Tyler took the string, but not before giving Ellie a look that made it abundantly clear he was more interested in the last part of her invitation than the next stage of his culinary education. “Greedy, huh?” he repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Good. Because I was planning on being pretty selfish with you tonight myself.” He caught her hand before she could get too far away, bringing it to his mouth for a quick kiss against her knuckles. There was still a faint trace of flour along the side of her wrist, and he brushed his thumb over it before letting her go. “Although I'm starting to think you've got a pretty effective system here. Get me all distracted with kisses, then put me right back to work. It's almost impressive.”

He hadn't missed the change in her expression when she'd asked about tomorrow, either. The little crease between her eyebrows, the brief downturn of her mouth, the way her fingers had tightened around his hand—all of it had been familiar enough that he hadn't needed much explanation. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about leaving himself, especially when he'd only just arrived and they were finally getting a proper evening together. The season was still young, and he was glad to be back in the middle of it, but the return to separate routines had been an adjustment after spending so much of the summer together. He'd gotten used to having time for the little things, including mornings when neither of them had to think about how soon the other would be heading out the door. Now those mornings required considerably more coordination, and sometimes they simply weren't possible.

“Eleven, probably,” he answered, his tone easy but without the teasing he'd been using a moment earlier. “I've got to be back at the rink by one, so if I leave around eleven, I'll have plenty of time to get down there and get sorted.” He glanced toward the clock, then back at her, his mouth curving slightly. “Which means you're not getting rid of me first thing in the morning, sweetheart. Sorry to disappoint you.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his hand settle briefly against the back of her neck. “I'll get up with you, even if you insist on being awake at some completely offensive hour. We can have breakfast before you open, or I'll come down here once you're settled and steal ten minutes of your morning. Either way, I'm eating one of those things with you before I go.”

The arrangement suited him well enough, particularly because he knew better than to imagine Ellie's morning would stop simply because he wanted to spend it with her. The bakery had its own schedule, and she couldn't rearrange an entire opening around his departure any more than he could casually move a practice. He could make himself useful if there was something she needed, or stay out of the way if there wasn't. What he didn't want was to spend their remaining time tonight already treating tomorrow's goodbye as though it had happened. He gave her waist a brief squeeze before turning his attention toward the counter again. “And we've still got tonight,” he added, a little smile returning. “So unless you've got some secret plans to throw me out after dinner, I intend to make myself very comfortable on your couch.”

He held the string between his fingers and studied the remaining roll with considerably more interest than he'd expected to have in a piece of pastry. The first spiral looked remarkably good, its layers clearly defined and the apple filling tucked neatly between them. He'd watched Ellie demonstrate the technique carefully, but there was something about the apparent simplicity of it that made him suspicious. He'd seen enough skilled people make difficult things look easy to know that watching wasn't quite the same as doing. Still, he had the advantage of very clear instructions, a forgiving recipe, and a teacher who seemed more interested in encouraging him than documenting his failures. He slid the string beneath the next marked section, taking a moment to make sure it was positioned properly before lifting both ends.

“Okay, so under, cross, and pull,” he murmured, arranging the string above the dough. He drew the ends in opposite directions, initially with the caution of someone half-expecting the entire roll to collapse beneath the pressure. Instead, the string slipped cleanly through the soft dough, meeting almost no resistance until the final little section gave way. Tyler stared at the result for a moment, then looked down at the string with an expression of genuine surprise. “Oh, that's good,” he said, his eyebrows lifting. “That's really good. Why the hell does that work so well?” He leaned closer to inspect the newly separated spiral, visibly pleased that he hadn't flattened it into something resembling a sad little sandwich.

He lifted the piece carefully, supporting the bottom with his fingertips before transferring it to the prepared pan. The spiral wasn't quite as tidy as the first one, and a small bit of apple had shifted toward the outer edge, but it held together well enough that he didn't feel compelled to interfere with it. He adjusted its position to leave room for the others, then stepped back just enough to appreciate the result. “Look at that,” he said, grinning. “Second one and we're already producing commercially viable goods.” He picked up the string again, considering its remarkable effectiveness with renewed respect. “I'm telling you, this is the kind of thing that makes you question why anybody bothers inventing expensive equipment. Somebody figured out you could do this with string and just decided that was good enough.”

He had the next section marked out and was preparing to slide the string beneath it when another thought occurred to him. “And I haven't forgotten about those stickers, by the way,” he said, glancing toward Ellie. “I'm serious. Give me a few of those encouraging bees and I'll see how long it takes before somebody asks where I got them.” He could picture the reaction in the locker room, particularly if he attached one to a water bottle and refused to explain why it was there. There would be questions, undoubtedly, followed by a disproportionate amount of interest once somebody realized there were multiple designs available. He knew his teammates well enough to suspect that at least a few would become competitive about it entirely on principle. “Actually, you should give me a whole sheet. I'll start handing them out when somebody does something impressive, and we'll see how long it takes before the coaches tell me to knock it off.”

The second cut came easier, and by the third he had stopped approaching the string as though it were some delicate instrument requiring specialized certification. His hands moved with a little more confidence, slipping it beneath each mark, crossing the ends, and pulling smoothly until another spiral separated from the roll. The process had a satisfying rhythm, and he understood why Ellie liked having tasks that allowed her to concentrate on a simple movement for a while. The results were immediate, visible, and pleasantly uncomplicated. There was no waiting for a replay or wondering whether he'd made the right decision a fraction of a second too late. He could see exactly what he'd done, make a small adjustment, and try again. “You know what?” he said, inspecting another clean cut. “I think I like this part even more than the butter. Don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to maintain.”

A particularly generous section of filling made the next spiral slightly wider than its neighbors, and Tyler regarded it with a thoughtful expression before deciding there was nothing especially wrong with that. He settled it into the pan, leaving enough space around it for the dough to expand, then used the back of one finger to ease a stray apple piece away from the edge. The unevenness bothered him less now that he understood how much the finished buns would change during their final rise and time in the oven. He wasn't trying to produce something flawless so much as something that would actually taste good and look like Ellie had intended. It helped that he'd become invested in the result beyond the prospect of eating it. He wanted to see the whole thing through, particularly now that he'd gotten past the point where every new instruction sounded like an opportunity to embarrass himself.

“By the way, I've been thinking about that crumble,” he said, moving to the next mark. “You might regret offering to teach me. Once I know how to make something, I'm going to make it until you're completely sick of it.” The prospect of cooking for her in Denver appealed to him for several reasons, not least because he'd enjoyed having her spend more time at his place over the past year. He liked finding her things in the bathroom, waking up to discover she'd migrated toward his side of the bed, and opening the refrigerator to find something she'd brought from the bakery because she'd decided he needed to try it. He also liked that she was comfortable enough there to help herself to whatever she wanted without asking. “But I can handle a shopping list,” he continued, flashing her a grin. “I'm not promising I'll understand why there are six different kinds of apples, but I can follow instructions. You've seen my work.”

The string slipped through another section, and he transferred the resulting spiral to the pan with increasingly practiced hands. He'd made several by now, and the long roll was beginning to shrink into a collection of individual buns arranged across the parchment. The smell of apples and cinnamon was becoming particularly difficult to ignore, especially with the promise of dinner waiting somewhere beyond the remaining work. His stomach gave a quiet complaint, and he glanced toward his phone with an expression of mild resignation. He'd meant to finalize the order several minutes earlier, but apparently learning how to cut pastry had become an unexpectedly absorbing activity. “Remind me to actually order our food when I'm done with this,” he said. “Otherwise, we're going to end up eating these for dinner, and you'll be forced to admit that my original plan was perfectly reasonable.”

He worked through the remaining sections with the occasional adjustment, growing comfortable enough that he no longer needed to examine every piece as though awaiting an official judgment. One came out a little wider than he'd intended, another slightly lopsided where the filling had gathered unevenly, but all of them held their shape. The final end piece was considerably less impressive than its companions, a squat little spiral with an enthusiastic amount of apple showing through one side. Tyler regarded it with a look of amused consideration, turning it slightly between his fingertips before placing it in the remaining space. “Well, that one's mine,” he announced, nodding toward the odd little bun. “That's the one with personality. I feel like we should give it a name.”

He set the string aside and studied the pans, counting the spirals before looking toward Ellie with an expression of considerable satisfaction. The finished arrangement looked far more legitimate than he'd expected when he'd first walked into the bakery and discovered he was being recruited into an impromptu baking project. Some were neater than others, but there was something appealing about the visible evidence that they'd made them together rather than producing a batch identical in every detail. He could already imagine which one he intended to claim tomorrow morning, assuming Ellie didn't insist that the strange little end piece needed to be sacrificed in the name of quality control. “All right,” he said, rubbing his palms together with satisfaction. “That's a pretty respectable night's work. I'm officially adding pastry production to my résumé.” His grin widened as he glanced toward the notebook. “Right underneath professional hockey player. Obviously.”

