“I want to make her fall in love with me,” I say without thinking. “Well, you aren’t going to do that with clothes.” I smirk. “I know. I’ll do that after dinner when she rips your carefully chosen outfit off my body.” “Oh my God,” she groans. “But I want to set the stage first. I need to be … irresistible—more than usual.” I wince. “Especially because she doesn’t know she’s meeting me for dinner …” I cringe at the pregnant pause. “Excuse me?” Carys asks, her voice a couple of decibels higher than usual. I understand her shock. When I say it aloud like that, it also sounds like a bad plan to
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