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“The good stuff” was right next to me now.

Jesus, Eliza, chill. You’ll start a fire.

But this was the closest we had been since our ball field date. So I tried to play it cool. “Excuse me?”

He pointed to the pot of sauce in front of me. “That’s a Fulton secret family recipe, right there. You need to show it some respect and really spoon it on, Crowley. Here, let me show you.” His fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he stepped closer till his chest touched my shoulder. My entire body hummed with energy as his breath moved the flyaway hairs near my ear.

It would be so very easy to turn my head just a little, to let his mouth brush my cheek, then maybe move lower down my neck.

“It’s all in the wrist.” His voice was low and a little scratchy—totally sexy. He moved my hand over the pot.

“Reed,” I warned. His fingers caressed mine as he helped me stir. “Our families—”

“—are distracted right now.” He slowly rotated my hand till the ladle dunked inside the sauce. “Don’t be modest about the servings. These good people know what they want.”

This one sure does.

I let my free hand slip behind me and slide through one of his belt loops, pulling his hips closer to my back.

His lips brushed the top of my earlobe, and I shivered.

Yes, more of that, please.

But we were too close.

Much too close.

Dad would definitely see this, and yet…

Screw it.

“So like this?” I eased back just enough to let my hips rub slightly below his and stretched my arm out over the sauce pot again.

“Mhmm.” He stepped closer to me and ran his fingers down the left side of my shorts before brushing them against my thigh. “Just like that.”

Holy sweet mother of—

“Eliza!” TJ’s voice boomed from the other table.

Reed jumped back, and I dropped the ladle, sauce splattering the tablecloth. “Y-yeah?” I called back, my voice cracking.

“You spoon that stuff any slower and we’ll be here all night.” He waved a set of tongs at me and glared at Reed.

He held up his hands in an unfortunate surrender. “I should go see if my grandparents need help with anything.”

TJ narrowed his eyes. “You do that.”

Reed walked around the table and lowered his voice. “So is the top of the press box still the best place to see fireworks around here?”

I smiled and spooned another serving of sauce on a pile of pasta. “It is. But you have to have special connections to get up there, Fulton.”

“Good to know.” His dimple appeared, making me almost drop the ladle again. He picked up a couple of bowls. “What time do I meet you there, Crowley?”

My stomach fluttered at the thought. “Nine-ish?”

“Nine it is.”

I ladled my last two bowls and set them out for pickup before heading toward Mom for more pasta.