“You hungry?” he asked, brushing his thumb gently over her gloved knuckles.
“I’m starving,” she said, smiling up at him.
Real-life Liam was a lot like fantasy Liam, and he wanted to take her home. Liam could do a lot of things—he could woodwork like a master, grow the biggest pumpkin you’ve ever seen, and make a baby stop crying in five seconds flat—but cooking wasn’t one of them. His go-to was eggs, toast, and a black coffee. If he wanted to get fancy, he could swing pancakes.
He offered her both options.
“Ooh, pancakes,” she said with a grin as they climbed into his truck. “But only if there’s maple syrup. And bacon. Or sausage. Or both.”
Back in town, they stopped by the grocery store. They grabbed a carton of eggs, a box of pancake mix, bacon, and a bottle of the good syrup from the local maple farm. She added blueberries and whipped cream, saying they needed something sweet “to balance all that farm-boy protein.” He tossed in fresh orange juice and a bag of coffee beans. She added holiday blend tea. It was easy. Domestic. It felt like they’d done it a dozen times before.
“What?” Cassidy asked, catching him looking at her. She glanced down at her outfit, puzzled. “Do I have pine sap on me still?”
He smiled. “No. Just… I was thinking about how unexpected this morning has been.”
She grinned. “You could say that again. I was just trying to go ice skating.”
“Oh yeah? How’d that work out for you?”
She leaned in, dropping her voice so only he could hear, a playful spark in her gaze. “Best morning ever.”
Liam’s smile lingered, but inside, he was watching her closely, looking for any flicker of doubt in her eyes. Making sure she didn’t regret what they’d shared. Making sure he hadn’t pushed her into something she wasn’t ready for just because the pull between them was too strong to ignore.
He knew about her vow, and he understood why she’d made it. From everything she’d hinted about her ex, the guy sounded like a real piece of work. Liam could understand needing space, needing to find your own footing before letting someone else in.
He didn’t want to be another guy who took more than he gave.
Liam pulled into his driveway. He lived in a small, two-bedroom house on the outskirts of town, not far from his family’s farm. The house had had solid bones when he’d bought it three years ago. “Charming, cozy bungalow” had been the real estate description. It had conveniently left out the popcorn ceilings and a family of raccoons living in the attic.
Zoe had helped rehome the raccoons, and Zach had helped with renovating the rest.
Liam tried not to watch Cassidy too closely as she took in the space—worn leather furniture, a woven rug he’d picked up at a market last fall, the empty dog bed still sitting in the corner like it was waiting for Chance to come back.
She didn’t say anything about the lack of Christmas decorations.
But he could feel her noticing.
Her gaze lingered just a moment too long on the bare mantel. The undecorated windows. The stretch of wall where a tree might go, if he’d put one up.
He waited for the question. For her to ask why his house looked like December hadn’t even arrived.
But she just smiled a little, soft and understanding, and carried the bags into the kitchen like she hadn’t seen a thing.
He was sure then that she knew about Avery. Or, at least, she suspected. And she gave him the space anyway, to tell her in his own time. No pressure. No digging.
Liam swallowed hard and busied himself with unpacking the eggs.
“You want me to do pancakes or bacon?” she asked, pulling her hair into a loose bun.
“You do pancakes. I’ll tackle the bacon.”
She got to work with the confidence of someone who knew her way around a stove, humming quietly as she whisked. He brewed coffee and set the bacon sizzling. It was warm in the kitchen, the windows fogging slightly from the steam, the smell of maple and sugar filling the air.
After the pancakes were done and the bacon perfectly crisp, they sat at his tiny kitchen table, knees brushing, sharing bites and pouring too much syrup.
Midway through breakfast, the conversation shifted.
“So… tell me more about Paris. Do you miss it? Your friends?”
