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Laughing, I shake my head and bring the food warmers to the table. “No. It’s definitely safer for me to buy food than to prepare it.”

Parker walks toward me, and I pull out a chair for him. His expression takes on a certain resignation, or perhaps acceptance. But of what?

“Thanks.” He sits and sets his bag next to him.

“Would you like some wine?” I ask.

“Are you going to have some wine?” he replies.

I shake my head. “No, not before the season ends, and . . . ”

“Let’s skip the wine. I’ll have whatever you have.”

“You don’t have to,” I try again.

But Parker raises his hands in a dismissive gesture. “I prefer it this way.”

“Okay.” I grab a bottle of mint water I made myself with cucumber slices and another with orange slices and ginger. “That’s my selection.”

He pouts his lower lip. “One cucumber water and one ginger?” He can’t keep that mischievous grin in check and bursts out laughing. “Sorry. I’d love to try both. I’m not making fun of you.”

My stomach is churning in all sorts of directions. Of course he’s making fun of me. But not in a mean way. It makes me happy that I’m making him laugh. “As long as you haven’t tried it, I’d be careful about passing judgment.”

“Let me have some.” He holds out his wine glass, the one I didn’t swap out, and points to the bottle with the oranges. “The yellow one first, please. Later I’ll venture to the green one.”

With an exaggerated gesture, I pour him a glass, and he takes a sip. “Oh. Shit. That’s way better than I thought.”

I grab the warmed bowls from the oven, transfer the food, and set everything on the table. “I know that’s your favorite, but maybe we should try a few different ones?”

Parker’s eyes widen. “How much did you order?”

“Everything I can eat.”

He looks up and smiles. “All right. I’m starving. I haven’t had a chance to eat all day.”

Shaking my head, I sit next to him. “Are you still doing that? You have to take care of yourself.”

He waves it off. “I’m taking care of myself.”

He helps himself to the rice with the mild mango sauce and leaves his chickpeas untouched. I let my gaze wander over him, as far as I can with him sitting in the chair. He hasn’t changed a bit. I think about our little slip-up the last time we met here. We were too frantic. My only goal had been to feel Parker’s bare skin. There was no time for observation. Too eager for real contact, I let myself get carried away, failing to savor anything about him.

He peers at me. “Is something wrong?”

I shake my head. “Everything’s fine.”

We eat, and for a few seconds we let the silence between us settle.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Parker mumbles between two bites. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s no big deal. I’m glad I don’t have to eat alone,” I blurt out. “And as I said, I wanted to ask you something,” I quickly add to distract from my admission.

“Right. Did you read the report?”

I nod. “It’s all wonderful. It’s just that . . . ” I put down my cutlery and lean back slightly. “Not that I want to change anything about my situation.”

Parker watches me intently. “Yes?”

“During our first meeting, Derek was vehemently against all the other options you wanted to present. I’m curious what they entail.” I quickly raise both hands. “Not that I’m going to come out. Not now. Not in the middle of the season with the playoffs right around the corner.”