Some girls buy a new dress for a date. Others will get new shoes … or a hair cut … or a mani-pedi … or all of the above.

However, I’m not one of those girls. Shocking, I know. I fall into the category of “Let’s bake cookies in a prom dress” or “I make no excuses for greeting men at the door with chocolate painted on my forearms.”

So it should be no surprise – even with my hesitation that this whole Harrison thing was a date – that I headed into the kitchen to get ready for our dinner.

Cookies?

Cupcakes?

Pie?

I wandered around the kitchen, my finger tips trailing along the edge of the counters, trying to decide what Harrison would like best … and figure out what treats he might have tried from Monday’s delivery. I lingered over my books from pastry school and stared at the items in the pantry, seeking any inspiration.

And then I saw it. A book my gran had received as a wedding gift in the days of World War II and rationing. I flipped through, pausing at a recipe here and a recipe there, until I came across the Date Bars. Quick, simple and completely cheesy – at least according to April, who rolled her eyes when I sent her to the store for the star ingredient.

Thankfully, she loves me and returned with the dates – and an iced coffee. It was a coffee I definitely needed, too, as those date bars tried my patience. I know I said they were simple – and they were – but they just didn’t look like they’d come together.

Sort of like Harrison and me.