Still, there was something different about him tonight. The edges of flirtation were still there but softer. Gentled.Realin a way that was far more dangerous than smirks and swagger.
Ack! Bring back the flirt!
“Much better,” he murmured, finishing the cookie in two sinful bites. “You are an excellent baker.”
“Thanks.” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms,needing something to do with them before they betrayed her and started fanning her flushed face. “I do love it. There’s something raw and wonderful about taking a mess of ingredients and turning them into something people enjoy, isn’t there?”
“Absolutely.” His expression became more thoughtful. “I’ve always found it... settling.”
Settling! That was how he seemed at this very moment. Settled.
A Finn Dashwood to draw out more from her than a verbal fight. “Right? Like the creativity fuels not only more creativity but a... comfort and connection. As if...”
She faltered, giving her head a shake. Silly.
But he leaned forward, chin dipped. “As if?”
She waved it off. “As if we weremadeto create.”
He crossed his own arms and studied her until her cheeks heated to frying status, but she didn’t want to look away. In that moment, she glimpsed a kindred spirit and she didn’t quite know what to do with the dichotomy of Mr. Hotface and Mr. Baker Bestie.
“Exactly,” he whispered.
The word settled between them and for one ridiculous second, she felt seen by him in a way she hadn’t felt seen in a very long time. And the accompanying warmth tremored through her to squeeze at her heart.
“Have you always wanted to be a chef?” She nudged another cookie in his direction across the counter between them.
“Most of my life. Got it from my gran.”
That caught her off guard. “Great food and an awesome granny?” She raised her cookie in a mock toast. “A potent combination.”
He chuckled—a real one. “She was a force of nature.”
“The best grans are, I think.” Daphne grinned. “Mine could silence a room with a look and then charm everyone back in the next breath. Slightly terrifying. Utterly iconic.”
“Same.” Then his grin curled, slow and crooked, like she’d answered a question he hadn’t meant to ask out loud.
Daphne quickly busied herself with the tray. Dangerous. He was way too dangerous when he smiled like that. Remember, Daph—he’s transient. Said so himself.
But this Finn—the one who talked about his gran and used words likesettling—had roots. And those roots were looking... good. Not that many things could look bad on him.Sigh.She inwardly groaned. Yet, this simple tête-à-tête looked a little less like rivalry and a little more like... friendship.
He blinked, as if realizing he’d lingered too long in that space—and boom. The flirty persona zipped right back into place.
“Actually,” he said, stepping closer, “my gran would’ve called tonight’s kindness scandalously generous. She’d insist I repay you. Possibly with something chocolate or...”
Did his attention just drop to her lips? From the sudden explosion in her stomach... likely.
She raised a hand to halt his approach, grasping for logic to swoop in and save her from a swoon. “Can you ever have a conversation without turning it into emotional dodgeball?”
He just smiled, that maddening mix of amusement and... hunter.
All her defenses entwined with the scent of vanilla, those caramel eyes, and that utterly unfair accent.
She blamed the accent. Fully.
“It’s what neighbors do, okay? No repayment necessary.”
He paused. Really paused. And something flickered in his eyes again—something not flirty, not snarky. Like he was trying to figure out what made her tick. With a crease of his brow, he stepped back. “It’s late.” He nodded, as if to himself. “I’d best get Lucy back to the apartment.”
