Stephen blocked her path. Just as when they danced, his eyes stayed fixated on her hairline and then her lips. To create space, Lexi pressed her hands against his chest and wrapped the top of the apron strings around his neck. “Turn around and I’ll tie you.”

      “You’ll tie me up?”

      Laughter of relief broke the strange tension between them. “In your dreams. Now here, I’ll need you to continue stirring the grits while I cook the shrimp.”

      Thankfully Stephen did as she asked, stopping every so often when she needed to add some cream, tomato paste, spices and lots of butter into the grits while her shrimp sautéed. They cooked together in silence but rhythmically, reminding her of how they danced together. On the dance floor he took the lead, but in her kitchen she did. He stepped out of the way when she added something new to his pot and back into the empty space. The spiced shrimp took no time to cook, and in her haste to get out of the kitchen, Lexi reached for the handle of the pan to pour everything into a serving dish behind her. She underestimated the weight of the pan and her wrists weakened. Stephen anticipated her misstep and swooshed right behind her, wrapping her in his arms and his hands over hers.

      “Here, let me help,” he whispered in her ear.