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"Okay. An actual date." I said.

I rested my head against his chest again and felt him kiss my forehead, and I fell asleep listening to his heartbeat while Cooper lay in his bed snoring away.

I was in trouble; that much I knew. The kind of trouble I wasn't sure I'd survive if things went wrong between us, which is what scared me. It had only been a short time together, and already something was telling me I wouldn't be able to survive walking away from him if I needed to.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MARSHALL

I wanted our date to be perfect. I had spent two days thinking about it and was putting so much pressure on myself you'd of thought I'd never taken a woman anywhere before.

Dinner was an obvious choice, but that felt a little lazy to me. I wanted something to impress her, something she'd notice. After talking to her over the past few weeks, I knew what made her light up; she loved creative things. She liked to work with her hands and loved building things from raw materials. So, with the help of Jeremy and Aiden, I booked us a cooking class.

It was a small place in the south end of Boston, tucked between a bookstore and an upscale wine bar. The chef who ran it, Paulo had worked in restaurants all across Mexico before settling here in Boston. I booked us a private session for the two of us, learning to make guacamole and tacos from scratch.

I knocked on her door at half past five on Friday night and shoved my hands in my pockets while I waited for her to answer. I was nervous, which was mind-blowing to me after the fact that we'd already slept together.

She opened the door and smiled when she saw me. She wore jeans and a fitted black top, her hair was down, falling past her shoulders in loose waves, and the makeup she wore was so light it was barely there. I caught the scent of vanilla as she stepped out onto the porch and locked the door.

"Where are we going?" She asked as she climbed up into my truck.

"You'll see. It's a surprise." I said, getting into the driver's seat.

"Marshall, I'm not a huge fan of surprises."

I looked over at her, and placed my hand on top of hers. "Please trust me, you will love this one."

She looked at me and settled back into her seat, her hand resting comfortably on top of mine.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" She said, as we started our drive through Boston.

"No, that would ruin it."

"Even if I ask nicely?"

"No, not even then." I said.

"Fine, but if it's one of those paint and sip things, I am walking home. Mila tried to get me to do one once, it was disastrous." She said, squeezing my hand.

I laughed. "Alright, I will ease your mind. It's not a paint and sip."

"Good, because I cannot paint. My picture of the sunset looked like a crime scene."

We both laughed as I continued driving through the city, pulling up in front of the cooking studio and parking the car.

When we walked in, surprise washed over her face. She looked at the kitchen, taking in the countertops, the pots hanging from the rack above the island, the ingredients laid out in small bowls. Paulo greeted us with a wave, and Lillah turned to me with an expression that had made planning this evening worth it.

"A cooking class?"

"Yep, Mexican food from scratch. Unless you'd rather have dinner in some restaurant." I said, placing my hand on the small of her back.

"Are you kidding?" She asked, looking around the kitchen again, taking in everything. "This is perfect."

It was perfect for about ten minutes, which is when both of us started showing our competitive sides.

Paulo had us working side by side, each making our own batch of tortilla dough. It was simple, all we needed to do was mix corn flour with water. Mix it and then break it up and roll it into balls and let them rest until we were ready to press them. First, he showed, and then he stepped back, waiting for both of us to try.

I glanced over at her dough and noticed hers had come together much better than mine. Hers was smooth while mine was dry and crumbling.