He reached for the towel and wiped his fingers, finding a stubborn patch of cinnamon sugar near the base of his thumb that required a second attempt. Once his hands were clean, he turned back toward Ellie, his attention settling on her with an entirely different sort of interest. He'd spent the last several minutes concentrating on the dough, but now there was nothing requiring him to keep his hands to himself, and he saw no reason to continue exercising such unreasonable restraint. He stepped closer, one hand finding her waist while the other settled lightly against the counter beside her. “Now,” he said, his voice dropping into that familiar, deliberately charming register, “I believe there's still some unresolved business concerning my compensation.”

He didn't immediately close the distance, enjoying the opportunity to look at her properly for a moment. There was flour on her apron, a little color in her cheeks, and the familiar warmth of the kitchen surrounding them. He liked her dressed up, liked the occasions when she made a point of looking especially beautiful, but he was equally susceptible to her standing in the middle of a bakery after a long day with her hair coming loose and her sleeves pushed out of the way. She had always been able to distract him without making any particular effort, and the past year had done nothing to diminish that. If anything, he'd become less inclined to pretend he wasn't looking. “You're very pretty, you know that?” he said, smiling as his thumb moved lightly against her side. “Terrible habit of making me forget what I'm supposed to be doing.”

He leaned in and kissed her, slow enough to enjoy it without feeling any obligation to turn the moment into something more. His hand curved comfortably against the small of her back, drawing her a little closer as he let the kiss linger. He'd been thinking about doing exactly that several times while they worked, particularly when she'd reached up to move his hair or stood close enough that her shoulder brushed his. Now he had the opportunity, he was perfectly content to take advantage of it. When he eased back, his forehead remained near hers for another moment, the corner of his mouth lifting. “There,” he murmured. “Payment received. Excellent working conditions. I'm withdrawing my complaint.”

He gave her another quick kiss before straightening, though his hand remained at her waist. The mention of leaving tomorrow had stayed somewhere in the back of his mind, not as something he was dwelling on but as a reminder of how quickly these visits could pass. He wasn't particularly interested in letting that ruin the evening, and he doubted Ellie wanted to spend the next several hours watching the clock either. Still, he understood why she hadn't liked thinking about it. He didn't much enjoy packing his overnight bag and heading back down the mountain when they'd only just gotten comfortable together. “Hey,” he said, catching her attention again, his tone easy but a little quieter. “I know tomorrow comes around fast. I'm not crazy about it either.”

He brushed his thumb gently along her waist, considering the schedule he already knew and the parts he still needed to check. “But I'll look at next week tonight, and we'll figure out when we're seeing each other again. If the change doesn't mess with our plans, great. If it does, we'll find another day.” He wasn't promising to rearrange obligations he couldn't control, and he knew Ellie wouldn't expect him to. He simply wanted her to know that the next visit was already something he was planning around rather than an afterthought. His expression softened into a small smile before he added, “And if you do come down, I'll make sure there's something decent for dinner. Might even have a go at that crumble if you're willing to risk it.”

He let the subject settle there, without trying to turn a perfectly ordinary disappointment into a conversation that required some enormous resolution. They both knew the schedule would be difficult at times, and he wasn't going to insult either of them by pretending otherwise. He'd have games, practices, travel, and obligations that occasionally interfered with plans he'd rather keep. Ellie had a business that demanded her attention whether he was in town or not, and sometimes their free hours simply wouldn't match. They could be frustrated about that without making it anybody's fault. Tonight, at least, there was no reason to spend more time discussing the hours they wouldn't have tomorrow than enjoying the ones they had now.

“Besides,” he continued, the familiar amusement returning to his expression, “you've still got me for the rest of the night, and I'm planning to be extremely annoying about it.” He reached for his phone, finally giving the dinner order the attention it deserved. The burgers and fries were still sitting in his cart, and he checked the selections before adding an extra order of fries with a small, satisfied nod. He'd already learned that estimating the appropriate number of potatoes for two people was a surprisingly complicated business, particularly when one of those people regarded the other's portion as an opportunity for comparative research. “And I'm ordering enough food that you won't have to conduct an investigation into whether my fries taste better than yours,” he added, glancing toward Ellie. “Although I know you will anyway. It's one of your more predictable criminal tendencies.”

He submitted the order to the bakery's address, checked that the delivery instructions were correct, and set his phone aside. The estimate gave them enough time to get the buns ready for their final rise and possibly clear some of the remaining mess before the food arrived. He wasn't especially bothered by the prospect of eating in the bakery, either. There was something appealing about having the place to themselves after hours, with the warm lights in the front window and no customers interrupting every few minutes. It wasn't the sort of date most people would have planned in advance, but he'd enjoyed the evening more than enough to consider it a success. He'd gotten to see Ellie in her element, learned something useful, made a respectable contribution to a batch of pastries, and collected a few kisses along the way. He'd had significantly worse nights.

“Dinner's ordered,” he announced, sliding the phone into his pocket. “Burgers, fries, extra fries, and absolutely no responsibility for either of us to make another decision about food tonight.” He looked down at the pans, then toward the remaining supplies on the counter. There were a few utensils waiting to be washed, some stray flour that had collected near the notebook, and the inevitable sticky spots left behind by the apple filling. He reached for the scraper and began gathering the flour into a manageable little pile, careful to keep it away from the prepared buns. “So, where do these need to go while they rise? Because I can move them wherever you want, and then I'm officially clocking out.”

He carried the used bowls to the sink, rinsing away the remaining traces of cinnamon and sugar before setting them aside to wash properly. It was easy enough work, and he'd rather help finish it now than leave Ellie facing another round of cleanup once they were ready to go home. The warm water felt good against his hands, which had been slightly sticky despite his earlier efforts with the towel. He took his time with the dishes, stacking the clean utensils neatly before drying his hands and turning back toward the counter. The kitchen already looked considerably more organized, although he suspected there would be another little mess once the buns came out of the oven and Ellie started working on the frosting. He wasn't going to complain about that. He was beginning to understand that excellent baked goods came with a certain amount of unavoidable chaos.

With the immediate cleanup handled, Tyler rested his hip against the counter and looked toward the front room. The little tables beyond the kitchen doorway were empty, their surfaces reflecting the soft amber lights from the autumn display. He liked the idea of sitting there with Ellie while they waited for dinner, especially after watching her spend so much of the evening standing. His own legs were beginning to appreciate the prospect of sitting down, too, the accumulated fatigue from practice settling more noticeably now that he wasn't occupied with something. He'd had a good session earlier, but it had been demanding enough that he could feel it in his thighs whenever he stayed in one position too long. Tomorrow would be another busy day, and for once he was looking forward to an evening that required absolutely nothing athletic beyond lifting a fork.

He glanced toward Ellie again, his expression softening with familiar affection. “And for the record, I meant what I said about being greedy with you tonight,” he told her, the words delivered with the easy confidence of someone who had no intention of pretending he wasn't looking forward to having her to himself. “I'm claiming my usual spot on the couch, I'm stealing at least half the blanket, and you're going to have to put up with me keeping an arm around you for most of the evening.” He paused, considering the arrangement with exaggerated seriousness. “Actually, you know what? You can have the blanket. I'm generous like that. But I'm keeping you.”

He smiled, then reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers with the kind of casual familiarity that had become second nature between them. The contact was warm and uncomplicated, a small pleasure after the afternoon he'd spent surrounded by teammates and the evening drive that had followed. He could hear the refrigerator humming behind them, the faint music still drifting from the front of the shop, and the occasional car passing along the street outside. The bakery smelled like cinnamon and butter, and the finished rolls were waiting for the next stage of a process he'd apparently become unusually invested in. He was comfortable, pleasantly tired, and hungry enough that he was beginning to hope the burgers arrived exactly when the app promised. It was a good combination.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Tell me where these little masterpieces need to go, and then come sit with me for a bit. We've got dinner on the way, the rest of the night to ourselves, and I think you've officially spent enough time on your feet.” His mouth curved into a crooked grin as he glanced toward the pans one last time. “Besides, I need a break. I've been working incredibly hard, and my union representative is starting to ask questions.” He lifted her hand to his mouth for another absent kiss, then added, “And if you want to be greedy about me tonight, El, you're in luck. I'm not planning on going anywhere until I absolutely have to.”

Ellie’s fingers curled lightly around his as he kissed her knuckles, her smile turning a little less innocent at his accusation. “Almost impressive? You’ve made an entire batch of buns, and I’ve barely had to leave your side. I think I’m doing beautifully.” She let her hand linger in his for another moment before releasing it so he could take the string. The warmth of his mouth remained against her skin, and she brushed her thumb absently over the place he had kissed while looking down at the first spiral in the pan.

