Rachel strolled into her favorite dessert shop on the corner, Insomnia Cookies, and went straight to the mobile order pick-up rack to take her array of treats back to her apartment.

Four chocolate chunks, four sugar, and four peanut-butter chip is what she always ordered.

The rack arranged orders alphabetically by first name, so Rachel squatted to the N - T section. She saw her box waiting, begging her to wolf down its tasty contents.

Except, someone else reached for her box, too.

She snatched it away before the other individual could, maybe a bit more aggressive than she intended. "I'm sorry, but this is mine."

Rachel looked up at the figure, and saw a man standing there. Tan skin, black hair, warm brown eyes. The warmth did not reach his expression, though. He was pissed.

"Are you sure? What did you order?" He asked accusatorially. "Was it - "

"Four chocolate chunks, four sugar, and four peanut-butter chip," they said at the same time, blinking at each other in bewilderment.

He gave a hearty chuckle. "Okay, so we did order the same thing. But is that your name written on the box? It starts with a letter between N and T?"

"You think I don't know my own name? Or the alphabet? It's Rachel," she responded with a little bit of a bite. She wondered if he thought her stupid because of her blonde hair or the sweats she was wearing. 

The next episode of Too Hot to Handle awaited her on the television at home. And a big glass of wine. Rachel was getting impatient with his man who wanted to steal her cookies.

"That's interesting." He stroked a hand on the stubble along his jaw. "I'm Rafael. Take a look at the box, just in case."

Rachel did so, and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. She cursed when she saw his name, written on the top. At a quick glance, she thought it was her own.

Rafael looked triumphant as she handed it over. "Thank you very much." He nestled the box in the crook of his arm and leaned over to the mobile pick-up order rack again, scanning the orders for one that belonged to Rachel.

"I believe this one is yours," he crooned as he thrust the box into her arms. Rachel bit her lip, wholly embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry. Truly," she said with a sigh. Internally, she was roiling with anger at the fact she was wrong. Something about Rafael made her . . .

"Want to make it up to me?" He asked, smirking. An inviting challenge in his eyes that Rachel found dangerously enticing. 

Rachel had an idea. A test that this man would need to pass in order for this challenge to be accepted.

"How do you feel about Too Hot to Handle?" 

"Oh, entertainment gold."

Rachel chuckled. "What about wine?"

"The nectar of the gods, no? Quite a sexy beverage," he replied, emphasis on the word sexy. 

Rachel blushed. This man was suave.

"Anything else?" He persisted.

"Nope. Let's go watch and drink just that at my place."