That’s how fast I scramble off my bed, definitely spilling at least five different things on my bed, on my way to sprinting down the stairs.
Torin, a step behind me, half-laughing and half-alarmed, loops his arm around my middle and sets me back on my feet before I can break my neck.
“Careful, beautiful.” He drops a kiss on the side of my neck, and I nearly forget what’s waiting for me downstairs. “Left,” he says with a huskiness in his voice that makes me wonder if he knows exactly what that neck kiss just did to my insides.
He lets me go, and I continue down the stairs, turn left, and five steps later, skid to a stop in the kitchen of my dreams.
I don’t know why the designer of this kitchen thought a person needed three ovens, but I could kiss the guy. Or girl. I can bake a cake, cookies, and brownies at the same time without having to adjust temperatures or move cookie trays even once.
Laughing, I hop up and down between speaking literal gibberish as I fling myself at Callum, Archer, and Torin, then bounce back to the kitchen of my dreams.
“My god, the proofing cupboard is big enough to live inside,” I breathe.
Archer laughs. “Please do not live in the proofing cupboard. Here.”
I twist around in time to catch the white apron he tosses me. “An apron?”
“Where do you want us?” Torin asks.
Which is when I notice they all have aprons they put on while I was losing my mind over this insane kitchen.
“You want tobake?” I ask, eyes widening. “With me?”
Callum’s smile fades as he takes the apron from me to slip it over my head and drops a kiss on my lips. “This is a do-over. What I did… knocking over the cake you made us that first morning will haunt me for the rest of my life. I’m not worthy of your love yet, Juniper, but one day, I will be.”
I hug him hard, squealing when he wraps his arms around me and lifts me slightly off the ground. “Idiot. Do you think I’dhave come back if I didn’t love you? Any of you? And it’s June." I poke him in the gut when he sets me back down on my feet, and, smiling, he leans around me to tie my apron for me.
“So, you still want to go on that walk?” Torin asks with a teasing smile. Nudging Callum out of the way, he lifts me by my hips and seats me on the counter. The look on his face tells me he knows exactly how I feel about walks.
Sliding my arms around his shoulders, I lean in close to give him a lingering kiss on his neck that draws a rumbling groan from deep in his chest. “I would have been bored out of my ever-loving mind,” I say, making everyone laugh.
I pull back to meet Torin’s amused, heated gaze, and I realize I’ve never seen him this happy or relaxed before. I like this look on him. “Then I’d like to go see Lottie at the hospital. Maybe we could take her something we bake, and my sister. And…”
“And…” Archer says.
“Whatever makesyouhappy,” I say, twisting to face him. “I don’t want today to be just about me. It’s aboutus.”
Callum scratches his stubbled jaw, his expression thoughtful. “We spent more years trying to get out from under our parents’ thumb than thinking about what made us happy. I was a quarterback at school, and I miss just throwing a ball around.”
“So we’ll throw a ball in the backyard,” I declare, then wrinkle my nose when I remember what happened the last time I tried to catch something. “River nearly died laughing once when she tossed me mascara, and I just stood there with my arms up while it sailed right past me.”
Archer is laughing as he finishes pulling brand new baking equipment from the cupboard. The trays and cake tins are top-quality from France.
“I’ll have to buy another camera to capture that hilarious moment if it happens again,” Torin says, leaning on the counter beside me as Archer draws me into a deep hug that makes meforget all about baking and instead want to find a couch to snuggle.
When a strange silence fills the kitchen, and Archer stops running his hand up and down my back, I glance at Archer and then at Callum. Both are staring at Torin, eyes wide with surprise. Clearly, I missed something important.
“What is it?” I ask them.
A smile softens Archer’s face. “He used to take photographs.”
“Why’d you stop?” I ask Torin.
“My mom broke all my cameras,” Torin admits. “It was easier to pretend I wasn’t interested in photography anymore than risk her breaking more if I replaced them.”
When I thought one of them had destroyed the book that I’d left in their library, Callum warned me that Torin had his own childhood horror stories. I feel terrible that I bumbled into one of them, and a painful one from the look in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I say, squeezing his hand.