Eleven was better than she had been imagining. She hadn’t realized she’d already pictured him gathering his things before the sun was properly up until he gave her an actual time and some of the disappointment eased from her face. “Oh. We can have breakfast, then.” Her voice brightened with the discovery, and she tipped her face toward the kiss he pressed to her forehead. “Winnie’s coming in tomorrow. Once we’ve got everything out, I can sit down with you for a little while.” She rested her hand against his side, considering the morning with considerably more enthusiasm. “You don’t have to get up when I do, though. You can stay warm and comfortable and then come downstairs looking offensively well rested.”

His assurance that they still had tonight brought her eyes back to his. “No secret plans,” she promised. “Unless you count putting my cold feet under your legs, but I thought that was understood by now.” She gave his waist a small squeeze before turning toward the counter with him. Having an hour to look forward to in the morning helped. She could leave tomorrow where it belonged for a while, particularly when there were still twelve buns to finish and a perfectly good boyfriend standing within reach.

She watched his first attempt with the string quietly, letting him follow the demonstration without adding a second set of instructions over the ones he was already repeating to himself. When it slipped cleanly through, her smile appeared almost as quickly as his. “There you go.” His surprised question made her laugh. “Because it pulls inward from both sides instead of pressing down on the whole thing. You get to keep all your lovely layers.” She leaned closer to admire the spiral, then looked up at him. “You’re allowed to be pleased. That was a very good one.”

He supported it properly on the way to the pan, and Ellie stepped aside to give him room, watching with the quiet satisfaction of someone whose instructions had actually been heard. “Leave a little space there. They’ll puff up and get friendly later.” Once he had settled it, she nudged the pan farther onto the clear section of counter. “And yes, sometimes the cheap little thing works best. Although I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make that argument to my mixer. It was expensive, and I need it to believe in itself.”

At the renewed request for stickers, she turned toward the shallow drawer beside her notebook. “You’re serious.” The pleasure in her voice made it sound more like a discovery than a question. She opened it and sorted through a small stack of sheets until she found the bees, round and cheerful with tiny wings and encouraging expressions. “Here. A whole sheet. Use your power responsibly.” She set them beside his phone, safely beyond the flour. “And if someone wants a flower instead, I do accommodate individual preferences. We run a very thoughtful program.”

While he continued cutting, Ellie brought the second pan closer and checked the first without fussing over the pieces he had already placed. A slightly wider spiral needed another inch of room, so she shifted the parchment beneath it and left the bun itself alone. His admission that he preferred this part to the butter earned him an understanding nod. “It’s the little reveal. You do all that work, and then you finally get to see what’s inside.” She looked at the next clean spiral as he lifted it. “I still like that bit.”

The mention of making crumble until she was tired of it made her glance up from the pan. “You can change the fruit. Then it becomes variety, and nobody can accuse you of having only one recipe.” She reached for a clean cloth to cover the first tray, smiling at the prospect of him making something for her in Denver. “We’ll start with apples. Pears after that, if you’re feeling bold.” His grin over following instructions drew one from her. “I have seen your work. You’re very teachable when there’s dessert involved.”

His stomach’s quiet complaint made her look toward his phone at almost the same moment he did. “I’ll remind you,” she said. “We’ve already established that I’m having fries. I’m not emotionally prepared for a change of menu.” She finished covering the first pan loosely, then gathered a second cloth while he worked through the remaining dough. It was tempting to take over the last few pieces simply because she could do them quickly, but there was no need. He was enjoying himself, and she rather liked having a minute to watch him enjoy something she had invited him into.

The end piece made her press her lips together, trying not to laugh before he had even commented on it. When he claimed it, she leaned over to inspect the little spiral with proper attention. “Bertie,” she decided. “He looks like a Bertie.” She adjusted a loose edge with one fingertip, giving it just enough support to stay upright. “There. He’s doing his best. We’ll give him a comfortable spot and see what happens.” Her eyes lifted to Tyler’s, bright with amusement. “Please remember him kindly when you’re eating him.”

She counted the finished buns along with him, then drew the second cloth across the remaining pan. His résumé announcement prompted her to look back at the notebook. “I’ll write you a reference. Excellent attendance, very enthusiastic, occasionally distracted by the owner.” She closed the book before another ingredient could land on the page and tucked the pen into its spine. “Although I think you should wait until you’ve tasted them before you commit to a career change. I’d hate for you to resign over an attractive spiral.”

When he stepped closer, Ellie let the towel rest on the counter and turned fully toward him. Her hands settled lightly at his sides as he raised the matter of compensation, and she looked up with a smile that softened at his compliment. There was something particularly effective about hearing it now, when she had flour on her clothes and knew at least one sleeve was beginning to slip down. She glanced briefly at the front of her apron, then back at him. “Even with half the worktop on me?” The question was playful, but the pleased color in her cheeks was harder to disguise. “You’re awfully good for business. I keep forgetting I was supposed to be closing.”

She met his kiss with her hand sliding up to the side of his neck, fingertips resting just beneath the loose hair at his nape. For a few seconds, she made no attempt to remember anything else. The dough was covered, the string set aside, and nothing in the kitchen needed her attention badly enough to interrupt this. When he eased back, her eyes opened slowly, her thumb brushing once along his jaw. His withdrawal of the complaint made her smile near his mouth. “I’ll mark the matter resolved.”

The smaller kiss caught the edge of that smile before she could move away. She stayed close afterward, listening when his voice quieted and he acknowledged how quickly tomorrow came. “I know,” she said, her hand slipping down to rest over his chest. “I don’t want you to think I’m cross with you. I just get a bit disappointed when I remember.” She could say that without making it larger than it was. He was here, he had told her when he needed to leave, and he was already offering to work out the next visit. Her fingers smoothed a small fold in his shirt. “Breakfast helps.”

She nodded at his suggestion that they check the schedule later. “We’ll look when we get home. I can bring mine up, too.” It felt easier when there was something practical to do, a day to compare against another day instead of a vague stretch of missing him. His promise of dinner and a possible crumble drew a little lift at the corner of her mouth. “And yes, I’m willing to risk your dessert. You’ve spent most of the evening proving you can follow instructions. I’d be a very poor teacher if I suddenly lost faith in you.”

His return to the fries was welcome, and she let her hand fall from his shirt so he could finish the order. “Buying extra doesn’t answer the question of whether yours are better,” she pointed out. “It simply gives us a larger sample.” She watched him add another portion, looking thoroughly pleased with this development. “But I appreciate your commitment to a proper investigation.” The bees were still beside his phone, and she tapped the sheet lightly. “Don’t forget your other payment. I don’t want you arriving at practice unprepared to encourage anyone.”

Once the order was submitted, Ellie collected the covered pans and indicated the clear stretch of rack away from the draft of the back door. “They can rest there. I’ll check them in about half an hour and see how they’re doing.” She set a timer, then adjusted the cloth over one corner. “The oven’s already heating. We’ll have dinner while they finish waking up.” She glanced at him with a smile. “After all this attention, they’re probably going to be terribly demanding.”

His insistence that neither of them make another food decision made her look toward the frosting ingredients, then deliberately away again. “Agreed. The frosting is decided. I’m not allowed to have a new idea.” She carried the remaining ingredients back to their places while he scraped the counter, putting the maple syrup where it belonged and returning the butter to the refrigerator. Working alongside him made the cleanup feel brief. She wiped down the cleared surface, checked beneath the notebook for any stray flour, and resisted the unnecessary urge to polish a patch that was already clean.

At the sink, she dried the mixing bowl after he washed it and put it back on the shelf. The smaller utensils followed, each returned to its usual place, until the worktop held only what she would need when the buns came out. Ellie untied her apron and folded it over a hook, then brushed at the front of her cardigan. A little flour remained near the cuff. She left it. “There,” she said, taking in the kitchen. “We’re allowed to be people who sit down now.”

His description of the couch arrangement made her look over her shoulder with a growing smile. “You’ve given me the blanket, but you’re keeping me. That sounds like you’ve found a way to have both.” She stepped closer and slipped her free hand around his forearm when his fingers threaded through hers. “Very clever. I’ll allow it.” The prospect of being tucked beside him for the rest of the evening was enough to make her want to hurry through the time between now and home, but there was something lovely waiting here, too: warm lights, an empty table, dinner someone else had made.

She led him toward the little table near the window, stopping to bring two chairs around the same side rather than leaving them opposite each other. Outside, a few leaves skittered along the pavement beneath the streetlamp. Inside, the front room was quiet except for the music she had forgotten to turn down, and she lowered it a little before setting out napkins. “Your union representative can have a chair as well,” she said, glancing back at him. “But they’re not getting any fries. We’ve only ordered for two.”

