The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)

He planted his hands on the wall behind her and lined his body up against hers so they fit just right, hardness to softness, curves to hollows. “Sexy Stella.”

Their lips joined for another breathless kiss.

“Oh my God, get a room.”

Stella jumped at the brusqueness of Sophie’s voice, and Michael laughed as he broke away. Without looking at them, Sophie marched into the kitchen.

“Let’s eat.” He grabbed Stella’s hand and led her to the two empty seats at the kitchen table.

When everyone cast knowing glances at them, she blushed and stared down at her bowl. Slices of tomato and green herbs floated atop an orange soup thickened with something that looked like scrambled eggs.

“You should wear your hair down more often, Stella,” Sophie said. “Might want to pull it up to eat, though. It’ll get dirty.” She held a jar of brown-colored something out to her. “Want some?”

Stella reached for it. “What is—”

Michael snatched it and set it on the table. “She’ll faint if she smells it, Soph. Her nose is super sensitive.”

Sophie shrugged. “Stinks but tastes good.”

The label was mostly Chinese, but at the bottom it read Fine Shrimp Sauce.

“I like shrimp,” Stella said.

Michael pushed the jar to the other side of the table. “Not this kind of shrimp. Even I can’t eat this stuff.”

“Let her try it, Michael,” Sophie said.

When Stella’s gaze fell upon Janie and Maddie, both girls shook their heads in matching horror.

With an impatient sigh, M? grabbed the jar and put it in front of Stella. “This is m?m ru?c. The correct way to eat bún riêu is with m?m ru?c.”

Stella closed her fingers around the jar. Feeling a lot like Snow White with her apple, she brought it to her nose. On the first whiff, her eyes watered. It was fishy, shrimpy, and potent. Upon her second and third sniffs, however, the smell lost some of its force. “You just put it in the soup?”

M? spooned a dollop into Stella’s bowl. “Like this. And lime and chili sauce.” She squeezed lime in and added a spoonful of red spicy-looking sauce.

As she picked up her chopsticks and soup spoon, Michael watched her with wide, apologetic eyes. She mixed everything together, twirled the noodles around her chopsticks, and placed them in her spoon with broth like she’d seen Sophie do. Then she put it in her mouth.

It tasted . . . good. Salty, a little sweet, a little tangy. She grinned as she had another spoonful. “I like it.”

“It’s good, right?” Sophie asked. “High five, you.”

Stella high-fived Michael’s sister, feeling silly but also like she’d made up for refusing to eat the BPA-laced food. His mom was smiling, Ngo?i was mmmming, and Janie and Maddie were muttering to themselves.

“Th

ey refuse to try it,” M? said, pointing to the two youngest.

“It smells like death,” Janie said.

Maddie nodded emphatically. “Dead bodies.”

M? blasted them with a harsh string of Vietnamese, and both girls cowered.

Under the table, Michael squeezed her leg. He leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “Do you really like it? You don’t have to eat it. I can get you something else.”

“I really do.” She’d still eat it even if she hated it, though. His mom looked proud and vindicated. And it wasn’t poisoned. Not that she knew of.

He brushed his lips over hers once before pulling away with a cough and a laugh. “I can smell it on you.”