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“So you have a big family?” I ask.

“Four sisters. Two brothers.” He bends, grabbing a stack of plates. He gestures to a cabinet door and I open it, so he can put them inside. “Thanks.”

“Your parents have seven kids?” Even the most evangelical in our church tend to stop at five.

“Yep, and they brought it on themselves, too.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We’re all adopted.”

“Oh wow.” I grab two glasses off the rack. They’re still warm to the touch. “Your parents must be saints.”

His lips curve in a grin. “They’re good people.”

“Well it was just me and Axel growing up, but when your father is the minister of a mega-church it’s pretty much like you have one, giant, extended family.”

I reach for the silverware caddy, but he shoos me away. “You heard your brother. No cleaning up.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Maybe not, but I owe you one.”

I frown. “For what?”

He’s focused on pulling out all the knives, but tilts his head at me and says, “For stealing your first kiss.”

“Tha–tha–” I’m stammering. My cheeks are on fire. Horror creeps up my spine. “That wasn’t my first kiss.”

“No?” he asks, unphased by my panic. “Because your brother seems to think so.”

“Axel doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I lift my chin. “I have a boyfriend. More than that. I’m promised to him.”

He frowns, eyes darting down to where my finger twists the ring. “What does that mean anyway?”

“It means that we’re preparing for the next level. We’re committed to one another and soon we’ll get engaged and then married. The ring is a way to make it clear that we belong to one another.”

“So he wears a ring, too?”

“Well, no,” I admit, but add quickly, “but men don’t wear engagement rings either.”

“Huh.”

I lean my hip against the counter. “What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” he asks innocently.

“That ‘huh.’”

“Nothing really,” he says, those brown eyes slowly dragging from the ring up to my face. “It’s just not how I would do it.” Our eyes hold and an itchy sensation climbs up my skin. His gaze feels hot. Intimate. Like he’s trying to read me like a book. I break contact first, shifting away, and after a beat he goes back to the dishwasher, starting in on the spoons. “So what’s he like?”

“David?” He nods and I think about the man back home. “He’s kind. Funny. He has ambition and a great singing voice, although that’s not his interest. He’s majoring in business administration and will work for my father when he graduates.”

“Ah, taking Axel’s spot in the family business.” He gives me a wink. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

“He really is.”

So nice that suddenly I feel like a huge jerk for avoiding him like this.