Page 4 of Red, White, and You

Focus, Gigi. He's here for cupcakes, not to make you forget how to form coherent thoughts.

"Joe said, and I quote, 'If Gigi made it, it's worth breaking my diet for.'"

Despite myself, I feel a little flutter of pride. Joe's been one of my most loyal customers, sneaking in here for scones and cupcakes even when he's on a nutrition plan stricter than a Navy SEAL's. For him to risk his carefully monitored diet and actually recommend my baking to Phoenix? That's not just loyalty; that's the highest compliment a baker can get.

"Fine," I say, selecting a particularly gorgeous red velvet cupcake from the display. "But this comes with a warning."

"Which is?"

I package the cupcake in a box and slide it across the counter, and our fingers brush as he takes it. The contact is brief, barely there, but I feel it all the way to my toes.

Get it together, Gigi.

"My cupcakes are dangerously addictive," I say with my most professional smile.

Phoenix grins. "You know,Idon't have training camp in two weeks. So, why don't you go ahead and give me another one?"

I pretend to gasp in horror. "Hart Health would never approve."

"They don't need to know."

He pulls out a twenty and places it on the counter. I ring him up and count his change with perhaps more concentration than the task requires, hyper-aware of his presence just inches away.

"Don't blame me when you find yourself back here tomorrow morning," I say, handing over his change and carefully avoiding any skin-to-skin contact this time.

Phoenix's eyes lock onto mine, and for a second, the air between us feels charged. Like we're not just talking about cupcakes anymore.

"I'll take my chances," he says quietly.

And then he's gone again, leaving me standing here in my frosting-splattered bakery, heart beating faster than a mixer on high speed.

This is not good.

This is the opposite of good.

This is a recipe for disaster, and I should know—I'm an expert at those.

Chapter 3

Phoenix

"Pleasetellmethat'swhat I think it is," Joe says, practically bouncing on his toes as I walk through his front door with the cupcake box.

I swear he didn’t look this excited when we got our Super Bowl rings.

“Gigi’s red velvet,” I confirm, setting the box on his kitchen counter. “And she warned me these things are dangerously addictive.”

“She’s not wrong.” Joe tears into the cupcake wrapper like a kid on Christmas morning. “Ella’s been trying to crack this recipe for years. Gigi guards it like state secrets.”

I watch my former teammate take a bite and actually moan with pleasure. It’s both amusing and slightly disturbing.

“You know training camp starts in two weeks, right?” I point out. “You’re supposed to be in peak physical condition.”

“Some things are worth the extra cardio.” Joe pauses mid-chew, studying me with those sharp quarterback eyes that see everything. “Wait. Did you actually wear that Hart Health shirt to her bakery?”

I glance down at the logo. “Yeah, why?”

Joe whistles low. “Bold move. Gigi’s not exactly a fan of being reminded about her family connections.”

---