“Let’s make a deal,” I said, pressing my hand to the counter beside him. “If we win this thing, you let me take you on a fancy date. Suit, no apron, the works.”
His smirk softened into something sweeter. “What if we don’t win?”
“Still taking you out. I’m not that dumb,” I told him.
He laughed, and I kissed him. Slow. Lazy. Flour still on our hands, the scent of peaches and pastry hanging in the air like promise.
The timer dinged. We broke apart, reluctantly.
“I think we just invented a winner,” Sean said, breathless.
I grinned. “I think I already did the second I found you.”
He rolled his eyes but stepped closer again. We pulled the pies from the oven, golden and bubbling and perfect.
“You’ve got flour on your nose,” I said, voice low, stepping toward him.
He reached up to wipe it, but I caught his wrist gently. “Let me.”
I brushed my thumb across the tip of his nose. He scrunched it a little, grinning, and I let my fingers linger longer than necessary.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine. They were soft, curious, and way too easy to get lost in.
“Got it,” I murmured, but I didn’t move back.
He didn’t either.
Sean pushed up on his toes, closing the space between us. His lips brushed mine, warm and slow, a quiet kind of kiss that still somehow lit up every nerve in my chest.
I kissed him back, threading my fingers into his hair. He tasted like cinnamon and peaches. I pulled away only when I absolutely had to breathe.
“We’re dangerous in a kitchen,” I said, my voice a little rough.
Sean laughed, but there was heat in his eyes too. “Should we go before we burn the place down?”
“Yeah,” I said, but my hand found his as we turned off the lights and locked up.
We walked the few blocks to his apartment quietly, the easy kind of quiet where you didn’t have to fill the silence.
The air had cooled, the sidewalks mostly empty, and I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones.
But not in a bad way. In the kind of way that said you did something good today.
By the time we stepped inside his apartment, the adrenaline had worn off, replaced by hunger and a bone-deep ache.
“I can throw something together,” Sean offered, toeing off his shoes, but I stopped him with a shake of my head.
“Let’s just order something,” I said, already tugging my phone from my pocket. “You worked your magic enough tonight. Let someone else feed us for once.”
He smiled in that sleepy way that made my heart stutter. “Pizza?”
“Pepperoni and extra cheese?” I asked.
“God, yes.”
We crashed onto his couch twenty minutes later, a half-eaten pizza box between us, some indie movie playing on the TV neither of us was really watching.
Sean was curled up under my arm, head on my shoulder, socked feet tucked under him, blanket barely clinging to his hips.
