Page 137 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“I want to spend every birthday here,” I say softly. And then I suddenly feel self-conscious. That’s probably really childish that I’m twenty-two and want to celebrate all my birthdays at a random chain restaurant.

I wonder how Leo spent his birthdays. He grew up in a family with tons of money, so I bet he had lavish celebrations. I bet going to The Cheesecake Factory wasn’t a big deal at all, like it was for me growing up.

I let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Is that lame?”

“Nope. My sister and I would beg our parents to take us to The Cheesecake Factory all the time as kids.”

I perk up. “Really?”

He nods. “My dad wouldn’t let us because he thought the food was unhealthy and would interfere with my nutrition and training as an athlete.”

That hard look flashes in his eyes, but he blinks it away a second later.

“Where was your favorite place to celebrate your birthday growing up?” I ask, changing the subject.

“When I was little, McDonald’s.”

He laughs. So I do.

“Me too,” I say.

“When I was a teenager, my friends and I would almost always go to Buffalo Wild Wings.”

I smile at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Our teenage taste buds loved their wing sauces. We’d dare each other to try the hottest ones.”

I chuckle, feeling comforted that a rich kid like Leo enjoyed normal things, just like me.

“What’s the hottest sauce you could handle?” I ask.

“Spicy garlic.”

I burst out laughing. “Really? That’s not even that spicy.”

“Yeah, it is.” His tone is defensive, but he’s smiling. It’s really cute.

“It barely tingles in your mouth when you taste it.”

“I had to drink a glass of milk the first time I tried it.”

“Wow. I had no idea you were such a baby when it comes to spice,” I tease.

He quirks an eyebrow at me, the edge of his mouth tilted up in a sly half-smile. “Okay, Miss Hot Sauce. What’s the spiciest flavor you tried at Buffalo Wild Wings?”

“Blazin.’”

He looks at me. “That’s their hottest one.”

“Yup.”

“Did you need to chase it with milk?”

I smile. “Nope.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Damn. You’re hardcore.”

“I guess I’m just a lot tougher than you,” I tease.