Page 6 of One S'more Time

"Someone's impatient today," I say, scratching behind his ears. His tail thumps against the floor as he leans into my touch, those big eyes looking up at me with that mix of adoration and expectation only dogs can perfect. The rhythm of his wagging tail picks up speed as my fingers find his favorite spot. "Don't worry, buddy. I haven't forgotten about you." His ears perk up at my reassurance, and I swear he's smiling at me, that goofy canine grin that never fails to melt my heart a little.

"I have something special for him." Ellie disappears into the back, returning with what looks like a dog-friendly muffintopped with a bone-shaped cookie. The pastry is perfectly formed, golden-brown with flecks of what might be carrots or sweet potato visible in the crumb. "Been experimenting with new recipes. He's my official taste-tester. Aren't you, Cooper?"

"Careful, you'll spoil him," I warn, though I can't help smiling at how Cooper's entire body wiggles with anticipation. His tail is practically a blur behind him, and those eyes are locked on the treat like it's the only thing that matters in the universe right now. I've seen that look before—usually right before he completely forgets all his training and starts doing his happy dance. "He already thinks Sweet Somethings is some kind of magical kingdom where treats rain from the sky."

"That's the whole point." She bends down to offer Cooper the treat, her dark curls falling forward as she presents it with the same care she might give a human customer. The genuine joy on her face when he eagerly accepts—taking it with surprising gentleness from her palm—makes something tighten in my chest. There's something impossibly sweet about watching her connect with my dog, this little moment of pure happiness that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with who she is.

Ellie

I've started baking extra on Mondays and Thursdays. For practice, obviously. Not because I know Nate will show up with Cooper, his timing so consistent you could set a watch by it. And definitely not because I've been experimenting with new dog-friendly recipes that might make Cooper's tail wag even harder, or because I've noticed which pastries make Nate's eyes light up with appreciation when he smiles. It's purely professionaldevelopment—at least that's what I keep telling myself as I check the clock for the fifth time in twenty minutes, wondering if today will be the day they break their perfect attendance record.

"I made too many cinnamon rolls this morning," I lie, sliding a box across the counter, my heart doing that stupid little flutter thing it does whenever he's around. "Thought you might want to take some to the station."

"Retired, remember?" His eyes warm with amusement when he smiles, and I have to pretend I'm adjusting something under the counter so he doesn't see how that smile affects me. "But I'll gladly take them off your hands."

"Just saving them from going to waste," I say with a casual shrug that feels anything but casual. My fingers tap nervously against the countertop as I watch him peek inside the box—cinnamon rolls I definitely made with him in mind, with that extra bit of orange zest I noticed he liked last time. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"You seem to have a lot of extras on Thursdays," he observes, taking a bite of one. The way his eyes close briefly in appreciation makes my stomach flip. A small noise of pleasure escapes him, and I suddenly find the bakery about ten degrees warmer than it was a minute ago.

"Just... testing new recipes." I busy myself wiping down an already clean counter. My hand moves in frantic little circles over the spotless surface. "Thursday is my experimental day. Sometimes things don't sell, and it would be a shame to throw them out." The lie sits awkwardly between us, considering I've been baking these exact cinnamon rolls—with that specific amount of orange zest—every Thursday for the past month, coincidentally right before his regular visits.

"Must be why Thursdays are becoming my favorite day of the week." His voice is low, almost intimate, and it does something ridiculous to my pulse rate.

I look up, catching his gaze, and for a moment, I forget to be nervous. The usual flutter of insecurity takes a backseat to whatever's happening between us right now. "Mine too," I admit softly, surprising myself with the honesty. The words slip out before I can filter them, hanging in the air like the cinnamon-scented steam from the fresh rolls. Part of me wants to snatch them back, but the way his eyes warm at my confession makes me glad I didn't.

"And we know Cooper loves any day he gets to see you," Nate says, his gaze still locked on mine. There's something in the way he looks at me—like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve, but enjoying every moment of the mystery. His expression softens slightly at the corners, and I wonder if he realizes how much that small gesture disarms me completely. The bakery suddenly feels ten degrees warmer, and I can't blame it on the ovens this time.

I try to deflect with a laugh. "Coop loves any day he gets treats." Sure enough, the tail starts wagging furiously as soon as the words are out of my mouth. That dog has a sixth sense for the t-word—his eyes darting between Nate and me like he's following the most riveting tennis match in history. It's almost embarrassing how quickly I reach for the jar of homemade dog biscuits I keep behind the counter specifically for him.

"I think there's more to it than that," he says. "I worked with this guy a few years ago. Young kid, cocky as hell, knew it all. The first time Cooper met him, he growled."

I widen my eyes at the thought of the big ball of love in front of me being aggressive with anyone. Cooper, who looks at me nowwith those soulful brown eyes while happily munching his treat, seems incapable of anything but tail wags and gentle nudges for more attention.

"A few months later, we had a string of fires," he continues, his voice dropping slightly. "Clearly arson. Come to find out this kid had been setting them so he could be the hero when he put the fires out. Somehow Coop knew." Nate reaches down to scratch behind Cooper's ears, and the dog leans into his touch with complete devotion. "Dogs have this sixth sense about people that we humans could use a little more of."

"So I should be honored that he can't keep his tail still around me?" I ask with a smile, feeling oddly flattered by Cooper's approval. There's something heartwarming about earning a dog's trust, especially one with such good judgment. I watch as Cooper looks between Nate and me, his tail thumping against the floor in a steady rhythm that seems to say he's perfectly content right where he is.

"He knows someone special when he meets them," Nate says. "And I've learned to trust his judgment." There's something warm and sincere in his voice that makes my heart flutter in my chest.

He takes a step closer to me and I can feel myself break into a cold sweat. The distance between us shrinks to almost nothing, and suddenly I'm hyperaware of everything—the slight woodsy scent of his cologne, the way his eyes soften as he looks at me, even the sound of my own uneven breathing. Cooper watches us with what I swear is canine approval, and I wonder if dogs can sense when their owners are interested in someone.

Nate tips my chin up with a gentle finger, and my breath catches in my throat. His touch is feather-light but confident, sending tingles across my skin.

"Tell me if you don't want this," he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that makes my knees weak. His mouth hovers tantalizingly close to mine, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search mine, patient and questioning, waiting for permission even as the electricity between us crackles with undeniable intensity.

"I want this," I respond. My voice only cracks a little, betraying how much Iactuallywant this—how long I've been waiting for it without even knowing.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks cascading through my body like a circuit finally completed. My arms are winding around his neck before I consciously realize it, fingers threading through the short hair at his nape. He pulls me close with strong, steady hands at my waist, and we seem to fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that have been searching for each other. His mouth moves against mine with a tenderness that makes my heart flutter wildly in my chest, and I melt into him, forgetting everything but this moment.

"Been wanting to do that since the first moment I met you," he says, his voice a low rumble against my lips. "I'vereallybeen wanting to do that since our first conversation."

His confession sends a delicious shiver down my spine. The way his eyes hold mine, dark and intent, tells me he means every word. My heart is still racing, and I can feel the warmth of his hands through my clothes, steady and sure against my waist.

"That long, huh?" I manage to whisper, surprised my voice works at all when my entire body feels like it's humming with electricity.

"You think I meet smart, gorgeous women like you every day?" he says, his voice dropping to that intimate tone that makes my insides flutter. "Because I don't. I didn't think I'd meet one in this lifetime."

His words wash over me like warm honey, settling into all the places I've kept guarded. For a moment, I can't breathe—can't process that this man, this impossibly handsome man with kindness in his eyes, is looking at me like I'm something precious.

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