He stood there, his gaze trailing slowly from head to toe. His face gave nothing away, but something fierce flickered behind his eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on interrupting,” he said finally, “but I couldn’t ignore the live performance.”

I cleared my throat, my face flushed. “I was just… cooking.”

“Right. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He stepped further into the kitchen, still watching me.

I turned back to the stove like nothing happened, even though my heart was ...