’re playing keep-away. “You should save it for a special occasion, Jaxon!”

“This is a special occasion,” he insists.

I give up, and he sets the table with the nice china, then adds crystal glasses next to the plates.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen these before,” I remark, picking up the cut glass and spinning it so it shimmers in the candlelight.

“Mom never used them. Always said she would someday. But that’s the problem with someday—you never get around to it.” His gaze flicks to me. “Plus, I’m supposed to impress you.”