I arch a brow. “Rooms? Are you trying to escape me already? Should I be offended?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “No. I just didn’t want to assume or crowd you.”
“You’re not crowding me. I want to be right here. With you.”
Her smile widens. “Me too.”
She brushes a loose lock from my forehead. Her voice drops, teasing and intimate.
“You know, you’re not just a sexy baker man with a tragic past. You’re actually kind of fun.”
I chuckle. “Kind of?”
“Kind of.” She smirks. “Maybe more. Definitely kind of.”
The air shifts—lighter now, warm, the past fading until it’s just us and the hum of the room.
I close the tiny gap between us, and my mouth skims her lips.
Heat sparks low and fast. Her hands move to my chest, and I lean, deepening it. The kiss intensifies until we’re breathless.
She licks her lips. “If you keep kissing me like that, I might forget I’m bad at baking and croquet.”
“Until you burn rice.”
She laughs and playfully slaps me. “Rude.”
“We could practice until you’re perfect at all three.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Have you seen me bake?”
I laugh. “Fair. Two out of three ain’t bad.” I lean in, brushing my mouth near her ear. “How about we focus on not letting you wreck the fake grass?”
She snorts, easing away and grabbing her mallet. “Careful. I’m good at this game.”
“Uh-huh,” I say. “Then I guess I’d better step in before there’s property damage.”
I circle behind her as she lines up her shot. “And for the record, I’m excellent at distracting my opponent.”
She laughs. “You’re supposed to help me, remember?”
“Alright.” I step back, surprised by how easy my chest feels now. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She lines up her shot.
“Nice form.” I cross my arms, watching the way she squares her shoulders and bites her lip in concentration.
We trade shots and playful jabs. Laughter bounces off the walls.
Every brush of her hand, every grin, snaps the air tighter between us.
“Best two out of three?” She props her palm on the mallet.
I shake my head. “Baby girl, that was two out of three.Three times.”
She plants her hands on her hips in the most adorable way. “I demand a recount.”
“Nope.”
