That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(92)

Laughing, he nods toward the table. “Go on. Put on some of that Shawn Mendes shit—he’s catchy and upbeat.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Brig too much.”

“That’s what happens when I fuck things up with you. I’m forced to hang out with other people and pick up their bad habits.”

Rolling my eyes, I go to my phone and look through my Spotify playlists. “Yeah, I heard you’ve been having some movie nights with your parents.”

“Jesus, are there no secrets in this town?”

“Nope.”

“Let me guess, Harper told you?”

I pick a simple crooner playlist that’s a mix of Louis Armstrong, Doris Day, and Frank Sinatra. “I keep my sources to myself.”

“It was Harper.” He looks over his shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

“If you’re amping it up, it better be good.”

“Be prepared to get your tits blown off, babe.”

I would be laughing at his statement if I wasn’t so caught off guard by his term of endearment. Babe. I don’t have much time to think about it, though, as he spins around and holds out a little tray full of fresh apples, what look to be cake bites, and donuts. In the center is a pot with two sticks coming out of the top. In his other hand he carries the plates.

All that was in his bag?

He sets the tray down, and the smell of warm blueberry caramel floats in the air.

“You brought me fondue?”

“Not just any kind of fondue but a special recipe I plan on using to shock the hell out of your brother tomorrow, as a final add-on to the menu. Donut holes made from scratch along with the pound cake bites and, well, the apples. I just sliced those, but I sliced them myself.”

“Impressive,” I joke. “And the caramel?”

“My secret recipe. Blueberry caramel as an ode to Maine, with a rich, sweet texture. It’s really fucking good, and since I maxed out my parent-time quota this week, I thought I’d share it with you.”

“I wasn’t your first choice?” I ask, teasing, but his face grows serious.

“You know you’re always my first choice, with everything.”

And I believe that. After what he showed me yesterday, the space he created for me, I know that’s the truth, and accepting it chips away another piece of the wall I erected around my heart the night he broke it.

Needing to take the conversation in a less intense direction, I ask, “So you’re surprising Eric with this tomorrow? You should wait until Friday and have it at the Knight and Port gathering—really shock him.”

“I thought about it.” He hands me a skewer. “But then I didn’t want to throw your brother off completely in front of all of the new employees. He’s not keen on surprises, so I figured I’d have it on the table when he comes over tomorrow. But I want your approval first—let me know it’s good enough.”

“My approval, huh? Well, I’m not going to take it easy on you. I’m going to tell it like it is. If this is crap, I’ll let you know.” I skewer an apple slice, then dip it and bring it to my mouth. “I don’t want you selling—” I take a bite. “Oh heavenly mother.” I chew. “Oh my God, what the hell is in this caramel? Crack?” I look him dead in the eyes. “Did you put crack in this?”

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Lots of butter and the freshest blueberries.”

I dip my apple and take another bite. “Seriously, this is so good.”

Brow furrowed, he looks at the caramel pot and then back up at me. “You just double-dipped.”

“So?” I shrug, dipping again.

“You contaminated it. Now I can’t have any.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes as I chew. “Your tongue has licked the back of my throat. You’ll survive.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where that mouth has been,” he teases.

“Nowhere since you broke up with me,” I shoot back, picking up a donut and popping it in my mouth. Just as good. Seriously, he’s a genius.

“Wait, what?” With a donut halfway to his mouth, he stares at me, shocked. “I thought . . .”

“You thought wrong.” I pop a soaked piece of pound cake in my mouth and nearly drool. “This very well might be my new favorite thing. Seriously, Reid, be prepared to make a lot of this.”

“Wait, can we go back to what you were saying about the dating thing? I thought you were with Oliver?”

“We’re just friends. Do you really think I would be out dating people right after we broke up?”

“Shit.” He blows out a rough breath and then pulls on the back of his hat. “That . . .” He chuckles. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“Why?”

“Because that means I won’t have to fight anyone to get you back.”

“Not true,” I say, glancing over at him. “You have to fight yourself, and that will be the biggest battle of them all.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN





REID


“Do you need any help?” my mom asks, placing her hand on my back and looking over one of the buffets of food that stretch across five six-foot-long tables spread across the house.