Page 73 of Simply Yours

“Bring it.”

“I’m off tomorrow – and I have to warn you: I’m picky.”

“I’m open to your suggestions,” He replied. “I’ll pick you up at two, and we can grab dinner or something.”

“So shopping and… and a date? Are you okay?”

“I think I’ve finally figured myself out, Catnip.”

“Well, okay, then,” Caitlin chuckled, and he heard a bell chime in the distance. “Gotta go!Muah!” she said in a rush, and he surprised himself by saying ‘Muah’back, both of them laughing softly before the call ended – and he shook his head in disbelief.

* * *

Jason rapped his knuckles against Caitlin’s door, rolling his shoulders as he waited. The moment it swung open, he barely had time to register the frustration burning in her deep green eyes before he was met with the sight of her—flour dusted across her cheeks, a smudge of white streaked down her forearm, and an utterly ridiculous, yet undeniably adorable apron wrapped around her waist. The thing was vintage-style, covered in colorful ruffles, and looked so out of place on her that he couldn’t help himself. His lips twitched, a slow smile forming.

Her glare was instant. “No comments.”

Jason bit back his laughter, though his chest shook with it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious,” she muttered, waving him in as she turned on her heel. “I’m running behind, and I’m not happy about it. I lost track of time, and I’m almost done, but it’s just…” She threw her hands up in exasperation before pressing them to her hips.

“You’re fine.” He stepped inside, glancing around with curiosity. He’d never actually been in her house before, and though his focus should have been on her flour-covered frustration, his mind cataloged the details—a cozy warmth, soft light filtering in, the lingering scent of something rich and yeasty in the air. It felt like her, all at once comforting and full of energy, and he was struck by the simple fact that he liked it here.

Caitlin caught him looking and narrowed her eyes as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Kitchen. Now.”

He followed her, intrigued when she pointed toward a glass container on the counter filled with a bubbling, foamy substance.

“This is Mary Dough,” she announced with the same gravity someone might use to introduce a beloved pet.

Jason blinked. “Mary... Dough?”

“My sourdough starter,” she clarified, shooting him a look. “And she’s really kicking now. Remember the bread for the orphanage – that’s from her. I’m making a loaf from the discard.”

He arched a brow. “Show me.”

The words were out before he fully realized them, but something about the way she moved—the way she commanded the kitchen, the sheer focus in her expression—had him riveted. She had measuring cups scattered across the counter, a thermometer, an oddly shaped pan with a heavy lid, and a pink scraper she wielded like a weapon as she worked the dough.

“I’m walking the dough,” she explained, her movements precise, hands deft as she slid the scraper under one side, folding the mass over itself. It was oddly mesmerizing, the way she moved with such practiced ease, her focus absolute.

Jason leaned in, smirking. “And you do this for fun?”

Her lips quirked up. “Oh yeah.”

She didn’t hesitate; her smile was bright as she spoke, and he felt something in his chest tighten. “I feel good, like I’m feeding myself something nutritious, and the smell of bread baking in the house? It’s just cozy, you know?”

He didn’t know. But watching her and seeing the passion in her expression, he suddenly wanted to understand.

“Is it any good?”

Caitlin gasped in mock horror. “You haven’t had my sourdough? Not even from the festival?”

He shrugged. “I donated all of it to the orphanage, remember?”

“Oh, I remember all right,” she laughed, shaking her head as she moved quickly, tucking the dough into a linen-lined basket before turning toward a breadbox. “Let me treat you, then.”

He watched as she pulled out a loaf, slicing off a thick wedge. “Waxed fabric keeps it fresher longer,” she explained, completely in her element. “And I keep a butter crock on the counter so it spreads easily.”

Jason barely had time to process that information before she smeared a generous amount of butter across the bread and handed it to him. He took a bite?—

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