His last assurance caught her before she could sit. Ellie kept her hand in his and looked up, the beginnings of another teasing reply giving way to a small, delighted smile. Her thumb moved over his knuckles. She had pulled the chairs together, but he had been the one asking her to come sit; the couch, the blanket, even breakfast were things he was looking forward to with her. A little flutter rose beneath her ribs, and she stepped into the space between them, lifting her free hand to his cheek. She kissed him without saying anything, slow and sweet, then drew back just enough to see his face. Her hand stayed where it was, and she looked at him with such open affection that the smile returned before she could think to contain it.

Tyler had been halfway toward making some smartass comment about the seating arrangements when Ellie stepped close and kissed him, effectively putting an end to whatever brilliant observation he'd been preparing. His hand settled at her waist as he returned the kiss, and the warmth of her palm against his cheek made him reluctant to be the one who ended it. When she drew back, he caught the smile spreading across her face, so openly pleased that he found himself grinning in return. “Well, shit,” he murmured, amusement warming his voice. “There goes whatever clever thing I was about to say.” He leaned down for another kiss, stealing it with considerably less ceremony before straightening. “You know, I was doing a pretty good job of being charming all evening, and now you've gone and made me forget how.”

He wasn't particularly concerned about recovering the lost remark, especially when the alternative involved remaining exactly where he was. Still, his legs were beginning to remind him of the conditioning session he'd subjected them to earlier, and the two chairs waiting beside the window were looking increasingly inviting. He glanced toward them, noticing just how deliberately Ellie had arranged everything, and his mouth curved again. “I saw what you did with those chairs, by the way,” he informed her, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. “Very subtle. Really playing it cool.” He pulled one out, making enough room for his legs beneath the little table, then added, “Good call, though. I'd have ended up dragging mine over anyway.”

Sitting down brought an immediate, welcome relief to his legs, and Tyler let out a low breath as he stretched one beneath the table. He'd enjoyed practice that afternoon, but he'd made the questionable decision to turn the final conditioning drill into a competition, and his body was beginning to express its opinion on the matter. He rubbed a hand over his thigh, remembering the satisfaction of finishing ahead of the others and the considerably less satisfying walk back toward the locker room afterward. “I did something stupid at practice today,” he admitted, looking toward Ellie with an expression that suggested he was perfectly aware of how unsurprising that announcement might be. “We were finishing conditioning, and I decided the last set needed to be a race. Nobody asked for that. I just apparently felt like making everyone's afternoon worse.” He paused, the beginnings of a smug smile appearing. “Won, though. Obviously. Which is great, except now getting out of a chair feels like a personal attack.”

He shifted into a more comfortable position, one arm resting along the back of the neighboring chair as he took in the little dining arrangement Ellie had prepared. The napkins were waiting, the lights around the autumn display cast a soft glow across the tabletop, and the music had been lowered enough that it no longer competed with their conversation. He'd eaten in the bakery plenty of times, usually while Ellie was working or during the occasional lull between customers, but having the front room entirely to themselves was a different experience. There was something pleasantly ridiculous about the contrast between the quiet little table and the fact that their dinner would arrive in paper bags. “You know what? I think this might actually be better than going out,” he decided. “No reservations, no waiting for a table, and I get to sit next to a very attractive woman who apparently has questionable hiring practices.” He looked toward the darkened window, then back at Ellie. “Pretty exclusive place, too. I hear they only let professional hockey players in after closing.”

His phone lay on the table near the sheet of stickers Ellie had given him, and the little cartoon bees caught his attention when he reached to check the delivery status. He picked up the sheet instead, studying the collection of cheerful expressions with an increasingly entertained smile. The thought of putting one on his water bottle and walking into the locker room as though nothing were unusual about it was appealing enough that he was already committed to the experiment. “These are incredible, by the way,” he said, holding up the sheet. “I'm putting one on my water bottle tomorrow. Not saying a word about it, either. I'm just gonna let the guys figure out why I've suddenly got an encouraging bee telling me I'm doing great.” He inspected one particularly enthusiastic little insect before putting the sheet somewhere safe. “Although if this turns into a thing and half the team starts asking for stickers, I'm sending them straight to you. You're the one running the motivational insect program.”

He finally checked his phone, finding that their order had been picked up and was making its way toward the bakery. The estimated arrival was close enough that he could practically smell the fries already, although that was probably wishful thinking encouraged by the fact that he'd spent the last hour surrounded by food he wasn't allowed to eat. He set the phone aside and glanced toward the kitchen, where the prepared buns were resting beneath their clean coverings. He was rather looking forward to seeing how much they changed during the final rise, particularly after spending so long helping shape them. It still surprised him a little that he'd found the whole process as entertaining as he had. He'd expected to keep Ellie company, steal a few apples, and make himself useful wherever she needed an extra pair of hands. Somehow he'd ended up with a genuine interest in whether his slightly lopsided contributions would survive the oven.

“I'm actually excited to see how those turn out,” he admitted, nodding toward the kitchen. “Which is probably embarrassing, considering how many times I've eaten your baking without giving the process much thought.” He considered the individual spirals they'd arranged in the pans, most of them respectable and one considerably less conventional. “And I want it on record that Bertie deserves the same opportunities as everybody else. Just because he's shaped like a minor accident doesn't mean he can't achieve greatness.” Tyler paused, looking entirely pleased with the sentiment. “Actually, I think I'm eating him tomorrow. Feels wrong to let somebody else do it after everything we've been through together.”

The bell above the front door interrupted him before he could elaborate on Bertie's promising future. Tyler glanced toward the entrance, then checked his phone as the arrival notification appeared. “There we go,” he said, pushing himself up from the chair with a brief protest from his legs. “Our very fancy dinner has arrived.” He crossed the front room and greeted the delivery driver with the same easy friendliness he brought to most interactions, confirming the order before accepting the bags and thanking him. The warmth of the food came through the paper, and the smell of hot fries made the short walk back to the table an exercise in restraint. He glanced inside one bag, checking that the order appeared complete, then set everything down. “Okay, that smells ridiculously good. I'm going to need you to appreciate how disciplined I've been about not eating these on the way over here.”

He unpacked the containers, setting the burgers and their accompanying sides within easy reach before placing the extra fries between their seats. There was plenty of food, which was exactly what he'd wanted after the afternoon he'd had, and he was pleased to find that the restaurant had remembered the additional sauces. He arranged everything around the napkins Ellie had already put out, making a reasonable attempt to keep the little table from becoming overcrowded. “All right. Two burgers, plenty of fries, extra fries, and enough sauce to suggest they think we're feeding a small family.” He inspected the remaining contents of the bag, satisfied that nothing was missing. “And before you start, the extra fries are communal. I'm being very generous about this, especially considering I've spent most of the evening doing manual labor.”

Tyler settled back into his chair, immediately appreciating the opportunity to remain there for longer than thirty seconds. He picked up a fry from his own portion and took a bite, finding it every bit as good as the smell had promised. Crisp outside, properly fluffy in the middle, and salty enough that he reached for another before he'd finished chewing the first. “Oh, yeah,” he said appreciatively, nodding toward the food. “Good choice. Really good choice.” He paused, reconsidering that assessment with a faintly smug expression. “Actually, excellent choice on my part. I ordered it. That makes me responsible for its success.”

He unwrapped his burger, taking a moment to assess the considerable amount of food contained between the bun before committing to the first bite. It was good enough that he abandoned any intention of making another comment until he'd finished chewing, and he reached for a napkin with an appreciative shake of his head. After spending the afternoon being active and the evening resisting Ellie's ingredients, eating something substantial was exactly what he'd needed. He settled comfortably beside her, occasionally reaching for his drink or another fry as the conversation found its way into the easy rhythm that usually accompanied their dinners together. The bakery was quiet beyond the low music and the faint sounds of traffic outside, and he could still catch the lingering scent of cinnamon beneath the smell of their food.

His attention wandered briefly to the little pumpkins displayed near the window, including the one he'd noticed Ellie correcting earlier. “So, are we at maximum pumpkin capacity yet, or should I expect the entire bakery to look like a pumpkin patch by Halloween?” he asked, genuinely curious despite the teasing in his voice. He knew Ellie enjoyed decorating for the season, and he'd already noticed that the autumn displays seemed to acquire new residents whenever he went a few days without visiting. He'd been around long enough to understand that asking whether she really needed another decoration was a pointless exercise, particularly when the answer was usually an enthusiastic explanation of why the newest acquisition was completely different from the others. “Because I feel like we're still in the early stages here. You've got another couple of weeks to get ambitious.” His eyes narrowed playfully toward the front display. “And I'm pretty sure that one wasn't there last time.”

