“You still wanna come back to my place?” I ask.
He nods almost immediately. “Yeah.” A sheepish smile spreads across his lips. “I’d really like to cuddle.”
I snort. “With Cryptid?”
That finally pulls a real laugh out of him—soft and careful, like he’s still easing his way back into himself.
“Withbothof you,” he says, knocking his shoulder against mine.
I push myself to my feet and offer him a hand. “That sounds like a solid plan.”
He takes it, letting me pull him up. His legs wobble slightly at first, but he steadies quickly.
“And,” I add as we head toward the back door, grabbing my keys off the counter, “maybe we stop at the store and grab some ice cream on the way home.”
Ashton groans dramatically. “Oh my god. Ice cream sounds amazing right now.”
I chuckle and push open the alley door, cool night air spilling into the brewery.
As we step outside, I bump his shoulder with mine. “Alright, important question.”
He glances at me expectantly.
“What’s your favorite flavor?”
He snorts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Cherry. Duh.”
I laugh, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his temple.
“Of course it is.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Troy
I’mprettysureI’mabout three bites away from death.
I lean back against the stainless-steel prep table, one hand braced on the edge, the other rubbing slow circles over my stomach. “Imani,” I say, dragging out her name, “please, no more. I’m gonna explode.”
She’s been feeding me all afternoon under the guise of “taste testing,” insisting she needs my stamp of approval for every item on her new fall-inspired taproom menu. Everything’s been incredible, but I’m absolutely stuffed.
She stands at the counter with a notebook open, pen tucked behind her ear, carefully shaping something into a small round ball before rolling it through a bowl of crushed graham crackers. She ignores me and plops the little round thing into a paper tray before sliding it across the counter toward me.
“Last one,” she says.
I eye it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Pumpkin cheesecake ball.”
I sigh. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“Eat the food, boss.”
With the resignation of a man accepting his fate, I pop the whole thing into my mouth.
And immediately regret nothing.
It’s creamy and rich and perfectly spiced, the pumpkin warm against the tangy cheesecake filling, the graham cracker crunch hitting right at the end. My eyes flutter shut as I chew, savoring it.
