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Adam was about to pull away and chastise himself for such an impulsive move, but then Sydney’s hands were on his arms. She was holding on to him. Kissing him back.

Did she actually want this? It seemed that way. Did he dare…

His hands found her narrow waist, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, reveling in the warmth of her, the feel of her under his hands.

Her palms coasted higher, over his shoulders, until she laced her fingers together behind his neck and held on to him.

His heart pounded with the thrill of her attention and the knowledge that she wanted this, too.

Then his left butt cheek vibrated.

Not the time for an incoming message.

Sydney laughed, and just like that, the kiss was over. “I guess someone needs you more than me.”

A soft growl rumbled through him. “Stupid phone.”

Her eyes were full of light, sparkling with the sun that filled the sky. “That was…” She rolled her lips in, then took a breath. “ Nice .”

He nodded, no words for what that had been, because nice didn’t begin to cover it. “I should go check on the bread.”

“Okay.” She leaned against the door, sticking her hands in her back pockets and focusing on the dogs, who hadn’t moved.

He went into the kitchen. The bread was fine. He pulled out his phone to see who’d ruined the moment.

He scowled at the screen. Veronika. Again. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Nothing to say for yourself?

Why was she texting him? He hadn’t had a chance to figure out how she knew about the bachelor auction, but he wasn’t an idiot.

He knew she probably had an alert set up for his name, should it ever appear online or in social media.

No doubt the town or one of its citizens had posted something about him in regard to the auction. Maybe a picture.

There had been plenty of phones in the air at the auction. He exhaled. Whatever, didn’t matter. It was his business.

What Veronika thought didn’t matter. They were over. Done.

He briefly considered texting her back, but that was exactly what she wanted. To pull him in. Get him riled up. Wasn’t going to happen. He had nothing to say to her anyway.

He tucked his phone into his pocket and looked up to see Sydney standing there.

“You okay?”

He nodded, resting one hand on the countertop. Impulsively, he decided to share. “It’s my ex.”

“Ah. Let me guess—she’s come to her senses and wants you back?”

“I don’t know what she wants.”

“Well, her timing sucks.”

That lifted one corner of his mouth. “Yeah, it does. The dogs still sleeping?”

“Like logs. Whatever that means.” She tipped her chin toward the oven. “How’s the bread? Smells like heaven in here.”

“It’s looking good.”

They stared at each for a few long, weird seconds. Then he snapped out of whatever bewilderment had taken hold of him. “I should get that stir-fry going.”

“Right. Let me help. I can cut vegetables or whatever.”

“Great.” He really needed to be occupied right now. He started pulling things from the fridge that he’d bought in anticipation of this meal. Snow peas, carrots, bean sprouts and a pack of flank steak. He grabbed an onion from a bowl on the counter, then found a cutting board and a good knife.

He set the onion, the cutting board, and the knife in front of Sydney. “Long, thin strips.”

She nodded. “I can do that.”

“You want rice?”

“I’m all right without it, but don’t skip it on my account if you do.”

“Nah, I can do without.”

“Fair warning, when that bread is done, I want a slice with butter immediately.”

He laughed. “There’s really no better way.” He started washing the carrots but glanced over to see how she was getting on with the onion.

She seemed to be contemplating it. She looked up and caught him watching. “I’m not doing it right, am I? I’ll be honest, I never know how to start an onion.”

He set the carrots aside. “You want me to show you what I do?”

She nodded and offered him the knife. “More than you know.”

He gave her a quick demonstration, then turned it all back to her. She was a fast learner, something he admired. Together, they got everything prepped, working well side by side.

That didn’t surprise him. Sydney was so easy to be around, so open to being shown things, eager to learn. He loved her attitude and her willingness.

When he added oil to the wok and heated it, she watched, clearly interested. As he added ingredients and tossed them, she sucked in a breath. “You do that just like a chef. Did you work in a restaurant?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m all self-taught.” He gave a little shrug. “I probably spend too much time watching cooking shows.”

“I think it’s amazing.” She leaned closer. Close enough that he caught of whiff of her perfume. She looked at him. “Have you ever thought about opening your own restaurant?”

“Sure, I’ve thought about it. I don’t think I have the chops for that yet. No experience. Every once in a while, I get a hankering for a food truck though. I could do that, no problem. Worked on one when I was in high school, on the weekends, just helping out. It was hard work, but I loved it.”

“Yeah?” She grinned. “What would you serve?”

He shook his head. “It’s a silly idea.”

She fluttered her lashes at him. “Come on, tell me. I won’t laugh.”

It was a dumb idea. Veronika had told him as much. Not one worth talking about, that was for sure, but there was something so sincere in Sydney’s voice. Tentatively, he said, “Baked potatoes. With all kinds of toppings.”

She blinked, her mouth rounding. “Seriously?” He was about to frown when she clapped her hands together. “That is brilliant.”

“You think so?”

“Heck, yes! A baked potato is basically a blank canvas. You could put anything on it. Barbecue, pizza, chili. I mean, the possibilities…”

He nodded, suddenly grinning. “Yeah, exactly. I’d have a pizza one. I’d do one with baked beans, the way they do in the U.K. Obviously, chili and cheese. Oh, and what do you think about this—Thanksgiving dinner. On a baked potato. Turkey, stuffing, corn, gravy and butter.”

“Genius.” She put her hand to her stomach. “Cook faster. I’m starving.”

He laughed. “It’s pretty much done.” He pulled the wok off the heat and got plates out. He took a look in the oven. “Pretty sure the bread is, too.”

He grabbed oven mitts and took the bread out, setting the tray on the stove, then used the mitts to lift the loaves onto a cooling rack. “They’ll still be warm by the time we’re done eating.”

“Okay, I can wait. Now, come on,” she said. “Tell me the rest of the dream. What would it be called?”

“The food truck? I don’t know. I really don’t. Has to be something catchy and clever but not too cutesy.”

“How would you serve them? In those paper baskets?”

“I think so. Those are easy to walk around with.” He portioned out the stir-fry onto the plates, giving himself a bit more.

“Definitely. Have you thought about also doing sweet potatoes as possible dessert options?”

“No, but I am now.” That was a good idea. And how easy would that be to add on?

“Where are the forks?”

“Second drawer from the left of the sink.”

She found them and grabbed two.

He stuck the empty wok into the sink to deal with later. “You want to eat out on the deck? I don’t have a table or chairs. We’ll have to sit on the steps.”

“That works for me.”

It would also mean they’d have to sit next to each other. That worked for him. “I can take the plates if you grab two bottles of water from the fridge.”

“Deal.”

They went out and settled on the steps, leaving a little room between them for the water bottles. The dogs were awake but hadn’t moved much.

He gestured at Sugarbelle with his fork. “I don’t think she’ll give you much trouble tonight. Probably sleep most of it.”

“I’m thinking Mackie will, too.” Sydney took a bite of the stir-fry and made a happy sound. After she swallowed, she said, “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” He was happy. Happier than he’d been in a long time, including most of the years he’d been with Veronika.

Sydney was so easy to be around. But a little voice inside him said things were always easy at first.

He didn’t want to listen to that voice, but he also didn’t want to get his heart broken again.

Of course, there was no future for this relationship, so what was he worried about? She was human. He wasn’t. And he was leaving in a little over five months.

Sydney laughed, holding up a piece of onion on the end of her fork. “Look how sad that is. Looks like it was cut with a chain saw.”

He chuckled. “It’s not that bad.”

She nudged him as she ate it. “You’re just being kind.”

Her playful way with him made him want to kiss her again, but he reminded himself he was leaving.

Five months, one week, and three days from now. But who was counting?