"That's not fair," she murmured. "You can't just say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because," She turned back to him, and her eyes were doing that thing again, the soft, slightly overwhelmed thing that made his chest tighten in ways he wasn't fully comfortable with. "Because it makes me forget what I was talking about."
"You were telling me about dipping sauces."
"Oh yes, I was telling you about dipping sauces," she repeated, laughing despite herself. "Three kinds. Honey mustard, garlic aioli, and a spicy one I made from scratch."
"You made a dipping sauce from scratch?"
"Don't judge me."
"I'm not judging. I'm impressed. I didn't even know dipping sauces could be made from scratch."
"You've been living a very deprived life, Stan Harrison."
"Clearly. Thank god you're here to fix that." Stan was really smooth with his words, even though his heart was as hard as stone.