He took another bite of his burger, enjoying the fact that he could sit there talking nonsense without needing to think about the next thing on his schedule. He had enough time to check the team calendar later, once they were back at Ellie's place, and there was nothing particularly useful he could do about it while they were eating. The plan for tomorrow was already settled, including breakfast before he left, and he was looking forward to having that time with her. For now, there was a good meal in front of him, a comfortable chair beneath him, and the occasional reminder from his legs that challenging his teammates to an unnecessary competition had consequences. He'd learned to live with considerably worse consequences than sore thighs.

After another moment, Tyler glanced at the extra fries between them, then at his own portion. He remembered Ellie's earlier insistence that determining whose fries were better required a proper investigation, and the opportunity to revisit that argument was too good to resist. He selected a particularly promising fry from his plate and held it out toward her, wearing an expression of exaggerated seriousness. “All right, sweetheart. Here's your chance,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement. “One from my plate, personally selected for scientific purposes. You can compare it against yours and the communal supply, and then we'll finally settle this.” He considered the fry for another second before adding, “Although I should warn you, mine's definitely better. Same restaurant, same fryer, probably the same batch of potatoes, but somehow I just know.” His mouth curved into a crooked grin as he offered it a little closer. “Go on, El. Let's hear your expert opinion. You've been evaluating my work all night. I think it's time you returned the favor.”

Ellie’s smile only widened when he admitted she had made him forget what he was going to say. “Oh, good. I was beginning to worry you might never run out.” The quick kiss he stole afterward caught the edge of her laugh, and her fingers lingered against his cheek before slipping down to his shoulder. She was still looking at him when he glanced toward the chairs, too pleased with herself to attempt much innocence. “I wasn’t being subtle. I wanted you beside me.” She took the neighboring seat and smoothed her dress beneath her thighs, then looked up at him with a small, satisfied smile. “There. Much better.”

His confession about practice made her pause in the act of unfolding her napkin. Ellie listened to the entire account, including the inevitable announcement that he had won, before looking down at the leg he had stretched beneath the table. “So you invented a competition, won the competition, and now you’re suffering consequences nobody else needed you to have.” Her mouth twitched. “That does sound like you.” She rested her hand lightly above his knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I’m very impressed, obviously. I’ll mention your victory when I’m helping you stand up later.”

She settled comfortably beneath the arm along the back of her chair, angling toward him instead of sitting squarely at the table. Now that she was finally off her feet, she could feel the length of the day in her calves. His assessment of their date earned a pleased glance around the room. She spent so much time making the bakery welcoming for other people that it was rather nice to sit in it herself, with nothing to offer anyone and no need to listen for a customer approaching the counter. “I think so, too,” she said. “And the hiring practices are perfectly sound. I saw someone handsome who could reach a shelf, and I acted decisively.”

The claim about who was allowed inside after closing made her turn back to him. “One professional hockey player,” she corrected. “It’s a very specific policy. I don’t want you telling people they can all turn up here in the evenings.” She pictured a collection of hungry men discovering the cooling racks and shook her head. “I’d have nothing left to sell in the morning. Just crumbs and a very apologetic sign.”

His interest in the bees delighted her all over again. Ellie leaned closer to look at the sheet as he held it up, pointing to one small bee with its arms raised enthusiastically. “That one looks particularly proud of you. You could start with him.” There was something deeply funny about the thought of the stickers making their way into a professional locker room, and something rather sweet about Tyler being willing to take them there. “Send me a picture when you put it on your bottle. I want to see.” She paused, considering the possible demand. “If the others want them, I’ll get more. But I’m going to need to hear what they’ve done to deserve one. I can’t have the whole system become meaningless.”

While he checked the delivery, she glanced toward the kitchen, resisting the urge to get up and peek beneath the cloths. The timer had barely begun its work. Her chair was comfortable, his leg was close to hers, and the dough was perfectly capable of rising without an audience. She left her hand resting on his knee for another moment before drawing it back to straighten her napkin.

“You’re allowed to be excited,” she told him when he nodded toward the kitchen. “You made something. It’s nice getting to see how it turns out.” His defense of Bertie brought a laugh out of her. “He has exactly the same opportunities as everyone else. Good pan, nice warm spot, generous frosting allowance.” She considered the little end piece with fondness. “And you can have him tomorrow. I’ll make sure nobody gets there first. Perhaps put a little velvet rope around him.”

When the bell rang, Ellie started to shift forward out of habit, but Tyler was already getting up. She settled back, watching him cross the room with a smile that became more sympathetic at the careful way he moved. By the time he returned with the bags, the smell had her sitting straighter. “I appreciate it enormously,” she assured him. “That was a very long journey. Several tables. A chair. So many opportunities to lose your resolve.”

She helped make room as he unpacked, moving the tiny vase toward the window and collecting the empty packaging into one bag. The extra sauces required a little rearranging, but eventually everything fit. “Look at that. We’ve even got choices.” She selected one and set it between them, then glanced at the communal fries. “I accept these terms. Very generous. Your contribution to dinner has been noted.”

His first bite appeared to confirm everything she had hoped about the food, and she took a fry from her own portion while he congratulated himself on ordering successfully. “Of course. I’ll let the kitchen know you’ve taken responsibility.” She bit into it, pleased by the crisp edge, and nodded before reaching for another. “Oh, those are good.” Her eyes returned to his, warm with amusement. “Excellent work pressing the buttons, darling. You’ve had a very productive evening.”

For a little while, she was content to eat. The burger was warm enough that she had to adjust her grip through the wrapper, and a small drop of sauce threatened to escape before she caught it with her napkin. She laughed softly at herself, took a more manageable bite, and settled closer to the back of her chair. It felt good to be hungry and then do something about it, without taking three bites standing at the counter and remembering something else she needed to finish. With Tyler beside her and dinner already handled, she could actually taste what she was eating.

His question about the pumpkins made her follow his gaze immediately. “That depends what you mean by capacity.” She swallowed, then pointed toward the one he was examining. “He is new. The others were mostly round, and I liked having a taller one. It makes the arrangement more interesting.” She looked back at him with the confidence of someone presenting an entirely reasonable explanation. “And I’ve got little paper bats to put up. Very delicate ones. Nothing alarming.”

She took another fry, considering the window with renewed interest. “I thought I might hang them at different heights, so they look like they’re flying across.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she pictured it, already working out where the thread could go. Then she caught herself planning another job and turned back to him. “Not tonight. Tonight they can remain in their bag and think about their future.” She brushed her knee against his beneath the table. “You’re safe. I’m not getting the stepladder.”

She liked that he noticed when something changed in the bakery, even if the observation came attached to an accusation of excessive pumpkin ownership. It gave her an excuse to tell him about the things she had been doing, the small decisions that never quite seemed worth a phone call on their own. She told him about a little girl who had spent several minutes choosing which velvet pumpkin was her favorite, only to ask whether it was edible. “Which was fair, really. Almost everything else in here is. I felt quite bad disappointing her.” Her mouth curved. “She recovered when she saw the cookies.”

By the time he selected a fry from his own portion, Ellie had put her burger down for a brief rest. She watched his careful choice with growing amusement, then looked from the offered fry to his face as he explained the conditions. “Personally selected? Well, now I’m nervous. I hadn’t realized this was going to be such a formal occasion.” She leaned a little closer, one hand resting against his wrist without taking the fry away from him.

But the name he had used caught her attention before the tasting could. Her expression softened, the teasing pause becoming something more sincere. “I like when you call me sweetheart,” she told him. Her thumb brushed lightly along the inside of his wrist. “It sounds like you mean it. I like it better than babe.” She smiled at him for another moment, then leaned forward and took a small bite from the fry he was holding, leaving the rest between his fingers.

She considered it while she chewed, although the look in her eyes suggested she had already wandered away from the subject of potatoes. “Baby’s good, too,” she added once she had swallowed. A little color rose in her cheeks, but she held his gaze. “Especially in bed. You say it like that, and suddenly I’m very keen to impress you.” Her smile turned bright and mischievous. “Apparently I respond beautifully to encouragement. You could have saved yourself an entire evening of negotiations.” She leaned in and ate the rest of the fry, looking thoroughly pleased with the information she had just left him to consider.

Ellie reached for her drink and took an unhurried sip, apparently satisfied that she had contributed something perfectly ordinary to the conversation. Her hand slipped from his wrist to rest comfortably on his knee, and she glanced toward the pumpkins in the window. “Oh, I meant to ask you. Do you have any strong feelings about Halloween costumes?” She looked back at him with bright, innocent interest. “Because I had an idea, but I need you to hear the whole thing before you make a face.”

She set her drink down and turned a little more toward him. “A witch and her black cat. I’ve already got a dress that would work, and you’d barely have to do anything. Black clothes. Little ears.” Her eyes traveled briefly to his hair, considering the practicalities. “They’d sit quite nicely in front of your bun, actually.” She picked up another fry from her own plate, making a small gesture with it. “And before you object, I would be the witch. I feel like that’s obvious, but I don’t want there to be confusion later.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, but she continued with remarkable composure. “I wouldn’t make you wear a tail. I’m being very considerate about this.” Her thumb moved absently against his knee as she dipped the fry into sauce. “Although I did see one that clips on, which seems convenient. You could take it off whenever you felt it was interfering with your dignity.”

