“I should shower.” I gesture at the locker room. “I’ve got dinner plans.” His stare grows more intense—or am I just imagining things because I’m getting tenser and tenser the longer we talk? A small muscle in his jaw ticks before he finally says, “A date?” “Yes. Most definitely,” I say quickly. “Today is Mexican Monday with the girls.” A smile quirks his lips. “I thought that was supposed to be Taco Tuesday.”
