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To my consternation, he folded himself into the armchair between us, adjusting his silver watch with the casual ease of someone who was used to hijacking conversations.

It should’ve pissed me off—it did, only my blood ran hot for an entirely different reason as he crossed his arms over his chest and listened to Liam’s story about isolation and the flour incident. His light blue sweater matched his eyes and draped over him, straining against his biceps and making my mind blue-screen, before I looked away and took another sip of tea.

The prickle on the side of my neck told me he’d caught it, and I watched the fire for a moment, cheeks burning.

“Yeah, baking’s a bitch,” he drawled, voice honey-thick in a way that was entirely unfair.

“Oh, shut up, Mr I-can-make-pancakes-and-shit!” Liam huffed.

My head whipped around and I found him watching me over the rim of a mug before he took a sip of what smelled like coffee, though all I could focus on was the shape of his lips, with that fuller bottom one and the line of his cupid’s bow I’d traced with my mouth only yesterday, a memory which still half-felt like a fever dream.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s pancakes, not macarons,” he said, voice thick with amusement.

“Still…”

“You can cook?” I blurted out, then tried to wash it down with a gulp I nearly choked on.

“Easy…” he murmured, leaning in as if to help or steady me, before catching himself and clearing his throat.

“Just a little. Nothing fancy.” He shrugged, averting his gaze.

Huh. So not just potatoes then?

I nodded, coughing under my palm, until air didn’t hurt anymore on the way in.

“Speaking of pancakes, where’s Pri?” Liam wondered, stealing yet another of what I now considered our biscuits. I chortled at the comparison and took a more careful sip, glancing at Josh and catching him looking. Again.

“Where do you think? With Mark,” Josh muttered, mock-grimacing. Then, he leaned a little closer, gaze locking on mine.

“Stop evading the question, Mia.” He draped an arm over Liam’s shoulder. “You can’t beat me, so you’re stealing my man?”

He flashed me a grin that made my stomach flip, slow and amused, as if letting me in on a private joke.

Liam huffed and squirmed to get away, muttering something about a “reputation” under his breath, but I had trouble hearing because Josh was watching my mouth, chewing a piece of biscuit like he’d very much prefer biting something else. Then, the kill shot: his tongue darted out to lick a crumb off his finger—slowly, almost absentmindedly—and my brain stopped working.

“Who’s not helping rumours now? Gerroff!”

“All right, all right,” he chuckled, before holding his palms up in a gesture of defeat so at odds with the private smirk he sent my way. Then, he straightened up, stole a biscuit from the plate in front of me, and shuffled away, leaving behind a phantom of that sandalwood.

Shit.

I thought I could survive this.

But the reality of him watching me like he wanted to kiss me breathless in the middle of the café and the heavy intention behind his gaze were not for the faint of heart. And by the way mine galloped and tripped over itself… it was the perfect willing victim.

I turned to Liam’s unsuspecting face, and a forbidden thrill coursed through me, much like the one I got when I aced an exam.

Hiding the pull between us shouldn’t feel this fun.

My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I spied Josh’s silhouette disappearing through the door, and I battled a mix of disappointment and curiosity that should’ve worried me. But as I gestured and regaled Liam with holiday tales of my own, shoulders loosening with each one, I found I didn’t even want to fight it.

“—he went like this.” I mimicked Blackey shaking his booty before dropping down heavy on my lap. “And my bones screeched. I heard them!”

Liam’s face had gone pink with laughter, dimple on full display as he wheezed and tried to catch his breath.

“He still thinks he’s a baby,” he chortled, eyes nearly disappearing behind a beaming smile.