CHAPTER 1
Hannah
Hannah pulledanother tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. Steam curled up, carrying that perfect blend of butter and spice that always reminded her of home. Of everything good and safe in her world.
Including the man who was currently sprawled on his back under her kitchen sink.
"Jake?" She set the tray on the cooling rack, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Please tell me you've figured out what's making that awful noise."
A muffled curse, followed by the clang of metal on metal. "Almost got it, sweetheart. Though I'm starting to think your pipes just like the attention."
Hannah blushed, and didn't so much kick him, as nudge him slightly with her foot in rebuke. He wrapped one large hand around her ankle, and gave it a squeeze.
Early morning calm wrapped around them like a warm blanket, broken only by the gentle whir of industrial mixers and Jake's occasional muttering. This was her favorite time of day—beforeSugar & Spice opened its doors, before the morning rush of regulars seeking their caffeine fix. Just her and Jake and the smell of fresh bread.
And okay, maybe a leaky pipe. But even that felt perfect somehow.
"You know," she said, beginning to pipe cream cheese frosting, "most girlfriends have to beg their boyfriends to do home repairs. I practically have to kick you out of here."
The pipes groaned. Another clang, louder this time.
"That's because most boyfriends don't get paid in fresh pastries." Jake's voice carried a smile she couldn't see. "Or get to watch their girlfriend dance around the kitchen in those shorts."
Heat crept up her neck. Six months together, and he could still make her blush like a teenager. "I do not dance."
"Sweetheart, you've been swaying to that oldies station for the past hour."
She glanced at the radio, currently playing something soft and sweet. Had she been moving to the music? Probably. She often did, especially during these quiet morning hours when it was just her and?—
The pipe gave one final groan before falling silent.
"Ha!" Jake slid out from under the sink, his gray t-shirt pulled tight across his chest, smudged with whatever mysterious gunk lurked beneath her sink. A streak of something greasy marked his jaw, and his dark hair was rumpled in a way that made her fingers itch to touch it.
His body was flushed from exertion, skin warm, the heat of him radiating even from where she stood. His forearms flexed as he wiped his hands on a rag, muscles shifting beneath the fabric of his shirt.
"Told you I'd fix it." His grin was cocky, teasing, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip.
Hannah swallowed hard, watching as he ran a hand through his already-messy hair, leaving streaks of grease at his temple. God, he was a mess. A gorgeous, sweaty, frustrating mess. And he was hers.
"You look entirely too pleased with yourself," she mused, crossing her arms, even as her heart pounded a little harder.
Jake chuckled, tossing the rag onto the counter. "Damn right I am. Saving you from plumbing disasters and looking good while doing it—it's a full-time job."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. Because the truth was, he did look good. Too good. And her fingers still itched to slide into his hair, to pull him close, to kiss away the smudge on his jaw.
Hannah raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. "You said that yesterday. And the day before."
"Third time's the charm." He crossed the kitchen in three long strides. His hands found her waist, warm and solid through her apron. "Don't I deserve a reward for my heroic efforts?"
She tilted her head back, studying him. "Heroic might be stretching it."
"Dedicated?" His thumb traced slow circles against her hip. "Persistent?"
"Stubborn," she decided, but she was already rising onto her toes, already melting into him as his lips found hers. He tasted like the coffee she'd handed him an hour ago, like the cherry Danish he'd stolen when he thought she wasn't looking. Like home and safety and forever.
Jake's grip tightened, just for a moment. Something flickered across his face—there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
"What?" she asked, pulling back just enough to see his eyes.
