She gasps, clutching her chest in mock shock. “Say it again, I think my ears deceive me.”
I grab the ruined bowl of batter and dump it into the bin. “Let’s just try again.”
The second batch goes better—less lumpy, smooth, and looks more like something a human being might eat. We get it into the oven and set the timer, both leaning against the counter as the warmth of the oven fills the kitchen.
Ivy sighs, stretching her arms. “Well, we’re practically professionals now.”
I give her a wink. “Should we open a bakery?”
She waves a hand. “Too mainstream. We should do something niche. Only cakes that require cups as measurements.”
I snort. “The Cup Cake Café.”
She grins. “Exactly. Very exclusive.”
I grab a dishcloth, wiping down the counter. “Right, let’s clean this disaster zone.”
Ivy nods, picking up the bag of flour—just as a small puff of white dust bursts out of the top and settles on her shirt.
She freezes. I freeze.
Then I smirk. “You know, white really suits you.”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t.”
I wipe my hands on the cloth. “Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.”
I grab the bag from her hands and tip it—just slightly. A tiny dusting of flour floats onto her arm.
Ivy giggles. “Two can play this game.”
She lunges for the bag, but I twist away, laughing. “Oh no, you started this.”
“I did not!” she shouts, but she’s already grabbing a handful of flour from the counter and—before I can dodge—smacks it right onto my chest.
I stare down at the white imprint on my shirt. Then at her.
Her eyes widen slightly.
“Oh, you are in trouble,” I warn with a chuckle.
She shrieks as I grab a handful and flick it at her, catching her hair. She retaliates immediately, and suddenly, there’s flour in the air, on the counters, in my hair, on her face—
We’re laughing too hard to care.
Somewhere between dodging a handful of flour and grabbing for the bag, my hand brushes against her waist, and for half a second, something shifts.
She freezes just slightly, her breath catching, her body warm beneath my touch.
And then she shoves an entire handful of flour straight into my face.
I cough, spluttering. “Right. That’s it.”
I grab her by the waist, lifting her clean off the floor as she howls with laughter, kicking her feet in protest.
“Theo, put me down! I’m too heavy!”
