Page 42 of The Fire We Crave

I lay them out onto the baking sheet and slide them into the oven before setting a timer.

“What do you really want to say?” I’m not sure where the moment of bravery has sprung from, but I roll with it. It’s better than the silence.

“Sorry. For climbing into your bed. Don’t remember it. I was so drunk, I could barely stand. Next thing I know, I wake up in your bed and the spot next to me is warm, like you just left it.”

The admission, one I’d already surmised from the way the bread was cut, and the way his clothes were dumped, and the smell of alcohol on his breath, still hurts.

“Want to know what the trick to making scones is?” I ask.

Smoke eyes me for a second. If he knows I’m dodging his apology, he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not.”

He’s right. I am. “The butter must be ice cold. It means it doesn’t melt easily in the baking. It causes air pockets and steam that make them fluffy. It’s the only way to make sure you get acrumbly exterior that has bite, and an interior that’s cooked but flaky.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

I put my palms on the counter. “Because it’s the combination of cold and hot that makes it special. I’m starting to see you, Smoke. And you’re a better man than I ever understood when you thaw a little.”

I pull out a clean bowl and begin to make the icing for the lemon drizzle over the scones.

He reaches for my hand to stop me, loosely holding my wrist in his grip. “You need to leave, Quinn. I’ll beef up security at the bakery for you. Make sure you have some early warning system if doors or windows are messed with. But you and me, we need to get off this path we’re on. The kiss, last night…it was all a mistake.”

My stomach flips. I don’t want to go. I think about walking up the stairs to the apartment at night. When it’s dark and I’m alone.

But this is not my house. And I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I don’t want to leave, but I know I must.

“I can go tomorrow,” I say, more bravely than I feel. “I need to pack this evening, after work, and will go tomorrow.”

Smoke nods. “Okay. I’ll send someone to beef up security today.”

I dump the lemon juice into the powdered sugar and stir quickly until the combination turns to an icing.

“That’s good of you.” I force the words from my lips. “Thank you.”

Smoke sighs. “Not sure I’m ever gonna smell lemons and not think of you.”

I look up at him, and my heart suddenly aches that I might be the only one at risk of catching feelings here. “Aren’t you tiredof being frozen?” Tears sting. “Because I am. I’m exhausted by it, Smoke.”

The first tear slips past my defenses, over my eyelashes. I can feel its cool trickle over my cheek.

“Then find someone who’ll help you thaw too.” Smoke cups my cheek gently, using his thumb to sweep the tear away. Then he sticks his thumb into his mouth. “If you need someone to get your things home, I can help in the morning.”

His indifference stings.

Feeling cruel, needing to stab at him, I use the only tool at my disposal. “I’ve seen you trying to unload a truck. I’ll find someone else.”

It’s a low blow.

But I find it hard to say anything when he turns on his heel and leaves the room.

I reach for the coffee cup on the counter, and then I tug it to my chest, holding it in both hands while I take a deep breath to settle my rattled nerves.

The doorway remains empty, and I wish for him to return through it, even though there’s nothing left to say.

My phone vibrates on the edge of the kitchen counter. A message from Ember.

Ember:There’s a barbecue at the club tonight. Come with me?

I think about my answer for a moment. I want to stay close to the club for a little while longer.

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