Page 71 of Yours Temporarily

“Jeremy left us no choice,” Wes interjects. “But he promised us two hours off early tomorrow for working late tonight.”

Damien, my friends, and Jeremy all took today off to support the café’s bustling opening. Jeremy’s dedication is particularly palpable. He even stayed late last night to assist with the final preparations.

“Let’s hustle, let’s hustle.” He claps his hands and moves around as if born for this role. I assist him in passing the food to the counter as orders flood in, maintaining our rhythm until the pace begins to slow.

We keep moving. I flit between the kitchen and dining area, expressing my gratitude to customers and reminding them to check out coupons on my blog. When the crowd thins and the lunch rush concludes, I breathe out my relief.

Back in the kitchen, I find Lexi tearing open a bag of flour and Olivia fetching a mixer while others clear the counters.

“What’s the flour for?” I arch my brows. “Aren’t you all too tired for more cooking?”

Olivia shrugs. “Jeremy wants us to celebrate the day’s end by making shortbread cookies.”

My gaze shifts to Jeremy, and he presents me with an apron, mirroring those worn by everyone else. I slip the apron over my head and secure it behind me. “Baking it is.”

“No one makes shortbread cookies without you taking charge.” Jeremy guides me toward Lexi and Olivia, who have readied the supplies and mixer. “You and I will mix the ingredients together.”

“We’ll take over once the batter’s ready,” Olivia says while Lexi mentions she’ll capture the moment in photos.

The kitchen’s still abuzz—dishes headed for the sink, trash being discarded, and leftovers being saved and raided. Jeremy and I fall into an easy rhythm, cutting the butter into the sugar and creaming them before combining them with the other ingredients.

“After everyone eats the cookies, maybe we could treat them to dinner this evening? My treat, as a thank you for their help.”

I like how he uses “we” in his sentence. “I could cook dinner at the house instead.”

“I’m not letting you anywhere near a kitchen once we leave the café.” He grins and flicks flour onto my apron.

Memories of our first time in this kitchen flood back, and I smirk at him. “You know you just put flour on my apron.”

“And what are you going to do about it, Miss Blackwood?” His tone warms all my insides. He then scoops up more flour into his palm and blows it onto my face. That smirk and mischievous glint in his eye gives away his intent.

“What’s making cookies without a little food fight?” His smile widens, and I beam back, the excitement infectious.

“Oh, it’s on, Mr. Kress.” Adrenaline mixes with anticipation as I scoop a handful of flour from the mixer and aim for him, but he’s quick to shower me with more flour.

I manage to scatter some onto his sleek hair, laughing as I look for an escape, but with the kitchen bustling, I resort to circling around. And he catches me easily, spinning me into his arms and gazing down at me. His hand caresses my cheek, and my heart starts racing as he tucks a stray curl behind my ear. The kitchen falls into a hushed silence, and I sense all focus on us. But my gaze remains on my prize—Jeremy.

“In this very kitchen, I first fell in love with you.” His voice goes husky, and a deep seriousness replaces his playful demeanor. “You looked beyond the façade I put up and invited me into your world without fear. You saw the real me, beneath my stern exterior. Remember when you covered me in flour during our so-called food wars?”

I nod, my heart thumping in my chest.

“You make the best shortbread cookies there are.”

“You’d better like her cooking now that you’re in love with her!” Jill calls out from the background, but Jeremy’s intense gaze holds mine, making everything else fade away.

“Food is just one of your many passions I admire. But more than that, I admire your confidence and your faith in God.” His confession earnest and his gaze intent, he grips my hands. The vulnerability in his blue eyes touches something deep inside me. “I want to know everything about you, Zee. I want to grow old with you and share in that faith. Maybe you can help me understand God better.”

I nod, tears brimming at his heartfelt words, and my heart thuds. Who could imagine this moment, so sincere and full of love, in this very kitchen where our “fake” romance began?

“I know we’ve done this before.” He releases me to create some space between us, then thrusts his hand into his pants pockets, and pulls something out.

I catch the sparkle of diamonds under the kitchen light, even before it’s fully revealed. This time, it isn’t nestled within a box.

“I could have bought you another ring, but this one—this was always meant for you.” His voice carries a weight of tinged emotions. “Despite my never measuring your ring size, it fits you perfectly. Just like you seamlessly fit into my life… my world.”

His eyes, shimmering under the fluorescent glow, probe mine, and emotions tighten my throat, so raw and sharp it feels like I’ve swallowed shards of glass. Around us, people express their awe with soft oohs and aahs as Jeremy articulates his declaration of love, each word coated with the depth of his feelings.

“Being with you creates a sanctuary of peace, a sense of safety, that makes me feel at home.”

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