"Nothing." I tried to school my expression into something less obviously delighted. "Just happy."
"Why?" He crossed his arms over his chest and took a step back, obviously protecting himself from whatever judgment he thought was coming.
Because I wanted to pull him into my arms, and I was fairly sure he’d let me. Nothing could have made me more happy. But I couldn't tell him that. Not yet. Not when he was clearly embarrassed and trying to keep that part of himself hidden.
"Just thinking about where to take you for dinner." I waved my arm forward to go back inside the building. "You have any cravings or allergies?"
Allen relaxed slightly and took a step toward the door. "Nope, I'm pretty easy."
I bet you are, sweetheart.
"How about tomorrow night? I can pick you up at seven." I had a lot of baking to do over the next twenty-four hours, and then I could focus on that boy for the weekend.
"That works." Allen pulled out his phone again and his fingers flew over the screen. "Here’s my address."
My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I saved the unknown number with a heart emoji next to his name.
Allen glanced at my screen and his eyes went soft. "A heart?"
"Too much?" I made a face, hoping he’d find me endearing and not overbearing. “I can change it to a rubber duckie.”
"Either is fine." He smiled sweetly and swallowed hard. "Respond back and I’ll add a cookie next to your name."
We stood there for another moment, neither of us seeming to want to move. Finally, Allen cleared his throat. "I should probably go pick up that milk before they sell it to someone else."
"After you." I held the door open for him to walk through.
Allen paused at the threshold between the stairs to my apartment and the door to my bakery. "Thanks for being so nice about the delivery mix-up. And for..." He bit his lip as he looked at mine. "For asking me out."
"Thanks for saying yes." I reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, letting my fingers linger against his cheek. “Now, let’s go get your milk.”
5
ALLEN
“What?” I stood there for a moment before following him up the narrow staircase to the second floor. The building was old with wood floors that creaked under our feet. At the top of the stairs, there was a single door with a small brass number plate. “You don’t have to come with me.”
Patrick ignored me and then pulled out a key from his pocket. Before I could process what I was witnessing, he stuck it into the lock and opened it up. “Please, come in.”
I stopped short, and my stomach twisted and turned as understanding dawned on me. "You're the milk man?"
He raised his palms in surrender with a soft smile. "Guilty as charged."
Oh no. No, no, no.
Patrick produced milk. The milk I was about to pick up. The milk Jeff had ordered for me. The milk I loved more than just about anything else in the world…
"Gimme just a second.” Patrick waited for me to go inside before following me in. “The milk's in the fridge."
I hesitated just inside the threshold with my heart racing. Going fully into his apartment felt too intimate, even after what we did in the bar.
Milk was different. It wasn’t dirty sex in a club. It was warm cuddles and happy thoughts. How could Patrick represent both?
He was watching me with patient and understanding eyes, so I found myself lowering my guard just a bit.
The apartment was cozy, with a small kitchen that opened into the living room. Everything was neat but lived-in, like Patrick actually used this space instead of just existing in it.
My hands felt sticky from handling the honey bottles all morning, so I glanced at the kitchen sink. "Can I wash my hands real quick?"
