I groan loudly, covering my face. “Evie, please. Nothing happened.”
Hayes’s hand disappears from my back, just for a second—but I feel the absence like a cold draft in winter. Then, just as quickly, he rests it on the counter, the tiniest bit closer to me than necessary
He isn’t contradicting me.
He isn’t agreeing either.
He’s letting me lead.
It sends a strange, warm ache right beneath my ribs.
Evie’s about to pick apart the air between us again when Hayes clears his throat. “We actually did get work done,” he says. “Em’s already halfway through the cinnamon swirls, and the cookies for the kindergarteners are cooling.”
Evie blinks. “Wait. You baked for children? Like, unsupervised?”
Hayes smirks. “Em supervised.”
“I literally did not,” I admit. “You snuck maple in the recipe!”
Evie gasps at me. “So this man—this firefighter—has been allowed to perform unsupervised culinary activities withfamilyrecipes?”
I spread my hands helplessly. “He’s very… competent.”
Hayes raises an eyebrow at that, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Competent?”
Evie wiggles again. “Oh, I bet he is.”
Gideon shakes his head with a groan. “Evie, please.”
I shove a few dirty cookie trays at her. “Wash these.”
She just beams triumphantly at me. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m overheating from the oven.”
“The oven. Riiiiight,” she says smugly.
I turn to Hayes for help. He looks right at me—knowing and patient—and the blush gets worse.
He doesn’t say a word.
But I know what he’s thinking when he licks his lips.
He’s thinking about our kiss, too.
And worse?
I know he’s waiting to see what I’ll do about it.
“Since I stole Evie away from you, and we’re back here now,” Gideon speaks up. “What do you have left thatwecan help with?”
“You want to help?” Evie and I both ask at the same time.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary,” Evie adds.
“Acutally. I bet Hayes could show you how to make more cookie dough. I can freeze it and it’ll save some time when I’m ready to work on those cookies for the town bonfire.”
Gideon perks up like someone handed him a dog leash or asked about his favorite tackle. “Cookie dough? I can handle cookie dough.”
