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Dammit. “It was a mistake,” she shot back

The air shifted behind her. She braced.

“Kissing you is never a mistake.” His warm breath fanned across her neck, a hint of mint on it.

Her pulse jumped — damn him — but she lifted her chin and kept her gaze fixed on the street, ignoring the man now standing beside her at the edge of the steps. “Well, it was. And it won’t happen again.”

Silence stretched between them for a second too long.

Then, softer, more dangerous, he said, “Keep telling yourself that.”

She jerked to look at him. “I mean it.”

“I know you do.” His gaze dipped to her lips, slow enough to feel like a touch. “Doesn’t change anything.”

She folded her arms. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I’m very sure of you.”

That hit. Harder than it should have.

Felicity scoffed. “It was nothing. A moment. That’s all.”

Ronan huffed out a quiet laugh. “Right. That’s why you’re back on my doorstep over a container.”

“I told you—”

“You could’ve thrown it out.”

Felicity threw up her hands. “You’re impossible. And I am late for work.” She put action to her words and walked down the steps

“Right.” He laughed softly. “Drive safe, Felicity.”

She didn’t look back.

But his last words landed anyway.

“I’ll see you soon.”

*

The parcel sat on her desk when she got back from patrol. Felicity frowned at it. She wasn’t expecting a delivery.

“Came about thirty minutes ago,” Brianna called from the desk behind her.

She pulled out her chair and sat, grabbing the scissors from the top drawer. A quick snip — and she froze.

The same plastic container she’d dropped off earlier.

Felicity frowned and unclipped the lid.

Her breath caught.

The key sat inside, now threaded with a tag — polished metal, the letter F bold and unmistakable, catching the light when she shifted it.

Alongside it lay a cellophane-wrapped bundle of cookies, tied neatly with twine. And a folded note.

Her stomach gave a small, traitorous flutter.