Page 99 of Frosting and Flames

I give him a mock pout. “You’re too responsible.”

The soft look he gives me has my stomach filling with butterflies. “How about we have a proper sleepover this weekend? Maybe after the cookoff?”

I nod, probably too eagerly, and he comes closer, murmuring in my ear, “I have condoms at my place. And I can be shirtless for you all night.” He leans back, looking at me seriously. “If you’re ready for that. No pressure.”

I play with the hem of his shirt, heat rising to my cheeks even after everything we just did. “I am.”

I dress and walk him out, giving him a lingering kiss goodnight, but he doesn’t make it past the porch steps before I call after him, “Wait, your cake.”

I quickly box it in one of my cake carriers and hand it to him. “We didn’t even eat any, did we?”

“Oh, I enjoyed my dessert tonight.”

I bite my lip but still can’t hide my grin as I play smack his arm. “Nick.”

He’s grinning, too. “I can’t wait until you sleep over Saturday,” he says, pulling me close for one last kiss.

I’m tempted to tell him I’ll follow him home right now. That we can make good use of those condoms tonight.

But he’s already exhausted me in the best possible way. And the anticipation is pretty hot, too.

“Saturday,” I promise.

He nods, looking me over again with a gleam in his eye before he jogs down the steps and to his truck. I watch him go, wavinggoodbye, and stay out for a moment longer after the red lights of his truck’s taillights disappear down the street.

The night is warm, the air thick with the scent of a nearby flowering honeysuckle. Crickets sing in a steady chorus from the hedges, their chirping a gentle rhythm that fades into the background.

The wooden boards feel familiar under my bare feet, the glow from the porch light casting golden shadows that make everything safe. There are no distant car honks or people shouting. Just the comfortable hum of summer settling in.

I have the sudden urge to thank my parents for being so awful managing the bakery that I came back here. Somewhere I don’t need a GPS, where I can stop for conversation at any store I go to. Where I can relax, a gentle breeze teasing my arms.

Where I have the chance to be close to my sisters. Where I can rediscover purpose in the family bakery.

And where I can reconnect with Nick. My chest squeezes tight with that knowledge most of all. If so many decisions had gone a different way, I might not be standing here at all, excited to see where this next path takes us.

I turn, catching sight of the doorbell, and only frown for a moment before I head inside and pull up the app on my phone. With only a few taps, Kyle is gone.

I’m immediately lighter, the tension and anxiety present when I think about him drifting away in the breeze. I’m with someone now who truly sees me. Values me. Cherishes me.

And as much as I can’t wait for Saturday, I’m even more excited for everything yet to come.

With Nick.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

NICK

Staring down at the large pot in front of me, spoon in hand, I read over Rachel’s instructions one more time, though the words should be ingrained in my brain by now for how many times I’ve read through them.

Okay, peeled and minced garlic—check. Diced bell pepper and jalapeno—check. Browned and drained ground beef—check.

I wipe my hands on my jeans, visually checking each item. Beans, spices, tomatoes… I think I have everything.

“You look like you’re about to do brain surgery,” Tanner says, taking a big bite of one of the cayenne-cocoa cupcakes with chili-cream cheese frosting that Sydney is selling at the table across the way.

“More like defusing a bomb,” I mutter, tipping the ingredients into the pot.

Behind us, the normally empty lot of grass next to the fire station is buzzing with people, the hum of conversation and laughter enlivening the space. The event has only just startedand the place is already hopping. Someone from the community center donated booths for us to use, which makes the area look that much more official, and colorful banners flutter in the breeze.

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