“It shows.” She turns, expression soft. “You built something real.”
The words hit harder than they should. I pour her a glass of mulled wine and hand it to her.
“You did, too. I looked you up before you came—your videos, your recipes. You’re good.”
She blinks, surprised. “You looked me up?”
“Professional curiosity.”
“Sure,” she takes a sip. “Curiosity.”
I grin despite myself. “Okay, maybe a little personal interest.”
“Good. I’d hate to think I was the only one losing focus.”
The room feels smaller suddenly. The air thicker. She sets her glass down, tracing the rim with one finger.
“So,” she says softly. “What happens now?”
“I guess you collect your favor.”
She steps closer, slow enough to make my pulse stutter. “I haven’t decided what I want yet.”
“I could make suggestions,” I murmur.
Her smile is pure challenge. “I bet you could.”
There’s a beat—a shared breath, the kind that decides what happens next.
Then we both move.
The kiss isn’t careful this time. It’s hungry and inevitable, all the unspoken tension finally breaking loose. She tastes like cider and caramel, her hands curling into my shirt as if she’s trying to anchor herself.
When we finally part, she’s still smiling. “Guess we both win.”
“Guess we do.”
SIX
KATELYN
The mulled wine is half gone and I’m laughing so hard, I’m snorting.
We’re sitting side by side on Chase’s worn-in couch, a mismatched blanket across our knees, the pot between us on the coffee table because we got tired of getting up and going to the stove.
“Okay,” I say, wiping at my eyes. “You have to stop making me laugh or I’m going to choke.”
He grins, that slow, self-satisfied smile that’s half menace and half charm.
“You started it. You said my first cooking job sounded fake.”
“It does,” I say, still giggling. “Then again, who else’s résumé starts withU.S. Army—food service specialist?”
“It’s better than your line about getting your degree from YouTube University.”
I nudge his shoulder. “Hey, I earned that diploma. And you have to admit, my pastries could pass any exam.”
He tilts his glass toward me. “No argument there.”