She ate the fry, then tilted her head at him, her expression softening into an affectionate little smile. “What? You’d be a very handsome cat.” The faintest glimmer of mischief remained in her eyes. “I’m trying to plan ahead, sweetheart. Some of us have responsibilities beyond being distracting at dinner.”

Tyler had been prepared to defend the superiority of his fries with the kind of confidence usually reserved for subjects he actually knew something about. He had an entire argument ready, complete with a completely fabricated explanation of why food tasted better when it came from somebody else's plate. What he hadn't anticipated was Ellie interrupting their highly scientific experiment to inform him that she had a preference regarding what he called her. His attention shifted from the fry to her face, catching the sincerity beneath her smile, and something unexpectedly pleased settled in his chest. “Sweetheart, huh?” he repeated, giving the word a little consideration. “Didn't realize we were ranking these things. I've been operating without a proper performance review this whole time.” He turned his wrist slightly beneath her hand, brushing his thumb over her fingers. “All right. That's good to know, sweetheart.”

He liked the way the word sounded when he said it to her, although he hadn't particularly thought about why he chose one endearment over another. Most of the time, whatever came out of his mouth was determined by the moment, whether he was teasing her across a kitchen counter or trying to get her attention from another room. It was interesting to discover that something he'd been saying without much thought had developed a particular significance for her. He wasn't going to start treating every conversation like an opportunity to test the theory, but he could certainly make use of the information. “So what's the official verdict on the others?” he asked, amusement returning to his expression. “Because I'm starting to think I should've been given a handbook. Preferred names, approved terminology, situations where 'babe' is still perfectly acceptable.” He paused, looking thoroughly entertained by the prospect. “I feel like this relationship has an HR department I didn't know about.”

Then she elaborated, and Tyler's carefully constructed argument about affectionate terminology abandoned him entirely. For a second, he simply looked at her, his now-empty hand resting against the table as he absorbed both the information and the unmistakably mischievous satisfaction with which she'd delivered it. He had never needed much encouragement to find Ellie attractive, and he certainly didn't need an explanation of why hearing her talk about their bedroom habits in the middle of dinner might prove distracting. What caught him was the casual confidence of it, the way she'd offered him something intimate about herself without making it an enormous confession. His eyes narrowed with amusement, and he gave a low, appreciative laugh. “Oh, that's interesting,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “That's very interesting.”

He leaned a little closer, no longer pretending the potatoes deserved his undivided attention. “You realize you've just handed me an incredible amount of power, right?” His tone was playful, but the look he gave her made it clear that he understood exactly what kind of reaction she was inviting. “Although I'm not sure what you're worried about impressing me for. You've been doing a pretty spectacular job of that without any additional motivation.” He let the observation stand for a moment before adding, “But if a little encouragement helps, I'm more than happy to provide it.” He reached for his drink, taking a deliberately unhurried sip before returning his attention to her. “And I'm going to remember that conversation when we're somewhere considerably more private.”

He was still enjoying the implications when she introduced the subject of Halloween, and the abrupt change in direction nearly made him laugh. There was something very Ellie about casually giving him information that would occupy his thoughts for the foreseeable future and then immediately asking whether he'd considered his seasonal wardrobe. Tyler looked at her for a long moment, searching her expression for some indication that she appreciated what she'd just done to his ability to concentrate on dinner. The innocent interest she was presenting was entirely unconvincing. “Hang on,” he said, setting his drink down. “You don't get to say something like that and then immediately start talking about Halloween costumes like we're discussing the weather.” He shook his head, openly amused. “That's a hell of a transition, El. Give a guy a second.”

He was tempted to prolong the discussion simply because she'd made it so easy to tease her, but the prospect of hearing what she'd come up with was appealing in its own right. Ellie liked Halloween, and he knew from experience that her ideas tended to become increasingly elaborate once she had enough time to consider them. He was perfectly willing to participate, provided she understood that agreeing to wear a costume did not automatically grant her unlimited authority over what that costume involved. There was a difference between dressing up for a party and discovering that your girlfriend had quietly ordered you a full-body animal suit because she'd decided it would be adorable. He had enough confidence to survive the occasional ridiculous photograph, but he'd still prefer to know what he was agreeing to before anything arrived in the mail. “All right,” he said, settling back in his chair. “Let's hear it. I'm listening, and I'm not making a face.” He paused, considering the promise. “Well, I'm not promising that last part. Depends how bad the idea is.”

The proposed pairing earned a moment of genuine consideration before his expression shifted into something deeply entertained. He looked down at himself, apparently assessing whether his current wardrobe offered sufficient evidence of his suitability for the role, then returned his attention to Ellie. “A black cat,” he repeated. “So you've got a dress you already own, and my contribution is putting on black clothes and wearing little ears?” He gave an approving nod. “Honestly, that's a pretty good division of labor. I was expecting you to tell me I needed to rent something or spend three hours having makeup put on my face.” He reached for another fry, looking increasingly pleased with the simplicity of the arrangement. “Plus, I look good in black. That's not even arrogance. It's just a fact.”

The ears were another matter, although not one he felt particularly strongly about. He could picture them well enough, especially with the way Ellie had already begun considering how they would sit against his hair. He'd worn considerably more ridiculous things over the years, sometimes voluntarily and sometimes because a teammate had convinced him that participating in a joke was worth the inevitable photographs. A pair of cat ears wasn't exactly going to destroy his credibility as a professional athlete. He was more interested in the fact that Ellie seemed to have thought about the details, including what he would wear and how little effort the costume would require. “You know what? I can do the ears,” he decided. “Black jeans, black shirt, hair up, little headband. Easy.” His gaze sharpened with playful suspicion. “Actually, have you bought the ears? Because you're sounding pretty confident about how they're going to look.”

He could practically imagine her arranging his hair around them, adjusting the headband until she was satisfied, and deciding there was something else the costume needed once she saw the finished result. That was the part of the plan he approached with a healthy amount of caution. Tyler had no objection to looking ridiculous for a good joke, but he knew how easily one accessory could become another when somebody enjoyed dressing things up as much as Ellie did. He pointed a fry toward her with an expression of mock warning. “There is one condition, though. You're not turning this into one of those situations where I agree to the ears and suddenly you decide I need whiskers, a painted nose, and little paws.” He paused, reconsidering the possibilities. “Actually, whiskers might be fine. Depends how good you are at drawing them.”

The tail, however, deserved at least a little discussion, if only because the fact that she'd considered buying one was too entertaining to ignore. Tyler sat back and regarded her with the patient expression of a man who had discovered an unexpected clause in a contract he'd been seconds away from signing. “And I appreciate you making the tail optional,” he said, drawing the words out. “Very generous of you. Really respecting my dignity.” His mouth twitched as he considered the image of himself walking around with something attached to the back of his jeans. “I'm willing to wear the ears. I'm even willing to let you put some eyeliner on me if that's part of the vision. But I think we can safely leave the thing dangling off my ass in the store.” He paused, then added with an appreciative nod, “Although I respect the engineering. Whoever came up with the little clip knew what they were doing.”

His attention shifted to the pumpkins near the window, and he thought about the little paper bats Ellie had been describing earlier. The whole idea seemed entirely appropriate for the season, especially given how enthusiastically she approached the decorations that were already beginning to take over the bakery. He'd spent enough October evenings in Evergreen to know that there was always something going on around Halloween, whether it was a party, a gathering at somebody's house, or an event that involved considerably more costumes than he'd originally expected. Hockey sometimes complicated his ability to participate, but he wasn't opposed to making plans around whatever free time he had. He just needed to look at the calendar before committing to a particular night. “What's the occasion, anyway?” he asked. “Are we going somewhere, or have you just decided you want me dressed as your cat for personal entertainment?” His expression turned thoughtful. “Because I can respect either answer. I just need to know what kind of audience we're dealing with.”

He'd have to check the schedule before promising anything for Halloween itself, particularly with the season still settling into its usual collection of practices, games, and occasional changes that nobody seemed interested in consulting him about. That didn't mean they couldn't do something together, even if the actual date required a little rearranging. He liked the idea of having something fun planned, especially something that belonged entirely to them rather than another obligation on either of their calendars. Ellie's enthusiasm was persuasive enough on its own, but the thought of seeing her enjoying herself in whatever costume she'd imagined made the decision considerably easier. “I'll check what we've got going on,” he said. “If I'm free, I'm in. And if Halloween itself doesn't work, we'll find another night.” He gestured toward her with the fry. “But I want to see this dress before I commit to the full artistic vision. You're getting a lot of information about my wardrobe while being suspiciously vague about yours.”

