Tyler studies the sugar cookies laid out on the counter. “These look way too perfect to mess up.”
“You can’t mess them up. That’s the beauty of it.” I grin, setting out several piping bags filled with colored icing. “Worst case scenario, you eat the evidence.”
“I like this plan,” he says, already reaching for a cookie.
“Not yet.” I swat his hand away. “First, I show you the technique, then you practice.Thenyou can eat any mistakes.”
I pick up a piping bag filled with blue frosting, squeezing it a little. “The key is consistent pressure and steady movement. Watch.”
For the next thirty minutes, I guide them, correcting Tyler’s technique when his icing gets too runny and showing Cameron how to smooth out air bubbles with a scribe tool. They’re quick learners, and forty-five minutes later, we’ve created an array of cookies that I would never in a million years sell to a paying customer but are great for first-time cookie decorators.
The timer goes off, signaling that the cinnamon rolls are done, so I scurry across the kitchen. They’re golden and puffy and perfect, the smell of cinnamon and butter filling the entire space. I drizzle cream cheese frosting over them while they’re still warm.
Tyler inhales deeply, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh my God.”
“Fuck, those smell good,” Cameron agrees from where he’s rinsing his hands at the sink.
The three of us eat the fruits of our labor while Tyler tells us about his sister’s upcoming nuptials. They’re having a small friends-and-family-only ceremony, followed by a reception that will be attended by the who’s who in the sporting world. Irecognize none of the names Tyler shares, but Cameron seems thoroughly impressed by the guest list.
“Blake wanted to elope, but Ella’s always wanted a classic wedding, so classic wedding it is.”
Cameron’s mouth kicks up on one side. “So your sister wears the pants in their relationship.”
Brows raised, Tyler looks from me to Cameron and then back again. “Yeah… and I hate to be the one to break it to you, Davies, but Kennedy wears the pants in yours, too.”
I swallow back a giggle, desperately trying to keep my expression neutral. “Yep. You’re totally pants-less. With your bare ass out and everything, baby.”
Tyler and I exchange a look and burst out laughing. Cameron, in turn, grumbles under his breath.
The rookie leaves an hour later with a to-go box of cookies and a few leftover cinnamon rolls.
The moment the door shuts behind him, I turn to face Cameron, bouncing on my toes. “Did you hear his comment?”
“About you wearing the pants in our relationship?”
“No, the one about how cinnamon rolls are Sloane’s favorite sweet treat.”
He frowns. “What? No.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, ponytail bouncing. “Andhe’sthe one who asked if we could make them, so…”
“No way.” My fake boyfriend’s brows bunch together as he pieces together the puzzle. “There’s absolutely no way they’re sleeping together.”
“They may not be sleeping together, but he certainly wants to be.” I shrug and hop onto the table, licking leftover icing from my finger.
“Sloane would never get involved with anyone on the team.” He shakes his head sharply. “Especially one almost ten years younger than her.”
“Maybe, but he had the cutest little smile on his face when he said that.”
He rests a hand on either side of me, caging me in. “Cute smile? Really?”
I shake my head. I could have stated a fact like “Tyler has hazel eyes,” and Cameron would raise issue with it. “Get over yourself. He’s in love with Sloane.”
“No, he’s not.”
“I think he is, and you can’t change my mind.” Grinning, I rest my forehead against his. “Did his comment about me wearing the pants actually bother you?”
“Fuck no.” Cameron glares as if offended that I even had to ask. “But now that he’s gone, I’m taking yours off.”
