Page 31 of How Sweet It Is (Willow Shade Island #3)

I messed up. I know I did. After I told Levi everything and how my time on Willow Shade Island has an expiration date, he took me home, barely saying a word to me. Now it’s late Monday afternoon, and I haven’t heard a peep from him.

I pick up my phone for the tenth time, trying to decide if I want to text him or not. Finally, I shoot off a quick message.

Hey, what are you up to today?

I stare at the screen. That was dumb. Why am I asking what he’s up to? I regret sending anything now.

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear.

Perfecting my gluten-free scones. Some say they’re magical. (Those people are me.)

I smile despite myself. Maybe his silence last night was just his zombie tiredness coming through. Maybe things aren’t weird between us.

Sounds delicious. Let me know if you need a taste tester.

His response comes quickly.

Be careful, Spreadsheet. I’ll take you up on that offer.

The use of my nickname sends a shiver through me and makes me feel flirty and bold.

I mean it. I can be there soon.

Pause. His answer pops up on the screen.

Only if you don’t say you regret last night.

I bite my lower lip. Do I? I told him things I shouldn’t have.

I spilled my real name and even more details that could get me kicked out of the program.

But then I think back to the way his fingers slid over mine as we shaped the pottery.

The way he held me on the beach as we listened to the waves. The kiss. I type in my answer.

I don’t.

Good. Me neither.

Another long pause as his dots appear and disappear.

Get over here. I have some scones that have your name on them. And I want a repeat of last night.

My stomach flutters at his words.

I’m on my way.

I climb in my car, and before I know it, I’m standing at the back door of the bakery. I reach for the keypad to type in the code and hesitate. Going inside right now feels heavy somehow. Weighted. Like I’m making some kind of commitment to Levi, and that scares me.

I’ve never been in a relationship. Before this weekend, I’d never even kissed a man. Do I really want to open this can of worms right now, while I’m supposed to be in hiding?

I wait a heartbeat before typing in the code and opening the door. I’ve already kissed him and told him my real name. What else can happen now? Levi’s not going to blab to anyone about why I’m here on Willow Shade. The trial will come, and I’ll be fine.

Levi grins at me as I enter his kitchen. “I get the SpongeBob T-shirt and shorts again? How lucky am I?”

I forgot I was lounging around my house in my laundry clothes. I walk over to him, even though he’s elbow deep in gluten-free flour. “I guess you get to see the casual me today.”

He grins at me, full dimple on display. “I’m glad, Claire.”

The way he says my name, like a caress, makes my insides turn to Jell-O. “Don’t call me that,” I scold, even though I like it. A lot.

He winks at me. “I promise, only when we’re alone.”

Levi turns back to his mixing bowl, his forearms flexing as he stirs the thick batter. “You’re just in time. I think I may have cracked the code on these gluten-free scones.”

I lean against the counter beside him, eyeing the mess of ingredients scattered across the workstation. “You mean to tell me there’s an actual code for gluten-free baking?”

“There is,” he says, mock serious. “It’s ancient and secret. Passed down by monks who lived without wheat.”

I laugh, the sound surprising even myself with how light it feels. “Right. And I bet they used almond flour from Costco too.”

He glances at me, eyes twinkling. “Only the holy kind.”

I nudge him with my elbow. “Can I help?”

“What if you get your SpongeBob shirt dirty?” he teases.

“I’ve survived worse.” I grab a whisk and reach for the bowl, but he moves it out of reach.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you think you’re doing with that whisk?”

“Is this not right?” I’m holding back a laugh, because I don’t know what I’m doing in the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure I’m freaking him out.

“Do you really want me to teach you how to make scones?”

I grin at him. “Just the parts that will get these in the oven so we can get on to more important things.”

He leans in slightly, flour dusting the edge of his shirt. His voice dips low, a little playful, a little serious, and it does something traitorous to my pulse. “All right. But I might need to guide your hands.”

Heat rises up my neck.

I hold his gaze for a second too long. “Like yesterday? Are we re-creating that Ghost movie again?”

He grins, but it fades just slightly at the edges. “Only if you promise not to ghost me after.”

I freeze, the mood shifting subtly between us. That weight is back, the one I felt before typing on the keypad. But I’m already here. I chose this. I chose him.

I put a hand on the edge of the counter, steadying myself as he rolls out the dough. “Levi, I’m not trying to play games with you. I’m here, right now. Do we really have to worry about what’s going to happen in the future?”

He doesn’t look at me right away. Instead, he grabs a round cutter and presses out a perfect scone shape. “I know you’re not playing games,” he says quietly. “But it still kind of feels like you’re standing halfway in the doorway. Like you’re already thinking about the exit.”

I chew on my lip, watching him place the scones on a parchment-lined tray. “I’ve never done this before.”

He glances at me. “Baking?”

“Relationships.”

That gets his full attention. He sets the cutter down. “I was right? You’ve never dated anyone?”

I shake my head. “There was never time. Or maybe I was just too scared. Or maybe I didn’t trust anyone enough.”

His eyes soften, but there’s still hurt lingering beneath. “And you trust me now?”

“I’m trying to.”

Silence stretches between us, charged and unspoken. Then he clears his throat and grabs the tray. “Well. Let’s get these in the oven before I start talking about my feelings like a Lifetime movie.”

“Hey,” I say, catching his arm. “You’re allowed to talk about your feelings.”

He turns and faces me fully now. We’re closer than before. The scent of vanilla and buttermilk clings to the air between us. “You scare me, Claire.”

That surprises me. “Me?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. Because I want more. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

I swallow hard. “What if I want more too? Even if I don’t know what that means yet.”

He studies me for a long moment. Then he lifts one gluten-free flour-dusted finger and touches the corner of my mouth. “You’ve got a little something right here.”

My insides flutter as a thousand butterflies take flight. “I do not.”

“You do.” He steps closer. “Want me to get it for you?”

I narrow my eyes, playful. “I swear, if you lick your thumb and wipe my face, I’m leaving.”

He grins, his mouth close enough to mine now that I can feel the heat of him. “Then I guess I better use a different method.”

His hand slides to my jaw, gentle but firm, and then he dips in, brushing his lips over mine.

It’s slow. Careful. But not hesitant.

He’s tasting me. Testing this. And I’m not running.

My hands find his chest, warm through the fabric of his shirt. He deepens the kiss, not urgent, just a quiet ache, full of everything we’ve both been afraid to admit.

When he pulls back, his voice is husky. “You taste like trouble.”

“Back at you,” I whisper.

He steps back, reluctantly, and turns to the oven to set the timer. “Twenty minutes until the scones are done.”

“That’s a long time. Whatever shall we do?” I can’t believe how flirty I’m being. This is a new side of me, and I have to admit, I kind of like it.

He glances over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Careful, Claire. You’re starting to sound like a bad influence.”

I grin. “Maybe I am.”