Switched: Flirt New Adult Romance by Cassie Mae

super delectable in my dad’s apron—even though it says “Kiss the Chef” right over his crotch. I swiped flour on his cheeks earlier, and he still has some under his left eye. Never in my life have I wanted so much to lick flour.
    “I think I’m doing this wrong,” he says, taking me out of my drool show. His pizza dough looks lopsided and super thin in the middle. It’ll last about two seconds in the oven before a hole gets burned right through it.
    “Here, let me help.” I reach over, brushing his arm with mine, and sparks shoot everywhere.
I
may burn the dough before it even touches the oven.
    He watches me with mild amusement as I make a show of twirling the dough into a pizza circle. It took me three years to master the art. Even with Talon watching, I rock it, shaky hands and all.
    I slap the dough on the flour-covered counter, spraying him with more white powder. He closes his eyes, purses his mouth, and holds his breath as he’s showered.
    “Whoops. Sorry about that.” I giggle.
    He shakes his hair, making white dust fly everywhere. “Sure you are.” His eyes pop open and I ready myself for a flour fight to go with our snow fight, but he gives me this wide grin instead. “Yeah, you’re much better at this than I am.”
    I’m somewhere on cloud nine hundred. “Thanks. Took lots of practice.”
    “I’m impressed.” He pokes the edge of the crust, and I smack his hand playfully. “Do you think you’ll be a chef like your dad?”
    “Oh no. I’m not that good.”
    “Then what do you want to do?”
    Out of all the people in my life, I can’t believe he’s the first person to ask me this. I don’t even have a major. When Grace first asked me what it was, I blanked out and went, “Uh …” She just laughed but never pressed it.
    “Um, I don’t really know,” I answer, busying myself with the sauce, swirling it around on the dough. “After my generals are done, I think I may try counseling or something. Not like a school counselor, but like a therapist.” It’s pretty much the only thing that’s sounded slightly interesting.
    “That’s cool.” He leans his butt against the counter, crossing his arms and watching mesmooth the sauce with the back of the spoon. “I think you’d be really good at that, Kayla.”
    I drop the spoon, covering the handle in sauce. “Uh … really?”
    “Yeah. You’re a good listener.”
    Where am I? Somewhere in heaven, I think. Talon thinks I’m a good listener? “Wow, thanks.” My smile won’t disappear as I hand him the cheese grater. “I never really thought seriously about it, but I remember when my mom went through her treatments and stuff, and my dad had us go to family counseling to cope. I really liked our therapist. She helped out a ton.”
    His grin kind of flickers, like he’s not sure how to respond. I mentally smack my forehead because I know talking about Mom’s chemo makes people uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to bring it up. It just came out.
    “So, are you going to play football your whole life?” I ask, lobbing the subject wildly back at him, along with the brick of cheese I pull from the fridge.
    He catches the cheese like Superman, one-handed and kind of behind his back. Damn, so hot! I sigh.
    “I hope to, but you know the chances of that happening are pretty small. And even if I do make it to the NFL, one injury can end my career like that.” He snaps his fingers, then goes back to grating cheese. “So I have a few backup plans.”
    “Like what?”
    “Teaching. Or I guess more like coaching. I wouldn’t mind barking orders from the sidelines at greenies. And also watching them achieve their dreams. Helping them do that, you know?”
    Can I marry him? Well, not yet. But when Reagan has happily moved on to Wesley and they’re touring the country or something like that, all famous on account of how amazing their voices are, he’ll be some hot football coach getting Gatorade dumped all over him after winning a