Page 49 of The Sugar and Spice Kitchen

“He’s definitely getting fancy on us,” Jackson said.

“Smells an awful lot like your grandfather’s cake,” George said, spooning sour cream into his bowl.

“It is.” Cole moved on to frost the cake, working in smooth, even strokes from the center out.

“First time I’ve made it myself. I was thinking of entering it in the bake-off.”

The table went quiet for exactly one second.

“What he means,” Jackson said, reaching for his water glass, “is that he wants to keep fighting with Emily Whitaker.”

Cole’s jaw tightened. “That is not why I’m entering.”

“No?” Tyler raised an eyebrow, grinning.

Cole hesitated, then admitted, “… It’s not the only reason.”

George chuckled while Tyler and Jackson whistled and ribbed him. Cole forced a smirk and kept slicing the cake, trying to look unbothered.

But inside, his mind was already betraying him.

Emily Whitaker had been a thorn in his side ever since they were ten years old. Sharp-tongued, competitive, never willing to back down. She still looked at him like he was the enemy every time he walked into her bakery.

So why the hell did he keep thinking about her?

Last night, when the station was quiet and he was alone, the fantasy crashed down on him. In his mind, there was no rivalry. No sharp words. Just Emily underneath him, soft and gasping, her fingers in his hair as he worshipped every inch of her body. He imagined spreading her thighs slowly, licking her slowly, savoring her like she was something sacred instead of the woman who drove him crazy. He pictured her moaning his name—not in anger, but in pleasure—while he took his time with her. Slow, deep thrusts. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands pulling him closer like she never wanted him to leave.

He’d come hard in his shower just thinking about the way her back would arch if he sucked on her nipples while buried inside her. He’d stroked himself slowly, drawing it out, whispering her name like a prayer in the dark.

And now here he was, pretending she was nothing but an annoyance.

“I’ve tried to let it go,” Cole said, keeping his voice casual as he plated another slice. “But Emily seems to have other plans.”

He shrugged, trying to sound indifferent.

She’s maddening. Competitive. Impossible.

But even as he thought it, his mind flashed back to the fantasy version of her—flushed, trembling—looking up at him with soft eyes as she whispered please, Cole… right before she came around him.

He had to adjust his stance behind the counter.

“And now you’re back for good,” Tyler said. “Or close enough.”

“And now I’m back,” Cole agreed, without committing to the “for good” part.

“So you guys just can’t let it go?” Tyler asked. He wasn’t ribbing Cole. He was genuinely curious, the way he got sometimes, looking at a thing straight on without judgment.

Cole considered the question honestly. “I’ve tried. But Emily, Zach, a couple of others—they didn’t let me forget it when I was a kid, and they don’t seem to want to let me forget it now.” He sliced the cake into squares, the knife going through clean and even. “I didn’t set the rules. I’m just playing the game.”

“Mmm.” Jackson sounded unconvinced.

Cole plated the cake and set it in the middle of the table. The men leaned in. Jackson broke off a corner piece and ate it without ceremony. His expression shifted.

“Cole,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“This is incredible.”