Chapter Seventeen

Before they’d showered—separately, to his great disappointment—Lance ordered enough Chinese food to feed an army. The delivery person had left it on the porch while they’d been dressing, but now, he was spreading the feast out on the dining table.

He hoped like hell he’d managed to get something she liked. Nerves assailed him. He was not used to having to work hard for female attention, but Annalia was so much more than anything he was used to.

He fidgeted with the wrapper on one of the seven egg rolls he’d ordered. Fuck it, he growled and ripped the paper. He did the same to all seven, putting them on a plate.

Shit.

Did that look messy? He was a fucking wreck here, and this was only dinner. How was he going to get through the rest of the evening if feeding her made him shake like a fucking cub?

“Hi,” she said, coming into the room. Her voice soothed the tension that’d built inside of him.