Page 64 of All in December
“Okay, Chef Nash,” I tease, bringing my eyes back to him. “What do we need to make these cinnamon rolls?”
“No idea.” He laughs. “That’s what the internet is for.”
I’m grinning from ear to ear because doing this with himmakes everything feel lighter and better. Almost like home is something we’re building together in real time.
While he pulls up a recipe, I stand here admiring him until he starts listing ingredients and telling me where to find them.
“Before we get started, let me get the resident playlist curator.” Nash smirks, calling for Emma.
“Yeah, Dad?” she asks with rosy cheeks.
“Will you put on a Christmas playlist for us to make these cinnamon rolls for you guys?”
“Yes!” she shouts, telling Alexa to play her favorite station.
“Now we can begin,” Nash declares, and Emma runs back into the living room.
We start by warming the milk and butter on the stove, and Nash dips his pinky into the pot. “Warm, but not boiling hot,” he declares. “Good enough, I suppose.”
I nod. “If it’s good for you, it’s good for me.”
He whisks in the yeast while I mix the dry ingredients, then we combine them all into the mixer bowl, and the dough starts to come together slowly.
By the time we roll out the dough, we’re both covered in flour, and I don’t think I’d ever volunteer to make cinnamon rolls from scratch again… well, unless Nash wanted to.
Once they’re ready to sit in the fridge overnight, we clean up the absolute explosion we’ve left behind with dishes in the sink, flour on the floor, and sugar on the top of the stove.
Nash wipes his hands on a towel and looks over at me like he’s about to say something serious. Instead, he just says, “That was fun.”
“You’re fun,” I say before I can stop myself, and when he looks over at me, his eyes are soft. He steps closer, handsresting lightly on my waist, like he’s not sure if he should lean in yet.
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he declares.
“Okay,” I whisper.
And he does.
It’s sweet, unhurried, and tastes like cinnamon.
It’s my new favorite flavor.
CHAPTER 26
Nash
The smell of cinnamon hits me before I even open my eyes. I shift in bed, reaching out, but the space next to me is empty, and the sheets are cold. I hear movement down the hall, followed by laughter, and it all comes back to me.
Caleb staying the night with the kids knowing, and us making homemade cinnamon rolls before bed. And apparently, he let me sleep in this morning while he wrangled the children, which is a major luxury and deserving of another brutal fucking, like I know he craves.
I wish we’d gotten to wake up like we did at the hotel, but knowing he came down my throat last night is still satisfying, even if I didn’t get to fuck him against a window wall for all of Denver to see.
There’s more laughter coming from the kitchen, and I really don’t want to miss these moments, so I roll out of bed, go to the bathroom, and quickly get dressed.
When I walk into the kitchen, the cinnamon rolls are already on the table, still warm and freshly iced, and slightlylopsided in a way that makes me love them more. Benji is mid-bite with icing on his face, and Emma’s eyes widen with pure joy when she sees me, cinnamon roll in hand. Sam’s the only civilized-looking one eating his with a fork.Leave it to my kids.
Caleb glances up from where he’s pouring coffee. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I rub a hand across my face and head straight for the coffee, bumping my shoulder against his. “They turned out okay?”