There was something else about the arrangement that amused him, and he gave it a little consideration before returning to the subject of their respective roles. “Actually, being the cat might be pretty accurate,” he decided. “You feed me, occasionally tell me to get out of your way, and spend a ridiculous amount of time dealing with my hair.” He paused, counting off the similarities with increasing satisfaction. “I like sleeping in warm places. I'm very particular about where I sit. And apparently, according to you, I'm handsome enough that you just want me around for decorative purposes.” He nodded, as though the matter had been settled beyond reasonable dispute. “Yeah. I think we've found my character.”

The comparison became even more entertaining when he considered the other half of the costume. He had no difficulty picturing Ellie as a witch, although he suspected her interpretation would involve considerably more attention to clothing and accessories than a pointed hat and a broomstick. She had already mentioned owning a suitable dress, which suggested the idea hadn't required much imagination on her part. He wondered whether she was planning something elegant, something playful, or a combination that would undoubtedly result in him being distracted for most of the evening. “And you'd make a pretty convincing witch,” he added, regarding her with undisguised appreciation. “Although I feel like people are going to assume you've put some kind of spell on me if I spend the whole night following you around.” He took another bite of his burger, then continued once he'd swallowed. “Which, frankly, isn't that far from the truth.”

He wasn't particularly concerned about whether anybody else would understand their choice of costumes. The point was to enjoy themselves, and he liked the fact that Ellie had already begun imagining them doing something together. He'd spent plenty of Halloweens with teammates and friends over the years, some more memorable than others, and he knew there would be opportunities for the usual group nonsense once the team started organizing its own plans. Dressing up with Ellie sounded like a different kind of fun, one that could include a little competition over who looked better without either of them taking the outcome particularly seriously. He suspected she'd win, especially if she already had a dress in mind, but he wasn't about to surrender that argument before seeing the competition. “Although I'm warning you now,” he said, amusement returning to his voice, “if I end up looking better than you in this costume, you're going to have to live with that.” He glanced toward his hair, considering the proposed ears again. “It's a real possibility. I've got excellent bone structure.”

His attention returned to their dinner, and he finally noticed that their elaborate experiment concerning the fries had been abandoned without a proper conclusion. He regarded the remaining portions with the faint displeasure of someone whose carefully designed scientific study had been derailed by an unexpected development. Admittedly, the unexpected development had been considerably more interesting than potatoes, so he couldn't complain too much. Still, he felt obligated to preserve the integrity of the experiment. “By the way, you never actually told me whether mine was better,” he pointed out. “You ate the entire piece of evidence, distracted me with some extremely interesting personal information, and then started negotiating Halloween costumes.” He looked at her with exaggerated suspicion. “I'm starting to think that was deliberate. Very clever strategy, really.”

He reached for one of the communal fries, dipping it into the sauce before deciding the difference was negligible enough that further investigation probably wasn't necessary. The burger had been excellent, the fries were disappearing at a respectable pace, and he was beginning to feel considerably more human than he had when he'd first sat down. He was also enjoying the conversation more than he probably ought to admit, especially considering how far they'd wandered from anything resembling an important subject. They had managed to cover hockey, baking, affectionate nicknames, bedroom preferences, and the possibility of him dressing as a cat without leaving their little table. That was a fairly productive dinner by any reasonable standard. “You know,” he said, taking another sip of his drink, “I think we're setting some kind of record for the number of completely unrelated conversations we can have during one meal.”

The timer in the kitchen hadn't sounded yet, and he was content to leave the buns alone until Ellie decided they needed attention. Bertie and his considerably more conventional companions could manage a few more minutes without supervision. Tyler had spent enough of the evening concentrating on pastry that he was perfectly happy to return to being somebody who simply enjoyed the results. Besides, he was still interested in discovering exactly how serious Ellie was about the Halloween plan. He had a feeling she'd been giving it more thought than she'd initially admitted, particularly considering how quickly she'd produced an entire concept once he showed the slightest willingness to participate. That was fine with him. He liked hearing her plans, even the ridiculous ones, and he was usually happy to contribute something that made them a little more entertaining.

“Okay, so here's where I'm at,” he said eventually, adopting the businesslike tone he'd used during their earlier employment negotiations. “Black clothes, cat ears, potentially some very tasteful whiskers. No tail, as graciously offered by the management.” He held up a finger, as though he were presenting the final terms of a very serious agreement. “And I reserve the right to complain about the ears at least once, even though I'm going to wear them anyway.” His expression softened into a grin as he considered the arrangement, then he added, “But if you're going to be my witch, I think I should get some say in your costume, too.”

He leaned slightly toward her, lowering his voice with the same easy flirtation that had been running between them all evening. “For starters, I want to see you in this dress you've apparently been hiding from me.” His attention lingered on her face, openly appreciative and entirely unashamed of it. “And if I'm going to be your very handsome black cat, I expect a certain amount of special treatment. Scratches behind the ears, maybe. Occasional praise for being exceptionally well behaved.” He paused, a particularly wicked little smile appearing as he remembered the information she'd volunteered earlier. “Although I think we've already established that you respond pretty well to praise yourself.”

He let that settle between them before returning to his burger, apparently satisfied with the terms he'd proposed. There was no particular need to settle every detail tonight, especially when he suspected Ellie would have several new ideas before Halloween arrived. For now, he was happy knowing they had something to look forward to, along with the much more immediate prospect of finishing dinner and taking their evening home. He glanced toward the sheet of encouraging bees resting safely beside his phone, then back toward her with one final thought. “Actually, sweetheart, I've got a question,” he said, his expression brightening with mischief. “If I'm your black cat, do I get one of those little stickers for cooperating with the costume?” He considered the possibility with a solemn nod. “Because I feel like a grown man voluntarily wearing cat ears deserves at least one encouraging bee.”

Ellie’s smile deepened at the deliberate repetition of sweetheart, her fingers resting comfortably beneath the brush of his thumb. “There isn’t a ranking. I just like that one.” She paused, considering the distinction while looking at him. “Although I suppose saying I like it better does make it a ranking. All right. A very informal ranking.” His request for a handbook made her laugh. “You’re doing perfectly well without instructions. I’d hate for you to start consulting a little booklet every time you wanted to get my attention.”

His reaction to her next admission was gratifying enough that she had to look down at her plate to keep from appearing entirely too pleased with herself. When he leaned closer, she met his eyes again, the warmth in her cheeks doing very little to diminish the mischief in her expression. “I wasn’t worried,” she said. “I was sharing something useful. You’ve been very appreciative of useful information all evening.” The compliment that followed softened her smile, and her hand gave his wrist a gentle squeeze before she let go. “You’re welcome to remember it. I didn’t tell you so you’d forget.”

She took another sip of her drink while he protested the change of subject, then set it down with careful composure. “Would you prefer a little announcement before I move on? Perhaps a bell?” The corner of her mouth betrayed her almost immediately. “You were holding a fry. I thought we could discuss two things without anyone getting hurt.” Still, she gave him a moment, resting her chin lightly against her hand while she watched him recover his interest in Halloween. “Take your time. I’m being very patient.”

His willingness to hear the idea was encouraging, even with the qualification about making a face. Ellie sat a little straighter as he considered the division of labor, visibly pleased when he seemed to find it reasonable. “Exactly. You already own practically everything. I was trying to make it easy.” His observation about looking good in black earned an agreeable nod. “You do. That was taken into consideration. I’m very thorough when it comes to these things.”

At the question about whether she had already bought the ears, she glanced toward her drink, which was an unfortunate choice if she hoped to look innocent. “I put a pair in my cart,” she admitted. “That isn’t the same as buying them. They’re simply waiting somewhere while I make a decision.” Her eyes returned to his. “They’re small. Soft black ones, on quite a thin band. I thought the bigger ones might be uncomfortable after a while.” She smiled, aware that she was doing very little to make this sound like a passing thought. “I did look at the reviews.”

She was prepared to agree immediately about keeping the costume simple. Then he reconsidered the whiskers, and her entire expression changed. Her eyebrows lifted, her hand dropped from beneath her chin, and she turned more fully toward him. “You’d let me do whiskers?” The question came out with such delighted surprise that there was no disguising how little she had expected it. “I thought I was being ambitious asking for the ears.”

The mention of eyeliner only made it worse. Ellie’s lips parted, and she gave him a quick, assessing look, her attention catching on his eyes before returning to his face as a whole. “Oh, now, hang on. Eyeliner as well?” She was smiling broadly by then, her fingers closing around his forearm. “You can’t casually offer me that and expect me to remain sensible. I was prepared to be very grateful for a headband.”

