Page 34 of The Prime-Time Experiment

Tyler blinked. “You’re what?”

“Cooking,” Declan repeated.

“… On purpose?”

Declan pulled something out onto the counter. “Yes.”

Tyler let out a short laugh, already walking after him. “Alright, that feels like it’s about my comment.”

“It is.”

Tyler leaned against the counter, watching him for a second. “We still ordering takeout later, yeah?”

“No.”

“We are,” Tyler said easily.

Declan didn’t respond, already moving, already committed. He headed back toward the kitchen without waiting to see if they followed, pulling open the fridge like he had something to prove now.

Behind him, he could feel Ebony linger for a second longer before turning back toward the gym. Toward what she’d changed.

Declan reached for a chopping board, setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Don’t burn the house down,” Tyler called, not moving from where he stood.

Declan let out a quiet breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Tyler said. “That’s why I’m concerned.”

“It’s better,” Ebony said simply.

Declan stilled for half a second, caught less by the words themselves and more by the certainty behind them. He nodded once to himself before he even realised he was doing it, despite the fact she couldn’t see him.

Yeah, it was. And if it worked for her… His grip tightened slightly on the edge of the counter before he forced it to ease, then it could work for Riley too.

Chapter 8

Rhythm

Riley

Riley slowed as she approached the property, her gaze moving across the surrounding houses before settling on his. Everything nearby felt compressed, built upward and inward to accommodate the density of the city.

This did not.

Declan’s house sat back from the street just enough to create a quiet separation between the outside world and everything inside it.

It was a modern Queenslander, but restrained in its interpretation. White brick instead of timber, clean and deliberate, the brightness softened by deep brown accents that framed the structure rather than competing with it. The wraparound porch traced the perimeter of the house, wide enough to be functional but also aesthetic. Vines had begun to climb along sections of the exterior, threading through the architecture, adding a feminine softness she hadn’t expected to see from a single bachelor.

She paused briefly at the gate, her attention tracking the exterior in a single, efficient sweep. There were no immediate visual disruptions or competing noises reaching her before she could enter the space.

That alone reduced some of the initial strain. Still, the faint fluttering sensation beneath her skin remained.

Riley recognised it immediately, not as emotion exactly, but as a physiological response pattern similar to how she had felt during the television segment. Heightened environmental awareness, restlessness beneath the surface of her movements. The uncomfortable sense that her nervous system was bracing slightly ahead of her conscious thoughts.

Too many unknown variables.

She adjusted the strap of her bag against her shoulder instead, grounding herself in the familiar weight of her laptop and files resting against her side. Her clothing sat comfortably. She had chosen her shirt to be intentionally oversized, loose enough that the fabric stayed slightly off her skin when she moved instead of catching against it.