I do. I hurry downstairs to the kitchen just for him to hold the door open for me once we get there. Inside, it smells like cinnamon and yeast and some incredibly illegal amount of melted butter.
At the center island: Prince Kellen Hale, standing there exuding strong “off-duty prince” vibes in joggers and an oatmeal-stained tee. He doesn’t see us. He’s hyper-focused on a camera rigged above his workspace as his hands move inpracticed, hypnotic rhythms. Kneading and folding, tucking and then brushing. Elliot stands to his left watching Kellen with mesmerized eyes until he notices us. For a moment, he almost looks jolted by our appearance but any surprise is quickly replaced with affection.
I study all the projects Kellen’s in the middle of working on. Bread, cookies, and even some pastries. “I knew you were great in the kitchen, but this looks incredible.”
Elliot jerks his chin at Kellen, then at the bread. “He’s been at that for hours. Keeps muttering about hydration percentages.”
Kellen, still in a trance, brushes an egg wash over a row of cinnamon rolls and doesn’t look up. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”
“Sleep is rare for me.” I wander over and pluck a stray walnut from the edge of the counter. “What are we making?”
He waves a spatula in the vague direction of the cooling racks. “Kolaches. Three kinds. Also, cinnamon rolls, croissants, and … whatever’s in the oven.”
I look. It’s a tray of pinwheel-looking things that are glittering with coarse sugar. “A little bread therapy?”
“Perpetual bread therapy.” Kellen finally glances up. His blue eyes make my heart skip a beat. Hell, being in the same room with all three of my alphas sends my heart into an endless gyre of warmth and happiness. Their scents swirl around me like the cinnamon on Kellen’s pastries. “Also, I have a delivery tomorrow.”
Nolan raises an eyebrow. “You deliver these out? To where?”
“Senior center,” Elliot supplies. “It’s his monthly thing.”
Nolan doesn’t say anything to that, but I see him processing that information and tucking it away for later use. How a senior center could be dangerous is anyone’s guess.
I flash Kellen a playful grin. “So this is what palace heirs do in their downtime? I always imagined fencing practice. Maybe falconry.”
Kellen rolls his eyes. “If you must know, my viral secret is that I run an extremely popular baking channel.” He pauses, then reluctantly admits, “With over two million followers.”
I drop the walnut. “Wait.What?Two million?” And then it connects and my eyes go wide. “You’rethe ‘Handsome Hands Bakery’ guy?” I glance down at his hands. How the hell did I not realize before now?
He blushes bright with pink across his cheekbones. “I am, but I only get away with it because only Elliot knows, and my face, signet ring, nothing that could identify me is in the videos. And no one from the palace that’s beenhereseems to notice the familiarity of the kitchen.”
My mouth drops open and I clap my hands together with a little squeal that would mortify me if I weren’t so genuinely surprised. The Handsome Hands Bakery videos? I’ve fallen asleep to those gentle kneading motions more nights than I can count.
My own blush starts as my mindimmediatelypictures those kneading motions at work elsewhere. On my own body.
I blink and add, “I’ve sent your videos to people. I made your lemon twist bread for Thanksgiving. It’s still the only thing my aunt talks about.”
Elliot grins proudly, while Kellen busies himself with exactly nothing, refusing to make eye contact. It’s pretty adorable actually. Who would have thought that Prince Kellen Hale not only makes cinnamon rolls, butisone.
I want to reach out and squeeze his arm, but I settle for crowding his personal space. “You could have told me. You don’t strike me as the bashful type.”
Kellen shrugs lightly. “I like having something that’s just mine. That’s not for the world to pick apart.”
I get that, maybe too much.
Kellen’s eyes light up. “Want to help? Usually I drag Elliot in to assist, but I’ve used up nearly all of my good will there.”
Elliot laughs.
My hands go up. “Do I look like someone who can be trusted with an egg wash?”
“You look like someone who’s been banned from three separate hotel chains for fire-related incidents,” Elliot says dryly.
Nolan cracks a smile but doesn’t affirm or deny.
“Those wereaccidents.” They were also hilarious, but the insurance companies will never see it that way.
Kellen hands me a bowl and points to a mountain of dough. “Here. Make balls the size of golf balls. Not tennis or baseball.”
