I turn my back to Ky. “Do you mind tying this for me?” He complies and swats my butt when he is done, causing me to jump. I sure wasn’t expecting that. I feel a blush creep on my cheeks and completely lose my train of thought. Fuck. I look over my shoulder at him, and Ky is grinning ear to ear. My eyes meet his before looking down at his mouth.
I clear my throat and clap my hands together. “Okay, let’s get started.”
While I dissolve the yeast in warm water and set the bowl to the side on the counter, Kyler finds a playlist on Spotify and turns the music on. I smile because Mom always had oldies music playing in the kitchen when we would bake together. Dad would swoop her in his arms and spin her around the kitchen. She would swat at him, getting flour all over him, but he never stopped, and she would eventually give up the fight and embrace their dancing together.
Per my instruction, Kyler mixes milk, melted butter, salt, sugar, and an egg.
“Okay, now add the flour but do it slo—” Before I can finish my sentence, he has added some a little too quickly and it poofs up in a smoke ball. Flour covers us, and I let out a loud giggle.
“Thanks for the warning,” Ky says as he joins in my laughter. I shrug, still laughing.
“Okay, now add the rest slow-ly.” I make sure to enunciate the slowly part. Without looking at me, he flips his middle finger at me. I try to hide my smile because he’s really trying to focus on this. His eyes narrow and wrinkles form on his forehead from his concentration. I then add the yeast mixture and the rest of the flour.
“What got you into baking? You just look so peaceful in your element. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so calm before.”
I smirk to the side as I continue to monitor the mixing bowl, making sure all ingredients are mixed perfectly. “Emme…” I pause, not wanting to bring Em up with Ky—why I want to hold back, I’m not sure. “Haylee’s mom got me into it. She was the best baker and cook I knew. I just always found comfort in the kitchen. Some people feel at peace on the field or in a dance studio; for me it’s the kitchen.”
“Fair enough.”
I take a handful of flour and spread it over the counter and look over to Kyler, who has a seriously confused look on his face. I smile. “Now we have to knead the dough. It’s going to get a bit messy.”
Looking down at his T-shirt, he raises his eyebrows at me while I press my lips together in an attempt to hold back my laughter. “Okay, so this time we are going to be doing it on purpose.” He sticks his tongue out at me, and I laugh. I carefully take the dough out of the bowl and place it on the floured surface. I tilt my head for him to walk closer to me. “You’re going to do this part.” He hesitantly touches the dough and makes a face like he is turned off by it.
“Oh my God, quit being a baby about it. Just go for it.”
He places his hands on the dough and attempts to knead the dough, and I cringe at how awful he is doing it. I remember my first time; my mother told me I was a natural. Kyler, not so much. He looks very uncomfortable.
He notices my furrowed brow. “I’m completely fucking this up, aren’t I?”
I smile back at him, knowing he is trying his hardest. For some reason he really wants to be successful at this and not mess it up, maybe so he can actually take credit for these. Hell, if they turn out, I will gladly give him credit. Whenever Zach or Emmett tried to help, I ended up having to redo the recipe. They were better at eating the outcome than trying to help bake it.
I nudge him out of my way with my hip, coat my hands with a light dusting of flour, and start to knead the dough. “See how I’m doing it? It’s an art, not just punching it into oblivion.”
“Ready to try?” I go to move out of the way, but Kyler has blocked me in. With his front to my back, I close my eyes and relish in the feeling of his body up against mine. I can feel the ripple of each muscle up against my back and am now remembering him the day we met when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. My breathing hitches and I inhale his cologne. God he smells good. He slides his hands down my arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He squeezes my hands before coating his own with a little more flour.
I swallow, trying to refocus. Is he aware of what he is doing right now? Of course he is. Was this part of his plan? Must. Focus. On. Baking. Kyler threads his fingers through mine and begins to knead the dough as I had shown him just now. I should release my fingers and back away, but I haven’t. My breathing is becoming shallow. The feeling of having him close has sent all sorts of feelings to my core. I bite my lip before I say or do anything I might regret. Do I make him as nervous as he does me?
Anxiety and nervousness run through my veins along with a little excitement. Only a few more minutes of kneading the dough before we set it aside to rise and I get some much-needed space from Kyler.
I am so close to her right now I can smell her vanilla shampoo, and I have no shame to say I inhaled it to commit that scent to memory. It’s one thing to smell it from the bottle in the shower, but to actually smell it on her is heavenly. My thoughts are all over the place, causing my heart to race. I take notice that hers is too. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the effect I’m having on her. I wish she saw how fucking beautiful she is. I really hope that she doesn’t think I planned this all when I asked to help her, but now that I am so close to her, I don’t want to back away. I may scare her away entirely.
“Am I doing this right?”
She doesn’t speak, just goes, “Mmmm.”
I take notice her hands fit perfectly in mine. This is definitely crossing that invisible line between friends and something more that we have been playing with lately. The long glances, the innocent touches, and the dirty thoughts — at least on my end — have all brought us here. I tighten my grip on her hands as we knead the dough together, and a small moan escapes the back of her throat. Now my mind goes there—would she make that same noise if she were underneath me, squirming and screaming my name with pleasure? I wonder what she would taste like—sweet, I’m sure. When I saw her put that apron on, all I could think of was “Yes, I want to lick your frosting.”
My best friend would kill me if he knew I was having these thoughts about his sister. What the fuck is wrong with me? We have a moment, and as quickly as that moment happens, it’s gone as she quickly straightens up and steps away from me, clearing her throat.
I quietly adjust my pants when she has her back toward me, placing the dough ball in a bowl and covering it. “Now what do we do?”
She turns around with flushed cheeks. Was she thinking what I was thinking? How easily I could step up to her, lace my fingers in her hair, and kiss her. I have a feeling, though, that one kiss just wouldn’t be enough.
Dani closes her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. When she opens them and her eyes meet mine again, she looks as though she is having some sort of internal conversation with herself. I didn’t misread the signs of her flirting, right?
She turns her back to me and begins to clean the mixing bowl. “Well, we have to let that rise, and that can take about an hour, so I was just going to clean this up to prepare the icing and then sit and read on my Kindle. You can
go do whatever, and I can let you know when it’s ready, or I can just finish. I’m sure you have other things to do.”