She grabbed Ethan's hand, ignoring the recoil and led him straight to the couch.
He settled let her guide him, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he sank into the cushions, stretching his legs out comfortably.
The place was small but cozy — warm lighting, a few personal touches scattered around to show it was her that owned the place and the faint scent of vanilla in the air.
It suited her.
Riley stood before him, hands on her hips, looking determined.
"You've paid for dinner twice now," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "So tonight, I'm treating you."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Oh? Is that why you're cooking?"
She scoffed. "Absolutely not."
Crossing her arms, she grinned. "I want to make you a home-cooked meal so great it'll be unlike anything you would find in a restaurant."
He leaned back, resting an arm over the couch. "That so? Should I be worried?"
