“Will do.”

I headed into the kitchen and prepped our plates. It only took a couple of minutes, but by the time I got back, the wine was poured and she’d moved some things around on the table.

“Okay, what’s different?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Knives on the right,” she said with a saucy wink. “And they call it a centerpiece for a reason. It goes in the middle. But I’ve got to tell you, Mr. Hamilton, I’m so impressed. All this for me?”

I shrugged and set down the plates. “Who better for than a friend I’ve known forever and care about, right?”

The light in her eyes dimmed a little as she took her seat again. “Exactly. Friends. And, um, thanks. It looks great.”

For a smart guy, I could be such a fucking idiot sometimes. In my effort to make her feel special, I’d just decreed that this wasn’t a date after all. It came out all wrong, and so far, my attempts at making tonight perfect were a major fail.

“Try the chicken,” I said, hoping that maybe if the food was good enough, she’d forget about what an asshole I was.

She cut off a morsel and tucked it into her mouth. I didn’t realize how important her reaction was until she made a low moan deep in her throat.

“Holy crap, that’s good. So moist and juicy,” she murmured.

A thrill shot through me, and I forked up a bite myself just to make sure she wasn’t bullshitting me. “You’re right. Not bad, if I do say so myself. Pam gave me the recipe.”

We worked our way around the plate, trying bites of everything at the same time and comparing notes. The meal went by without any more foot-in-mouth action, thank God, and when it was over, we were stuffed to the gills.

“How about I cook for you next time? I have this amazing lamb dish that—” She blinked and stopped short. “Not that there will be a next time, but . . .”

When she started toying with her napkin, I reached out and took her hand. “Evie, you don’t have to tiptoe around me. I like spending time with you, and this was my idea, after all. I’d love to do it again.”

She threaded her fingers with mine and held my gaze. “Then why did you try to break our date? And why were you in such a miserable mood at first? Did I do something wrong?”

I pushed my plate away with my free hand and leaned closer. It was time for a truth bomb. “Nope. Not a thing. In fact, I was looking forward to it all day. Your brother texted me. He asked if I wanted to hang out tonight, and I had to lie. I hate lying to him.”

Guilt clouded her eyes and she nodded slowly. “Me too. But what’s the alternative? We can’t hang out, or . . . maybe we could just tell him?”

I shook my head grimly. “We don’t even know what this is yet, Evie. If we tell him and things never progress beyond what they are, then we’ve either got him pissed that I slept with his baby sister when that didn’t even technically happen,” yet, my brain supplied, “or he mentally marries us off when we both want this to be casual.”

I didn’t even know if I felt that way anymore. Casual was such a fleeting word. But, damn it, I couldn’t deny that my heart was racing, and it wasn’t just from anticipation at the thought of spending more time with Evie.

It was fear.

The thought of admitting my own loneliness—and the way Evie made me feel—scared the piss out of me. Luckily for me, she didn’t seem to notice, because she nodded in agreement.

“Casual. I’m in. And you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but we can’t tell him. Ever. My brother can be overprotective and traditional like that. One sort-of date and he’ll be asking when you’re going to make an honest woman out of me. We’ve got to work together every day, and that kind of pressure will ruin any chance we have of juggling it all effectively.”

“So, now I answered your question. We can’t tell Cullen. Maybe you can finally answer mine,” I said, tracing my thumb absently over her palm. “Why did you come in my room that night? Are you really so hung up on the virginity thing that you just wanted to get rid of it?”

“What?” she asked, suddenly blinking at me.

“I’m not doing this. I’m not going to be your first.”

“You’re not. I mean, you weren’t,” she said tentatively.

“Wait, what?” The knowledge there had been someone before me sent ice water through my veins. I wanted to kill the motherfucker, beat him within an inch of his life, and I didn’t even know who the guy was.

“It was stupid. A guy I went out with last year. And it was horrible, as first times go.”

A knot formed inside my gut. “Meaning what? You didn’t enjoy yourself?”

Evie shook her head. “Not even a little. I wanted a do-over.”

“A do-over?” That wasn’t a thing. She knew that, right?

She shrugged. “My friend Maggie seemed to think it made sense.”

There was no sense in explaining to Evie that you could only have your first time once. It was clear that she was set on her goal of having a satisfying sexual experience, and damn if I didn’t respect the hell out of her for it.

She hesitated, but I could see her pulse jumping in her neck. “And I don’t know. I thought it would be good . . . with you.”

The tension in the air ratcheted up to the point that her hand started trembling in mine, and my dick went stiff. I’d asked for it by posing the question, so I had no one to blame but myself.