Page 34 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

“Shit, shit, shit!”

The cookies are a disaster. They’ve spread out into one giant, gooey blob, bubbling at the edges and burnt in the middle. I grab the nearest kitchen towel and start fanning the smoke away, but it’s too late.

The smoke alarm goes off, its shrill beeping echoing throughout the house.

“Are you kidding me?!”

I rush around in a panic, trying to figure out how to turn it off, when I hear footsteps behind me. Of course, it’s Theo. Because why wouldn’t he show up at the absolute worst moment?

“What the hell is going on in here?” His voice is sharp, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

I whirl around to face him, arms flailing in frustration. “I was trying to bake!”

His gaze shifts from the smoky oven to the mess of flour and dough smeared all over the counters, then back to me. His lips twitch and for a second, I think he’s going to laugh. But he doesn’t.

He’s too much of a control freak for that.

“I can see that,” he says dryly. “You set the oven on fire?”

I glare at him, wiping my flour-covered hands on my already ruined jeans. “I didn’t set it on fire. The cookies just... expanded and dripped and....”

He steps closer, peering into the oven with a raised brow.

“That’s not expanding. That’s a science experiment gone wrong.”

Oh, now he has jokes?

“I know!” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “I screwed up, okay? You don’t have to rub it in.”

He stares at me for a long moment, and then, to my complete shock, he smiles. An honest, genuine smile. Not the smirk he usually gives me when he’s being sarcastic, but an actual smile.

“You’recoveredin flour,” he points out, his voice lighter now, almost teasing.

I look down at myself and sigh. “Yeah, well... it happens.”

“You look like a four-year-old that got into the flour,” he chuckles. “Was there any left for the cookies?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, to my utter surprise, He starts to laugh really hard. It’s not loud or over the top, but it’s enough to make me blink in confusion.

“Are you laughing at me?” I ask, half-offended but also a little pleased.

“I’m not sure what else to do in this situation,” he replies, still chuckling.

“I mean, look at you.

You’ve managed to destroy the kitchen, set off the smoke alarm, and cover yourself in flour, all in the span of, what, twenty minutes?”

I can’t help it; I start laughing too. Maybe it’s the absurdity of the whole situation, or perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve been so desperate to break the ice between us, but I laugh until my stomach hurts.

“You should’ve seen the explosion in the microwave,” I say between fits of giggles.

“Explosion?”

“Yeah, the butter... it didn’t survive.”

He shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re a disaster.”

“I know.” I wipe at my eyes, my laughter dying down to a smile. “But hey, I’m a disaster with good intentions.”

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