Page 69 of ICED
“Clearly.”
She’s still licking her fingers and smiling at me with a little tilt to her head, and something in my chest tightens. She’s playing with me. And enjoying it.
“So…” she says, stepping closer, “do you flirt like this with everyone you bake with?”
“No,” I murmur. “Just you.”
She blinks. Then says, “Good answer.”
Lila’s yawning by the time the last tray cools. Maya tucks her in while I start cleaning up, wiping down counters and boxing up the cupcakes for the fridge.
She comes back into the kitchen, barefoot again, ponytail falling loose, and it does something dangerous to me.
“Lila’s out cold,” she says, watching me rinse the bowls.
“She did good. Head pastry assistant.”
“She loves it when you’re here.”
I glance at her. “You okay with that?”
“I think I am.”
She crosses the kitchen slowly, until she’s standing just behind me. Her hand brushes my arm, deliberate now. Not accidental. Not tentative.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” she says.
“Me too.”
“You make this feel easy.”
“That’s the idea.”
She leans against the counter beside me, not moving away. We stand like that for a long moment; quiet, close, charged.
Then she says, low and warm, “Do you want to stay for tea?”
I glance toward the hallway where Lila’s bedroom is. “She’s asleep?”
“Out like a light.”
My hands are still in the sink. Hers are warm on the counter. We’re a breath apart.
I look at her. “Tea, huh?”
Her smile turns wicked. “Well. That’s what we’llcallit.”
And just like that, something shifts between us, like the last barrier has fallen.
I dry my hands, heart thudding, and say, “I’d love to stay fortea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MAYA
I’m not sure when exactly it changes. Maybe it’s the way Owen’s hands move in my kitchen, gentle, certain, like he belongs here. Maybe it’s the way he handles my daughter, patient and steady, like he’s not afraid of the parts of me that are most complicated. Or maybe it’s just that I’m tired of pretending I don’t want him when every part of me is wired tight with the ache to close the distance.
He’s drying his hands on a tea towel when I ask if he wants to stay for tea.
