“OKAY! Let’s do this!” Amy declared with far too much enthusiasm, hijacking the moment before I could summon another half-baked protest.
Somehow, within the next ten minutes, I found myself wriggled into a sleek black boatneck dress—one of the few things in my closet that made me feel remotely composed.
My heart, however, was anything but.
I helped Amy and Liam carry the cakes down to his SUV, gripping the boxes like they were made of glass.
The vehicle gleamed beneath the streetlights, all polished black and masculine lines, the kind of car that fit the billionaire beside me.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, eyeing the spotless interior like it was a trap. I wasn’t exactly in the habit of hauling sugar bombs in luxury tanks.
“What if something spills?”
“I trust you,” Liam said simply—his voice low, his eyes warmer than they had any right to be.
He looked at me like I wasn’t holding cupcakes… like I was holding something more fragile. More dangerous.
And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.
I swallowed hard, pretending not to notice how his gaze lingered just a beat too long, burning into my skin like invisible ink I didn’t know how to read.
Back upstairs, while I was trying to gather the last of our supplies and pull myself together, Amy pounced.
Of course she did.
“I really don’t think this is the time for this conversation,” I warned, shoving frosting piping bags into a box a little more violently than necessary.
“Why didn’t you tell me you met someone so cute?” she whispered, bouncing on her heels. “And perfect for you?”
I gawked at her. “You don’t even know him.” I hissed. “I barely know him! It’s been two days. Two! That’s not lying, Amy—that’s called being sane,–basic precaution!”
Amy let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. You’re forgiven—this time. But you have to at least try to open up to this one.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Trust me. After hearing how he treated me the first time, you’ll be the one kicking his ass.”
Amy gave me that look—the one that always made me feel like I was the straight man in a rom-com she was secretly directing.
“You say that,” she sing-songed, wiggling her brows like a cartoon matchmaker, “but your cheeks go red every time he looks at you.”
I groaned. “Can we focus? Please? We’re late!”
We hustled to load the last of the boxes, hands full of clinking pastry trays and the delicate pressure of a thousand unsaid things. But just as I bent to grab the final stack, a terrible thought smacked me in the face like a rogue oven mitt.
“Oh—one more thing!” I whirled around, breath short. “Please—please sit up front with him?”
Amy’s laugh exploded so loud it nearly shattered the box she was holding.
“Um, no. He’s your acquaintance, remember?” she said with smug innocence. “I don’t know him.”
I stared at her. She stared right back, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Amy.” My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, already sauntering toward the backseat like she’d just won an Olympic gold. “You’re the baker. He’s the chauffeur. I’m just the humble plus-one enjoying the ride.”
I groaned again. Loudly this time.
And as I shut the apartment door behind us and followed her downstairs, I felt it—that low, anticipatory flutter that had nothing to do with cupcakes or time.
It was him.
Waiting in that car.
Unavoidable. Magnetic. Dangerous.
God help me.
Because the second I climbed into that passenger seat, I knew…
I wouldn’t be able to pretend I didn’t feel it too.
Inside the SUV was sleek, spacious, and intimidatingly spotless. The kind of car that looked allergic to frosting, sprinkles, and human error.
It smelled like leather, coffee, and something faintly masculine—Liam’s cologne, maybe.
It was subtle but so... him.
Clean. Cool. Confident.
I slipped into the passenger seat, clutching the last cake box like it was a riot shield.
My knees brushed the console.
His arm brushed mine. Too close. Too charged.
I tried not to breathe too deeply.
Tried not to look at the veins in his forearms as he gripped the steering wheel.
Or the way his one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift.
Tried to ignore the fact that he was being so calm and quiet while my heart beat like a war drum in my chest.
He looked so at home here—like luxury was his second language.
Amy flopped into the back seat, humming to herself and already playing with the settings on the touchscreen.
He started the car, and we slipped into the flow of traffic. A quiet tension settled between us—not uncomfortable, just... tight.
Alive.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks again for this. I owe you.”
Liam glanced sideways at me, lips twitching. “You keep saying that like I didn’t offer.”
My fingers tightened on the box in my lap. “Still.”
The silence between us stretched, humming with unsaid things.
I could feel him looking at me. Not in the polite, curious way strangers look. But in that low, unreadable way that made my stomach twist.
Like he was trying to figure something out.
Like I was a question he didn’t quite know how to ask.
As soon as Chloe climbed into the passenger seat, the car filled with a scent that made my jaw clench.
Sweet—too sweet.
A mix of warm vanilla from the cakes and something softer, floral, unmistakably her. Chloe.
Hell.
I didn’t know if it was the sugar or her skin that was messing with my head, but I wanted a taste of it. All of it. Mostly her.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening.
I should’ve handed over the car, let them take the driver and be done with it.
Instead, I dismissed him. Told him I’d handle this myself. Like I was doing anyone a favor.
Who the fuck was I kidding?
This wasn’t about cupcakes. This wasn’t about being a good man.
This was about Chloe.
And the way she smelled. The way her arms brushed mine when she sat too close. The way she kept biting that bottom lip like it offended her.
I shifted in my seat, jaw tight.
She had no idea what she did to me.
No idea how close I’d come to tossing her over my shoulder back at that apartment and laying down some consequences for opening the door to strangers in nothing but a pair of black laced underwear.
I sighed under my breath, low and frustrated.
The truth was, I wasn’t even supposed to be here.
If Scott hadn’t called me this afternoon—like a man possessed, even though he’d barely regained consciousness after the accident—I probably wouldn’t be.
He’d been right, and I hated it.
The Sweets sisters were tangled in this mess because of my family. Supporting them wasn’t a favor—it was the least I could do.
Still, that didn’t explain why I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see her. Why I showed up myself. Why I cared how she looked in that robe—or how she looked now in that black dress that hugged her too well.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath, so low neither girl could hear it. I focused on the road ahead like it might give me clarity.
But beside me, Chloe shifted, crossing her legs and exhaling softly.
My peripheral vision caught the curve of her knee, the rise of her chest, the flutter of her lashes.
No clarity. Only heat.
From the backseat, Amy finally broke the silence.
“So, Liam—what do you do?”
I smirked faintly.
“Cut people off and crash bakeries, apparently.”
Amy laughed, delighted. Chloe shot me a glare that only made her more edible.
“I run a few companies,” I added, keeping my tone deliberately vague. “Mostly investments. Logistics. Real estate. Boring stuff.”
“Rich guy things,” Amy teased. “Got it.”
I felt Chloe glance at me again, quick and skeptical.
She didn’t trust easily. Smart girl.
But part of me wanted to earn it—no, claim it. Slowly. Thoroughly.
As if sensing the shift in the air, Chloe adjusted her posture, putting another few inches between us.
Smart girl.
Too bad I liked the chase.
