The grain of rice distracted me, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. Danica lifted her hand and let it hover near her chin. “What? Is something wrong?”
“You’ve got a bit of—”
I touched my lower lip on the left side, mirroring her right where the offending item sat.
“Is there?” She touched the left side of her mouth, missing the rice. “Oh, no.” She colored enough that I could see her blush by candlelight.
“Let me.” I reached forward and brushed her lower lip with my thumb, and then placed the bit of rice in my napkin. “There. It’s fine.”
With her fingertips, she grazed the area. “I’m so embarrassed.”
She shouldn’t be. It’d given me a chance to touch the full lower lip of that perfect, tiny mouth. My fingers curled.
“Ever since you came by my house that day and burned me a cheese sandwich, I’ve been trying harder.”
“Harder to what?”
“Cook.”
But there was no food in her cupboards. “Did you shop for ingredients?”
“My mom brought them by, based on a shopping list I gave her. I told her I was going to learn to cook.” Danica set down her spoon. “Would you believe she gut-laughed?”
Yes. “That’s not very nice.”
“No, but it taught me something about my former self, and guess what? I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
My eyes flew open. “Yeah?” I maintained a casual tone, but my insides buzzed with swarms of a thousand bees of excitement. She wanted to leave some of her old ways behind. That meant everything to me. “Have you tried cooking anything yet?”
A little pout formed on that perfect mouth. “I’m going to need a coach.”
I was so available for that. “Who have you got in mind? Is there a local cooking school in Wilder River I’m not aware of?”
A soft guffaw. “This is Wilder River.” As in, small towns have nothing exciting such as cooking schools. “I was kind of hoping …” She lifted her large blue eyes to meet mine.
“Me?” I shook my head, even though my insides were singing triumphant superhero movie theme songs. “I’m much more of a businessman than a cook.”
“You made this.” To prove her point, she took a big bite of the orange chicken and spoke through it as she chewed. “It’s incredible. Better than any restaurant. If I could remember restaurant food. Anyway, I know it tastes great. One dish? A signature dish, could you teach me?”
I sat back, as if contemplating, as if I needed an inducement. “I don’t know.”
“Please, Jeremy?” She batted her lashes and placed her hands flat beneath her chin. It was darling. “Maybe just a few fundamentals, then? I’d give you something in return.”
“Something like what? I have almost everything I need.” Except Danica.
“Name your price.”
A kiss. Fifty kisses. A lifetime of a loving marriage. “Wash my truck?”
Her chin dropped. “You’re kidding. I’m barely five feet tall. That thing might as well be a skyscraper.”
“If you don’t really want to learn to cook, then …”
“No,” she jumped to say. “I’ll do it. Can it be at a carwash, driving through?” Her head wagged. “I guess not. It’s a nice truck. It needs personal care.”
Now, to be sure, I’d never hand-washed my own truck. The drive-through carwash was more than fine for that thing. But did I regret the image of Danica in car-washing clothes holding a hose and using a big carwash sponge?
No. I did not. “It’s a deal.” I held out my hand to shake on the terms.