The air shifted.
He reached for another screw at the same moment she adjusted her grip on the door. Their hands brushed, warm skin against warm skin.
They both froze.
The moment stretched. Quiet. Breathless. Charged.
She shouldn’t feel this. Not after the way she’d left him standing on that curb.
Avery’s pulse fluttered. Noah’s jaw tightened. Neither of them moved.
And then she remembered:
Sweet Treats, after closing.The air warm with cinnamon and sugar. The lights low. The world small and safe.
She wiped down the last table while Noah stacked chairs, the warm scent of cinnamon lingering in the air. The lights were dim, the world outside quiet.
She turned… and nearly collided with him.
He caught her waist without thinking. She grabbed his forearm to steady herself.
They froze.
His hand was warm. Her heart pressed hard against her ribs. His eyes dropped to her mouth, just for a second, but enough to make her heart stutter.
“Noah…” she whispered.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
She didn’t know what she was going to say. She didn’t know what she wanted. She only knew she wanted him close.
He leaned in, slow and hesitant, like he was giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
Their noses brushed. Her lips parted. His breath mingled with hers.
And then Aunt Clara called from the back room, “Kids, lights off when you’re done!”
They jumped apart like they’d been burned.
Avery blinked, breath catching as the memory washed over her.
Noah’s eyes widened, like he was remembering the same moment.
Their hands were still touching.
Too warm. Too familiar. Too much.
She’d walked away from the boy who almost kissed her — and being this close to the man he’d grown into made that choice ache in a way she hadn’t expected.
He pulled back too quickly, like the contact shocked him, clearing his throat. “Oven’s fixed.”
“Right,” she whispered. “Okay.”
He wiped his hands on his jeans. “You should try again.”
“With what confidence?”
