I don’t ask any more questions about his family, because it seems to put him in a dark mood, and I’d much rather have the flirty, sweet, funny Lance. My family has always been pretty close. Even my sister, who has a hard time settling down anywhere, always shows up for the important events, though most of the time she asks for money before she leaves. Fortunately, we’ve arrived at the little café. It’s busy, maybe because it’s a Monday night and lots of places aren’t open.

Lance holds the door open for me and groans when the smell of sugar, coffee, and baked goods hits him. “Now I’m really starving.”

“We’ll feed your beast.” I pat his flat stomach, then realize the unrequested contact might not be all that welcome.

But he grabs my hand before I can pull it away. He threads his fingers through mine and squeezes before guiding me through the tables to the counter. A glass case features muffins, scones and ornately decorated cakes. On the chalkboard menu above the cashier is a list of sundaes and ice cream options.

“There’s a gummy bear sundae?” Lance asks, awestruck. He looks at the girl standing behind the counter. “Is that any good? Do they really use gummy bears?”

“Um. Yes. And everything here is good.”

He looks down at me. “Have you ever had one?”

“No. I usually get their lava cake, but you’re allergic to chocolate, right?”

“You can still get it.”

“Well, how allergic are you?”

Lance frowns, and then his eyebrows pop up, his eyes moving to my mouth. “Uh, on second thought, I guess it might be better to avoid it if you want me to say a proper good night later.”

“I’d like a proper good night.”

His smile is devilish. “I’d like several proper good nights.”

Lance orders the gummy bear sundae and a strawberry tea—this place doesn’t have a liquor license—and I get the carrot cake and lavender tea. We look around for a table, but the options are limited. Lance spots a tiny two-top in the corner, grabs my hand again, and leads me over. He pulls out my chair, tucking me in. Then he moves his chair so he’s not across from me, but perpendicular, his knee touching mine as it bounces under the table.

“I like this place.”

I shrug out of my jacket. “Me, too. April and I come here sometimes.”

“The girl at the clinic, right? The one you don’t want to touch me.”

“That would be her.”

Lance tugs the end of my ponytail, running his fingers through it. His smile falters, and he sifts through the strands again. “I have this memory from when I first moved here—”

The server brings our drinks and desserts over, interrupting him. My heart stays firmly lodged in my throat, though.

Lance’s sundae is ridiculously huge, and as advertised, it’s covered in gummy bears and some sort of white topping.

“What’s on that?”

“Marshmallow fluff.” Lance digs in, twirling his spoon as it gathers ice cream, fluff, and gummy bears. He shoves the massive spoonful in and makes a contented food-love sound.

“Is it good, then?” I ask.

He makes hand gestures, but he can’t actually respond for the moment. It takes a long time before he’s finished chewing enough to use words.

“The gummy bears are so cold and hard. It’s magically delicious.” He puts on an overdone, fake Irish accent for the last part. “You need to try this.”

He shoves the spoon in and drags it through the ice cream, holding it out to me. It’s heaping. I don’t even think I can open my mouth that wide.

“That’s too much.”

He frowns and looks at the spoon, then sticks it in his mouth, removing about half the contents before he holds it back out to me. “How’s this?”

I make a face. “It’s got your spit all over it now.”

“So? You’ve already had my spit in your mouth. What’s the big deal?”

“Lance!” I look around to see if anyone has overheard, but no one’s paying attention to us.

“It’s true. But fine, I’ll try again.” He flips the spoon over and keeps his eyes on mine while he licks off the contents. When he’s done, he flips it back over, licking the other side clean. He’s incredibly thorough. I have lots of thoughts about how talented he must be with that tongue. And now that he’s not my client, I allow my imagination to run.

Holding the spoon up, he asks, “Is this okay? Or do you need me to get a clean spoon that hasn’t been in my mouth at all?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine.”

This time he dips the spoon in, carefully gathering a small amount of ice cream, marshmallow fluff, and a single gummy bear coated in strawberry sauce. He holds out the spoon. “How’s this, precious? Can you handle it?”

I give him a look, but open my mouth. His lips part right along with mine, his tongue peeking out as he watches the spoon disappear between mine.

This feels very much like foreplay.

It also tastes like a sugar bomb has gone off in my mouth. It’s so sweet it’s almost pucker worthy. Lance withdraws the spoon slowly, his eyes on my mouth the entire time, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. When he notices the spoon is by no means clean, he offers it to me again.

I still have a gummy bear in here, so I shake my head.

“You don’t like it?”

I chew a few times before I swallow. He wasn’t kidding about them being hard. They’re practically frozen. I put my hand in front of my mouth. “It’s a little sweet.”