Our second supper with Anthony had been eventful.

Well, more like a complete and utter disaster.

Between Lucca breaking one of Anthony’s brand new lamps and Anthony almost setting fire to the kitchen when he decided to re-heat the fried chicken Grandmama had whipped up for us, my poor little heart was pounding away.

“Well,” I said, staring at the blackened oven with wide eyes, “thank heavens for fire extinguishers because I sure didn’t want to run across the street to get Keith.”

Lord knows if I did, Grandmama, Maddie, and the behemoth would all follow him over here. That’s the last thing I want.

Anthony scowled at me. “It wasn’t my fault!”

Oh, but it was.

“Anthony, sugar, I know you don’t cook daily, but common sense should tell you that putting paper towels in the oven isn’t a good idea.” A cocky smirk spread across my face. “And here I thought you were a smart cookie.” I made a tsk’ing sound. “Turns out I was wrong.”

He slammed the oven door shut and turned to face me. “You keep running that smart mouth of yours and—”

“You’ll what?” I interrupted, lifting my chin in the air. “If you say you’re going to spank me I’ll be forced to remind you of the conversation we had earlier.” My eyes narrowed. “And if you threaten to handcuff me again, I may shove you in the damn oven.”

He hung a lopsided grin on his face before crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah? What if I threaten to do both? One right after the other?”

I scrunched up my nose in mock disgust to hide the smile that threatened to split my face in half. “You’re a pervy bastard. You know that?”

He sat the fire extinguisher he held in his hand on the kitchen island. “Only when it comes to you.”

I gasped and clutched my chest dramatically. Batting my eyelashes, I looked at the ceiling and whispered, “Did you hear that, sweet baby Jesus? He’s only a perv when it comes to me. I feel so dang special, I’m not sure I can contain it.”

It was Anthony’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Listen, sass mouth—”

Carrying crayons in both hands, Lucca barreled into the kitchen, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Ma-ma!” He shouted loud enough to wake the dead. “U-ka eat!”

I swear the boy had two noise levels—silent and eardrum bursting loud.

Anthony scooped my little man up into his arms. Apparently, Lucca had forgiven him for kissing me earlier. “Dude, we’ve got a bit of a problem.” Anthony glanced at me, and I thinned my lips to keep from laughing. “It appears as though I have fuc—” he caught himself before dropping the F-bomb, “fudged up.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” I muttered under my breath.

“Cuffs, sunshine,” he whispered in return. “Keep it up, and you’ll be wearing them.”

Like hell I will.

Lucca looked my way. “Ma-ma,” he huffed, clearly frustrated, “U-ka eat.”

“Okay,” I said, looking around the kitchen. “We’ve got to figure something out. I’m starving, Lucca’s starving.” Anthony’s countertops were bare, and I didn’t hold much hope for his fridge or pantry. “Do you have anything stowed away? I can make a meal out of whatever you have on hand.”

Anthony looked at me like I was crazy. “Baby, did you not hear me say I don’t cook?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m never here. Only thing I’ve got on hand is protein powder and frozen broccoli.”

Gross.

“Okay, well, what if I order us pizza? Mario’s delivers to this side of town. I’ve only eaten there once, but their food is decent.”

“How about I take you and Lucca out for dinner?” He suggested, placing one arm on the counter and holding Lucca with the other. “Guys at the station insist that little Mexican restaurant on Main Street is supposed to be good.” He looked down at Lucca who was playing with the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Will my little dude eat Mexican?”

“Lucca will eat anything that isn’t glued to the floor.” It wasn’t a lie. “He isn’t the least bit picky. Hell, Hope got him to eat Tofu. What’s that tell you?”

Anthony’s face paled. “Tofu? Really, piccolo principe?” A shudder ran through him. “Me and you need to talk about food, bro.”

I snorted. “Mexican is fine. Long as you don’t mind being seen with lil ol’ me.” I batted my eyelashes again. “People might start talking once they see you hanging around with the town priss, though, so don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Anthony scowled again. “Anybody calls you that in front of me, I’ll be the one getting cuffed.” His voice was deep; his tone gravely. “I can’t believe someone would say that shit about you. You’re one of the sweetest fuc—,” he paused, “fudging women I’ve ever met.”

He thinks I’m sweet?

“It’s because I don’t date. I’ve had plenty of offers,” my eyes dipped to the kitchen island, “but I’ve never accepted any of them.”

“Why?”

I fidgeted and shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “Haven’t wanted to.”

Not until you.

“I have no desire to date. My only priorities are working, finishing school and taking care of my son.” I gave a half shrug, trying my best to appear nonchalant. “Not to mention, I haven’t had the best of luck with men.”

Anthony’s face hardened. “Yeah,” he replied softly, “ you and me, we’re going to have a little chat about that later.”

Not happening, stud muffin.

“Just as soon as we get the chance, Shelby, you’re going to lay it all out for me.”

I forced my spine to straighten. “There isn’t anything to talk about, Tony.”

His eyes never wavered from mine. “We’ll see.”

Wanting to change the subject, I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the island. Anthony’s eyes dipped to the neckline of my tank top.

I smirked.

Such a dirty bastard.

After peeking at Lucca to make sure he wasn’t looking at me, I hooked my index finger in the neck of my shirt and pulled it down a couple of inches, flashing Anthony the top half of my boobs. Cocking my head to the side, I whispered, “Since you like to stare so much, I thought you might want a better look.”

He inhaled harshly.

I released my shirt and stood straight. “So,” I said, pretending that nothing had happened, “are you driving, or am I?”

Anthony’s eyes crashed into mine, and I sucked in a breath. “You’re playing with fire.”

Feeling bold, I shrugged, and replied, “What can I say? I like living on the edge.” I grabbed my keys off the counter, took Lucca from his arms, and walked into the living room. After scooping up Lucca’s diaper bag from the sofa, I headed for the front door. “Come on, Tony.” I pulled open the door and stepped out. “We don’t have all damn day.”

“I’m coming,” he barked right back. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him adjusting himself in his pants. I smiled when he caught me looking. “See what you did?” He shook his head and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “This,” he pointed at the tent in the front of his slacks, “is all your damn fault.”

I blew him a kiss. “Better get used to it, sugar, because it won’t be the last time.” Giving him a parting wink, I headed for the driveway. Feeling his eyes glued to my retreating back, I exaggerated the natural sway of my hips with each step I took.

Behind me, Anthony groaned.

“Killing me, baby. You’re absolutely killing me.”

Good, I thought. Because you’re killing me too.