Page 88 of Matchmaking On The Menu

I do.

Which is ridiculous. I haven’t felt this way around him before. Not when he was “mystery man,” not when we were talking, not even when things got… a little more intimate.

But now I know his name. And somehow that makes a difference, makes it real.

Teddy.

I say it in my head again, testing it, turning it over like it might feel different the second time. It doesn’t. It just… fits. Like it always belonged there, and I was lagging behind.

I wiped my hands over my cargo pants, trying to shake off the tension sitting just under my skin.

It’s just Teddy. Just a hike. Just a date.

Just a date with a gorgeous mystery man who has so far been my best kiss—and that was over a mask.

Gravel crunches under my shoes as I open the back door and take out my backpack, the sun dipping just low enough to take the edge off the heat. The air carries that dry, earthy scent that always lingers out here. There’s a wooden sign nailed between two posts—something about wildlife and staying on the marked paths—but I barely register it. Because Teddy’s already here, leaning against his Jeep like he’s got nowhere else to be.

And wow! Holy wow.

He’s got his hands in his pockets, sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt, that same slightly effortless, put-together look that should be illegal in small towns where the rest of us are one coffee spill away from chaos. He looks… unfair.

He straightens when he sees me, and a lazy grin spreads across his face. My stomach does a complicated somersault.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I echo, then immediately formulate a headline.

LOCAL WOMAN FORGETS HOW TO GREET ANOTHER HUMAN. BLAMES ATTRACTIVE MAN.

I clear my throat, suddenly very aware of my hands and having no idea what to do with them. “Thanks for coming.”

Nice, Dannica. Fantastic. Really smooth.

He rocks back on his heels, watching me like he’s already clocked everything. “You’re nervous.”

“You’re not supposed to point that out on a date.”

“Don’t you want honesty? Besides, you asked me if I was a fugitive.”

“That was not a date. And that was when you were Mystery Man. The slate is supposed to be clean now.”

“Is there a rule book I can buy or…?”

I’ve moved closer to him without really thinking about it. Close enough that the nerves ease just a fraction.

I shoulder-check him lightly. “So, how much hiking do you do in…” I trail off.

His eyebrows lift. “Smooth. Wouldn’t have even noticed you were sneakily trying to get information out of me.”

“Hush you.”

“I’m not giving you a good review.”

“For my food or for my dating skills?”

“There’s food?”

I pat the backpack on my shoulders. “You didn’t think I’d punish you without food, right?”