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Page 92 of All's Well that Friends Well

“Hi,” I say, smiling at everyone. Then I cross over to the fridge, scooting past Dell and reaching up to grab the plastic container I’ve stored on top. “Any food allergies in here?”

The only answer I get is silence and curious looks, so I nod.

“Perfect! I brought cookies this morning, and I need to get rid of them before I go home or my sisters will never forgive me. We’ll eat all of them in a day. Does anyone want some? Chocolate chip,” I clarify. “No nuts.”

There’s more silence for a brief moment as all eyes fall on me. I wiggle the container slightly, letting the cookies rustle around inside. I baked them last night and snuck a couple for Aurora and India, but I stashed the rest in here this morning. I figure a sweet treat never hurts when it comes to warming people up.

I shake the container again, holding it a bit higher this time, until Marianne holds up her hand.

“I’ll take one,” she says with a tentative smile.

I beam back at her and pop the top off the container. I think we might still be friends.

“I’m setting them here,” I say, putting them on the counter. “Everyone, please help yourselves. And if you have requests for other baked goods, let me know. I’ll take any excuse to try a new recipe.”

“You like to bake?” Josh says, standing up and grabbing two cookies.

“She loves it,” Luca says dryly from behind me. “And she’s good at it. Eat those—she’ll keep making more.” He gestures at the Tupperware and then settles himself awkwardly in an open chair.

Josh and Marianne exchange looks as Josh sits back down and passes Marianne one of the cookies. I ignore this, because it’s going to take people a while to get used to me and my dynamic with Luca. I’ll just carry on. So I glance over at Luca, pointing at the cookies.

“Do you want one, Mr. Slater?”

He blinks at me, looking surprised. I take that as a yes and grab him the biggest one, the one with the most chocolate chips. Then I return to his seat and plop down in the chair next to him.

“I really think you’d like these if you’d just try them,” I say.

“I have a confession,” he mutters under his breath, picking up the cookie and looking at it.

“I’m listening,” I murmur back, hopefully quiet enough that people don’t hear. They’re standing up with the sliding of chairs and swarming the cookie tub. “Please share.”

“I’ve devoured every single thing you’ve given me to eat,” he says. Then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

And those words should not sound as sensual as they do. They really shouldn’t. But my heart flutters. It actually flutters, little wings in my chest, as my stomach swoops.

“Say that word again,” I breathe.

Luca leans the tiniest bit closer, his gaze clashing with mine. “Devour,” he says in a low voice.

I shiver. “I notice you didn’t ask which word I meant.”

He turns his attention back to his cookie. “Your cheeks are bright pink,” he murmurs, his lips twitching.

I’m sure he’s right. “Have you really liked my food?” I say. I find myself blinking as those stomach swoops and flutters are drowned out by something more potent—out-of-control tears stinging in the corners of my eyes.

Ugh. Why does this make me emotional?Why?

“Yes. I—” But he breaks off, peering over at me from behind his glasses. “Are you crying again?”

“I’m feeling a surge of joy,” I say with a little sniffle. I squeeze my lids shut and open them, which helps. “I’ve been trying to get on your good side with all those cookies and brownies and bars.” Then I frown at him as something else occurs to me. “You could have said something, you know?” I lean sideways, nudging him with my elbow. “What was your favorite? I’ll bake more.”

His lips twitch at this, but he keeps his gaze on the cookie, which he’s now breaking little pieces off of, popping them in his mouth one by one. “The peach crumble was excellent.”

I nod enthusiastically, brightening even more. “It was, wasn’t it? Isn’t it delicious?”

“It was delicious,” he admits. He pauses, glancing at me. “Where’s your lunch?”

“Oh,” I say, scooting my chair back. “It’s in the fridge. I’ll—” But I break off, startling as I feel his touch on my knee. It’s little more than a brush, barely any pressure, but goosebumps erupt up my arms and legs all the same.