“And now the wine!” Léo proclaims excitedly, pushing a bottle of red into my hands. I look apprehensively at the chicken meat in the pot, and then tilt the bottle down, bathing the meat with red wine. “Good, good!” He cries out in his thick French accent, grabbing my hands and making me stop. “You have a knack for it!”

“Oh, I really doubt that,” I chuckle, wondering if I’ll ever be able to reproduce in my own kitchen what I’m doing here. I’ve always been a disaster when it came to cooking, and I seriously doubt that even a master chef like Léo will be able to change that. Still, no harm in trying, right?

If you’re wondering why I’m standing in the middle of Léo Moreau’s kitchen with an apron tied around my waist, that’s because Liam brought me here. Apparently, he thought that cooking lessons would be the perfect setting for a second date - and, guess what? He was absolutely right. This is challenging and, at the same time, fun. It sure as hell beats leaning against the counter of a bar and downing tequila shots in a frenzy - although, yeah, that can be fun as well.

“See? You’re not as bad at it as you said,” Liam laughs, sprinkling pepper over the chicken meat and then lowering the heat into a simmer.

“That’s because you and Léo are helping me out. If you guys weren’t here, I’d probably just set fire to the restaurant.”

“You really have self-esteem issues when it comes to cooking, don’t you?” He laughs again, one hand of his on my lower back as he shows me how to dice the mushrooms for the sauce.

“Ah, experience, Cara! It’s all about experience!” Léo says, clapping his hands together as he peeks over my shoulder, watching me handle the knife with Liam’s help. “Just keep at it and you’ll be a star in the kitchen!”

I laugh at that, imagining myself as the host of a Youtube cooking show. Caralyn, the wonder woman of ruining every single meal of the day - now that’d be a proper hit. Still, I gotta admit, I’m not doing so bad right now; I mean, it actually looks like this whole experience will result in something edible.

“If this turns out to be a disaster, I’ll still make you eat it,” I tease Liam, looking into his eyes and smiling. God, I can’t believe I’m having this much fun with him. And it’s not even the kind of superficial fun you have with a charismatic guy you just met at the bar; no, this is different. It’s the kind of fun where you can’t help but crave for more.

“Nah, you’re doing fine. After all, I’m here helping you out,” he shoots back, and I just hit him softly in the stomach with my elbow.

“That’s so humble of you,” I chuckle, even though I know he’s absolutely right. Scooping up a bit of flour with two fingers, taking it from the bowl in front of me, I then brush my fingers against his nose and laugh.

“Very funny,” he says, looking at me with a fake seriousness as he wipes the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand. Then, his face lights up with a smile and he leans in slightly, kissing my forehead out of the blue.

I just stand there, stunned by it. Sometimes, the most intimate and profound moment comes in a simple shape - like a kiss in the forehead. It’s not always about sex or grand gestures, I think. You can fake desire, and you can fake these grand gestures - but you can’t fake these little gestures.

Smiling to myself, I turn my attention back to the stove and pretend to check on the meat. Inwardly, I’m thinking about my first meeting with Misty - she was completely out of control and, now that I’ve met Liam, I can’t help but think that she might just be a bitter ex with an axe to grind.

Ah, but why am I thinking of Misty right now? Sighing softly, I push all thoughts of her to the back of my mind and decide to enjoy my time with Liam.

We finish cooking the coq au vin, a traditional french dish, and then we take it out to the dining room. Léo bows out, retreating to the kitchen, and leaves me and Liam to enjoy our dinner. Which we do - and, surprisingly, it tastes amazing. Now, I can’t say it’s because of me, since I had lots of help, but even so... I’ve managed to cook something other than ashes, and that’s a clear victory!

We spend about an hour enjoying dinner - and a bottle of red wine, obviously - and we take our time with it. It’s late at night, Léo’s in the kitchen (probably readying it for tomorrow) and we’re alone in the restaurant's dining room, the dim lights from the candles in our table making the lines in Liam’s face look even more gorgeous.

“We should do this again,” I tell him, suddenly feeling like a little girl that was swept off her feet by the cool guy every woman craves.

“We should,” he repeats, and then just stares into my eyes, keeping his silence. I look back at him, the silence in the room so deep I can even hear my heartbeat against my chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam asks me, his words cutting through the silence; reaching for my hand and grabbing it, his long fingers make mine look ridiculously small.

“I’m thinking about… Dessert,” I reply as I run my tongue between my lips, telling him the first thing that pops up into my mind.

“Dessert,” he laughs. “I could use some. What do you say we grab dessert somewhere else?” He asks me then, a devious smile dancing on his lips.

“Somewhere else…?” I ask him right back, returning his smile as I realize what’s on his mind.

“Yeah, somewhere else.”

“Like your place?”

“Nice thinking.”