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“Are you cooking for me?”

She liked that idea.

He sorted through the jargon in his head, settling on, “I’m going to try.”

“So, what are you making me?”

He turned on the stove and set it to a medium flame. “I’m going to attempt an omelet,” he announced or warned.

She sucked in an excited breath, folding her arms on the counter. “Is this your first time? It’s my first time.”

“It is,” he confessed, feeling like honesty would always be critical with her.

“This is great,” she praised, her tone begging his Lust. “It’s my first time to have a beautiful man cook for me.”

He nearly used his powers to discern how true that was as he searched the cabinets for the required items.

“A man has never cooked for you?” He found it hard to imagine. But not hard to hope.

“Hmmm, two have. But neither were beautiful.”

Beautiful. He was suddenly hungry for everything but food as he gave in to a partial smile, fumbling one of the mixing bowls he found.

“You probably get told that all that time by your many girlfriends?” she fished as he put his bowl on the counter.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a wife,” he added, recalling that relationship status also. “What about you?” he returned, wanting to hear her talk about how available she was.

She sighed and propped her cheeks in both palms, elbows on the counter. “I’m twenty-six years old and honestly thought I’d be married with children by now.”

Interesting. Why the rush? “Why aren’t you?”

He opened the carton of eggs and took one out, peeking at the softness of her face and the contemplation in her brows.

“Because I never found the right one.”

“No?” he echoed, feeling the easy flow of communicating.

She shook her head. “Because I’m terrible at deciding things,” she explained, dropping her hands. “Do you know, I once painted a wall six times in a month because I couldn’t decide on a color?”

He realized smiling seemed easier and wondered if it was part of that human data download. “I did not know this. Process of elimination is a legitimate form of decision making.”

“Mmm…” She wrinkled her nose with a headshake. “More like I have a color disease. Or a choosing disease. With color,” she clarified. “I can’t seem to settle on one in anything. I choose, yes, but every choice is second guessed, like a little… mental itch I have to scratch.” She suddenly tilted her head the other way, peering at him.

He was suddenly sorry he’d committed his clunky human faculties to something besides absorbing this moment. A bright, generational idea hit him. “What if I take you out to eat?” The moment he said it, he realized he lacked several things to make that possible. A vehicle. The ability to drive. And money.

“Oh my God, that would be amazing!” she gasped, locking him in tight to the offer. “Like a date? I haven’t been on a datein forever. It doesn’t have to be a date,” she hurried. “It can just be an outing with a friend. Unless you want to carry out your threat…” Her hands covered her face. “I didnotjust say that out loud.” She dropped them, revealing her happy smile, skin nearly red. “I would love a date. A dinner I mean.”

Fuck, he was double locked in now as his Lust spilled over and Rage plotted opportunities.

He’d have to make a call to King Ruby Cube. “Get dressed in something less… lethal,” he said after a struggle between era-choice words and straight up accuracy.

“Lethal?” she laughed, hopping off the stool. “Are you saying this outfit is dangerous?”

“It is,” he assured, locking gazes with her.

She widened her eyes. “You’re being serious,” she muttered, still smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment?”

“It’s just a fact,” he said, not ready to admit his growing obsession. And her outfit was lethal to the unfortunate soul belonging to the eyeballs that dared feast on her.