“ARE YOU SURE IT TAKES all this stuff to make dinner?” I survey the kitchen. It looks like the grocery store threw up on the floor, counters, and table.

“How do I know? I’m a kid.”

“You were the one that read off the ingredients from the app. I need a little confidence here, Huxley.”

“There were about seven ingredients on the list. We got . . .” He looks at the golden plastic bags overtaking the kitchen. “We got way more than that. We should start putting this stuff away.”

I start opening cabinets and looking inside. “What are you doing, Lincoln?”

“Trying to figure out where this stuff goes.”

I think he sighs behind me, but I don’t double check. We’re running out of time. The app says it will take almost an hour to make the pasta and I wanted to try to make sure the wine was chilled and put the cake from the bakery on a plate of some sort like my mom does when she tries to pretend like she’s baked something.

“Can I ask you something?” Hux asks.

“Sure.”

“Why are you going to this much trouble to make dinner for a girl? Do you like her or something?”

My hand stills on the bag of frozen spinach. “I do. I like her a lot.”

“What’s her name?”

“Danielle.”

He nods, organizing all the ingredients from the recipe beside the stove. Then he goes to work putting things in an empty cabinet.

“I’m going to need your help tonight,” I say, sticking a container of coffee next to my brand new coffee pot.

“How?”

“I need you to help this girl think I’m awesome.” He peers at me over his shoulder.

“You’re my wingman.”

“Wingman?”

“Yeah. Wingman,” I say, putting three different flavors of coffee creamer on the door of the refrigerator. “That means it’s your job to be adorable and to say nice things about me when you can. But, you know, don’t force it. Just when the time is right. And don’t say anything about the texts on my—”

“I get it. You need me to make her fall in love with you.”

“In love with me?” I balk. “No, no, no. You don’t get it at all.”

The little shit smirks at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was Barrett’s kid with that look. “I think I get it better than you do.”

“Fuck,” I sigh, opening a box of plates. They’re navy blue and heavy.

“We should wash those first.”

“What?” I ask, looking at him. “Where do you get this stuff ?”

“Life. Haven’t you ever moved? You always wash things before you use them if you haven’t used them in a while.” He watches me before laughing. “Did you buy glasses too?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t you have glasses?”

“I’m not sure how many.”

He glances at the clock. “What time is she coming?”

“In about an hour.”

“Do you have any idea how to cook? Have you ever cooked at all?”

“Some,” I say defensively. “Look, I’m the adult here. You’re the kid. You put this shit away and I’m going to . . .” I pull up the recipe on my phone. “I’m going to bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook for eight to ten minutes or until al dente, whatever that means, and then drain and reserve.”

Hux sighs. I do too.

THE CAKE LOOKS PRETTY GOOD on the plate. Some of the icing got knocked off as I tried to slip it out of the box, but I fixed it with my finger. Then licked it off. That got me a look of disapproval from Hux.

“So you know what to do, right?” I ask, drying the glasses and setting them on the table beneath the lit candles.

“Yes. Be cute. Say nice things about you. And don’t talk about what’s on your phone or what I heard you say to the girl on the phone after Barrett’s election at the Farm.”

My brain races to remember what I would’ve been saying. “Did you mention any of that conversation to your mom?”

“No,” he grins. “But I Googled it.”

Putting him in a headlock, I rub my knuckles over his head. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

“Hey, Linc? I think the sausage is burning.”

As soon as he says it, I smell it. “Fuck!” I hustle across the room and start fumbling with the knobs on the stove. “That oil got hot fast.”

“Take it off the burner for a minute,” Hux suggests. “It’s what my mom does when the eggs start burning in the morning.”

I try it. It works. The sizzle quiets down a little and by the time it’s cool enough and I can put it back down and break it up with a big plastic spoon, it doesn’t look too bad.

Huxley starts to say something when the doorbell rings. Instead, he raises a brow. “You want me to get it?”

I’m flustered, my hands reaching for the onions and garlic and then looking at the door again. How can I crack a homerun with full count and not break a sweat, yet I don’t know which way to go right now?

“Um,” I stutter, unsure as to what to do.

Huxley’s hand lands on my bicep. “I’ll get the door. You need to get yourself together.”

Before I can respond, he’s skipping out of the kitchen. I busy myself trying to take the skin off the onion and eavesdropping on Huxley and Dani as much as I can. I don’t hear much. Finally, I glance up and they’re standing in the doorway.

Huxley’s wearing a huge grin, his eyebrows lifting up and down. I chuckle and then stop when my gaze lands on Danielle.

She’s wearing a pair of jeans that are tucked into a pair of boots. A mustard-colored sweater sits snugly around her curves, which are showcased even more with her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head.

My mouth goes dry. I can’t take my eyes off of her. Something about the way she looks in my house, so casual and easy, has my brain fogged.

“Hey,” she says finally. “I think you’re burning that.”

“Shit!” I exclaim, turning around to see the sausage meat frying again. Pulling it off the burner, my jaw locked, I remind myself I can’t mess this up. This is my chance to prove I’m more than a bachelor, more than a baseball player, more than the athlete types she knows. And I’m burning fucking dinner.

Her hand lands on my back and I relax on contact. Her vanilla perfume wraps around me as she peers into the skillet. She must sense my anxiety because she lifts on her toe and kisses my cheek. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish.”

“Get cleaned up?” I say, standing there holding a pan in the air. “Do I not look good?”

I’m slightly offended. I’ve busted my ass to make this night as perfect as possible and everything is going wrong.

“You have grease and chocolate icing all over your shirt,” she whispers. I look down and see that she’s right. “Let me help.”

“You don’t even know what I’m making.”

“Huxley will help me.” She looks over her shoulder. “Right, Hux?”

“Sure.”

She pats my ass. “Go on. Get a new shirt on and breathe a little, Landry. He’s just a kid.”

I hide my smile. “Yeah, why I’m so nervous about a kid is beyond me.”

Turning on my heel, I pass Hux and give him a wink. He responds by sticking a hand out that I high five on my way out.