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He grinned and waved away the compliment. “I’ve done it before. That’s all. Besides, Lena gave me a pretty detailed list and explanation of where to find everything.”

“Seriously, though. You looked like you were a pro at that sort of thing. I feel like a fish out of water in places like that.”

He shrugged. “I felt the same way in your tattoo shop. We all have our strengths.” We were quiet for a few moments before Kieran spoke again. “My first job was at a reception desk for an insurance company, actually.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really?” I didn’t know why but I couldn’t really picture Kieran as an awkward college-aged kid working the desk in an office building. “What happened? I mean, how did you get from the reception desk to interior design?”

He gave me another small smile. “Not a terribly interesting story. We expanded into a new office building and I was tasked with helping the facilities person pick out new furniture and things. It was a lot of fun, seeing the space come to life with choices I’d influenced. After a while, I decided to go to design school and made my way to New York. I met Max there, and like I said, the rest is history.” He was quiet for a beat. “What’s the best part about your job?”

“Making art,” I said without hesitation. “Even if it’s silly little flash designs or something completely unhinged, it’s art. People trust me to put it on their body. It’s wild, sometimes, the trust they put in me. But it’s an honor, too.”

“Is there a worst part?”

I thought about that for a few moments. “Physical stuff. My body hurts a lot of the time after a long session. Plus, at least for now, I’m tied to the shop. I know I set my own schedule but I do have to pull in a certain amount of clientèle to pay my bills. It means I sometimes take on projects I’m less excited about.” I swallowed hard, realizing I’d said a lot more than I’d expected to. “How about you?”

Kieran was quiet for a moment. “Not having as much freedom as I want. I have to work with difficult people sometimes. Project planners. You know, people who control the budget. Sometimes we have different opinions on what’s worth spending money on.”

He sounded bitter and I sensed there was a story behind his words, but I didn’t want to pry. Weirdly, I ached to reach out and take his hand, squeeze it and let him know it would be okay.

Instead, I kept my hands on the steering wheel and nodded. “I get the budget thing. Obviously.”

It didn’t take us long to get back to the house and as soon as we got Lena’s things in, Kieran went to her room and helped her set up her makeshift office. From the living room, I could hear her grumble that she didn’t need to be treated like she couldn’t function on her own, but eventually Kieran must have worn her down because she quieted, and a few minutes later, she thanked him.

“Okay,” Kieran said as he came into the living room again. “I guess this means it’s time to bake.”

“Bake?”

“I promised I’d get her orders done. Now that she’s all settled, I think I’m ready to give it a go.”

I rolled my eyes and stood.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Either you’re going to need help, or you’re going to get to have an audience. Either way, you’re stuck with me.” My words made my stomach somersault for reasons beyond me. I followed Kieran into the kitchen.

“Hey, I can manage a cake or two.”

I grinned. “I can’t wait to see you try.”

Chapter Nine

Kieran

“Well, then, let’s get to it,” I said, clapping my hands and rubbing my palms together. Ellis followed me to the kitchen, where I’d asked Lena to leave a list of her orders and the recipes for them. I glanced at the list. “First up, a double batch of gochujang cookie bars. This looks easy enough.”

He smirked, taking a seat on a barstool next to the island, arms crossed. “Good luck, then.”

Heat flared in my stomach at that, though I wasn’t quite sure why. I kept my gaze fixed on the ingredients list until I could push past the feeling and gather the supplies I needed, shoving my sleeves up past my elbows. First up: flour, butter, eggs, sugar. The list was longer than I expected. How many ingredients went into cookies anyway? And what the hell was a cookie bar? I guessed I’d find out. After getting the dry ingredients from Lena’s pantry, I read step one of the instructions. Preheat the oven. That much I could do. I took a deep, reassuring breath. So far, so good.

I pulled out the next few items from the refrigerator—eggs, butter, vanilla, a few other things—before moving on to measuring out the dry ingredients and setting them aside in bowls, the way I’d seen it done on cooking shows. I scooped flour from the bag and unceremoniously dumped it into the bowl, only to be greeted by a puff of flour that rose into the air.

I coughed and waved away the little cloud, ignoring the chuckle that came from Ellis’s direction, before continuing on with the task at hand. Granulated sugar was next, followed by brown sugar and baking soda. I made my way back to the island to read the next step.

“Cream the butter and sugars together?” I glanced at Ellis, wondering if he had any guidance.

Ellis raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Don’t ask me.”

I was already getting a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped, but I’d spoken a big game and now I needed to put my money where my mouth was. This would be fine. Totally fine.