He shot me a look. “We could keep the party going, if you’re up for it.”
I licked my lips.
I shouldn’t.
I should hold my boundaries.
Tell him no.
Baby steps.
If we keep going, there’s no telling what will happen.
“I have salmon marinating in my fridge that I have to cook tonight,” I said. “And it’s kind of a shame to cook such a meal just for myself. Would you like to come over and join me? I’m not the best cook by any means, but I know my way around a maple Dijon salmon filet.”
His eyebrows lifted. “That sounds delicious. You sure you’re up for it?”
I nodded. “Definitely. Besides, I’ll need help up to my condo anyway.”
He chuckled. “Ah, the truth comes out. Labor for food.”
“You have to earn your keep, Cassidy.”
His chuckle turned into laughter, and I smiled so big my cheeks hurt. How could I put an end to a day that was going better than I could have imagined? The past was the past. If we could move on, wasn’t it worth a shot? The feeling of hope in my chest told me it was.
Worst case, I got hurt again, and we put an end to this.
Best case?
Well, that remained to be seen.
* * *
Jake salivated over his plate of food as we sat down on my balcony patio set after we had unloaded his car and cooked dinner. My twinkle lights were on, and all the birds in the neighborhood were singing their evening wind-down songs. On the balcony next to ours, my neighbor’s cat meowed and stuck his black leg and paw between the metal balcony railings, desperate for some of our salmon.
“Sorry, Mr. Purrsalot, this is too expensive to share,” I said.
Jake arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Purrsalot?”
“That’s his name,” I explained. “His owner is a big fan of King Arthur. He’s named after Lancelot, but with a twist.”
He laughed. “A twist indeed.”
I’d paired the salmon with risotto, something I liked to make when I was home alone. I found that it almost always turned out, so long as I used parmesan cheese every time. That was the non-negotiable agreement. Tonight, I’d added fresh peas, mushrooms, broccoli florets, and tiny pieces of carrot. It was a colorful accompaniment to the salmon beside a salad of fresh greens and balsamic dressing.
Jake took a bite of everything and nodded approvingly. “You could be a chef, Gabi.”
“No need to kiss my ass.”
He grinned over his plate of food. “I’m not kissing your ass. I mean it. This is top notch stuff right here. I’d pay you to serve me this.”
“You’d pay anyone to serve you something so long as you didn’t have to prepare it.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, fair enough. Rich guy problems.”
I smiled. “I’m glad you like it. And I’m glad you’re here so I can share it with you. Food always tastes better with good company.”
“Good company, huh? I’m not the asshole from last month anymore?”