She leaned closer, studying him with a concentration he had previously earned only while handling pastry. “Just a little along your lashes. Nothing heavy. And three fine whiskers on each side.” Her fingertips lifted toward his cheek, hovering as she imagined where they would go. “You’d look so good.” The words escaped with uncomplicated enthusiasm before she lowered her hand, laughing softly at herself. “Sorry. I’m getting ahead of you. I honestly didn’t think you’d want to do that much.”

His refusal of the tail received an immediate, generous nod. “Absolutely. No tail. Gone. Forgotten.” She made a small sweeping gesture over the table, dismissing it from consideration. The eyeliner had clearly improved his negotiating position. “I wasn’t attached to it anyway. I’m much more interested in your face now.” A beat passed before her smile turned sheepish. “More than usual, I mean. I was already reasonably interested.”

When he asked about the occasion, she relaxed back into her chair, although the pleasure remained in her expression. “I thought we could go out together. See what’s happening in town, maybe meet everyone for a drink if there’s something on.” Her thumb brushed along his forearm before her hand settled back in her lap. “I haven’t committed us to anything. I wanted to know whether you liked the idea first.” She tilted her head. “Although seeing you dressed as my cat is a perfectly respectable evening’s entertainment in its own right.”

His offer to find another night if Halloween itself didn’t work made her nod. “That’s fine. We’ll check. I don’t mind doing it on a different night.” She was already picturing getting ready with him, standing close enough to draw the whiskers while trying not to laugh and spoil the line. The thought pleased her almost as much as the prospect of going out. “And you can see the dress. It’s the black one with the fitted waist and the little sleeves. Short, with a skirt that moves nicely.” She gestured lightly over her own shoulder. “I thought sheer tights, boots, and a pointed hat with a ribbon. Maybe a tiny velvet bow on the ribbon.”

She looked at him for a moment, then added, “The dress isn’t hiding from you. It’s hanging in my wardrobe, behaving beautifully. Some of my clothes manage that.”

His list of feline qualities made her laugh, particularly the reference to his preferred sleeping places. “You do take up a remarkable amount of space for someone who claims he’s only using one side of the bed.” She picked up a fry, considering the comparison. “And you’re extremely pleased with yourself when you’ve done something you think deserves attention. I can see the resemblance.” Her expression softened as she nudged his knee with hers beneath the table. “But I don’t keep you around just because you’re decorative. You’re also very useful when something’s too high up.”

The suggestion that she might have put a spell on him brought a quieter smile to her mouth. She looked at him over the rim of her drink before taking a sip. “Well, if you spend the evening following me around, I’ll try to make it worth the walk.” She set the glass down and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm for a moment, enjoying the closeness. “I’m quite fond of having you beside me. You might have noticed.”

His warning that he could look better than her made Ellie draw back just enough to inspect him again. “That is a risk,” she conceded. “Especially now you’ve offered me eyeliner. I may have created a problem for myself.” She gave his arm a fond pat. “But I’m willing to be brave about it. I’ll stand next to you and tell everyone I did your whiskers.”

The unfinished fry experiment brought her gaze to their plates. “Oh, yours was lovely,” she assured him, reaching for one of her own to make the comparison appear even slightly legitimate. She took a bite, considered it, then nodded. “Mine’s lovely as well. Very difficult to separate them on merit.” Her eyes lifted to his, bright with mischief. “Yours did have the advantage of being handed to me by someone handsome. That probably influenced the result.”

She smiled at his accusation of deliberate distraction but declined to defend herself. There was very little she could say that wouldn’t sound like an admission, and she was enjoying the evening too much to bother finding an innocent explanation. “We’ve covered plenty,” she agreed when he remarked on their conversation. “You should hear everything I haven’t said yet. I’ve been exercising restraint.” She glanced toward the kitchen, listening briefly, then settled back when there was still no sound from the timer. The buns could have a few more minutes. She had no intention of abandoning this conversation early.

As he laid out his final conditions, Ellie listened with exaggerated care, nodding at each point. “Black clothes. Ears. Whiskers. A little eyeliner, which you volunteered and which I will now be thinking about for the rest of dinner.” She lifted a finger of her own. “No tail. One complaint included. Any further complaints must be accompanied by a compelling reason or a kiss.” Her smile widened. “And you may have an opinion about my costume. I reserve the right to become very attached to my hat.”

His request to see the dress earned a simple, easy agreement. “I can show you when we get home.” The suggestion of scratches behind his ears made her reach up, gently brushing her fingertips through the loose hair there. “This sort of thing?” she asked, letting her touch linger briefly. “I think I can manage that. The praise will depend on your behavior. I don’t want to encourage anything dreadful.”

Then he returned to what she had said earlier, and the small pause in her fingers gave her away before her smile did. “You’re going to be very pleased with yourself about knowing that, aren’t you?” she asked softly. She lowered her hand to his shoulder and squeezed it once, her eyes remaining on his. “I can already tell.” The color in her cheeks returned, but she looked more amused than embarrassed as she picked up her drink again.

His final request made her glance at the sheet of bees, then back at him with affectionate disbelief. “For the ears? Certainly.” She leaned over to examine the designs, selecting one with particular care before lifting the corner from the backing. “But for letting me do eyeliner and whiskers, I think you’ve earned something a little better.” She pressed the little bee gently onto his shirt near his shoulder, smoothing it with her thumb, then leaned in and kissed his cheek. When she pulled back, her eyes went to his again, still bright with the possibilities he had unexpectedly given her. “You have no idea how cute you’re going to look. I’m going to have to be terribly normal about it, and I don’t think I’m qualified.”

Ellie’s smile softened as she looked at him, her hand lingering on his shoulder beside the little bee she had just pressed onto his shirt. For once, she didn’t have another teasing remark ready. She leaned closer instead, bringing her free hand to his cheek, and kissed him gently. It was a small, unhurried kiss, her thumb resting near the corner of his mouth, and when she drew back she stayed close enough that her nose brushed his.

Her eyes moved over his face. His hair was still gathered in that loose bun, but the shorter curls had escaped around his ears, softening the edges of his sideburns. She brushed one back with her fingertips, only for it to curl forward again, and a faint smile touched her mouth. She had missed that. Missed being near enough to notice it, near enough to touch him without first reaching for her phone. Beneath the cinnamon and warm food, she caught the familiar scent of his skin and whatever he had used in the shower after practice. She leaned a little nearer, her fingers slipping behind his ear.

Then she kissed him again. This time she stayed, turning toward him in her chair as her hand settled at the back of his neck. The kiss deepened slowly, with a tenderness that made her fingers tighten lightly against his shirt. She had spent the evening laughing with him, finding little reasons to brush his arm or stand beside him, but now that she had stopped talking, she could feel how much she had wanted this. His mouth beneath hers. The warmth of him within reach. Enough time to kiss him without making it a quick goodbye.

She eased back only a fraction before leaning in for one more lingering kiss, her thumb stroking softly beneath the loose curls at his nape. When she finally opened her eyes, her expression was warm and a little vulnerable, all her earlier mischief quieted. “I missed you,” she murmured. Her fingers traced the edge of his cheek, and she let out a small breath that almost became a laugh. “I know I’ve already said that. But I really did.”

She stayed close afterward, unwilling to put much space between them. Her hand slid from his neck to rest against his chest, and she looked at him with a small, affectionate smile, taking in the stubborn curl beside his ear again. This time she left it where it was.

Tyler had been enjoying himself immensely, particularly the way Ellie seemed to become more enthusiastic about his Halloween costume with every additional detail he agreed to. He'd been fully prepared to make another comment about the increasingly generous compensation package she'd apparently decided he deserved, but the words never made it out. The change in her expression caught his attention first, followed by the tenderness of her touch, and whatever clever thing he'd been considering suddenly seemed considerably less interesting. He turned more fully toward her, his hand finding her waist as he returned the kiss, and for a moment he forgot about the dinner sitting in front of them. By the time she drew back, his smile had softened into something quieter, his attention remaining on her face. “Hey,” he murmured. “You can tell me twice, sweetheart.”

He understood what she meant without needing her to explain it further. He'd felt it himself plenty of times lately, usually in the most inconvenient moments, like when he finished a long practice and reached for his phone because he wanted to tell her something that wasn't remotely important. He enjoyed talking to her, but there were things a phone call couldn't quite give him, and being able to reach for her whenever he wanted was high on that list. He'd missed the ease of having her close throughout the day, the little distractions and conversations that happened without either of them having to make time for a call. Tonight had been full of those things, and he wasn't interested in rushing through the parts of it they still had. He brought his free hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb gently along the curve of it. “I missed you, too, El,” he said, his voice warm and straightforward. “A lot.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, taking his time with it. His hand slipped around to the back of her neck, his fingers resting lightly beneath her hair as he drew her closer. He liked the way she kissed him when neither of them was trying to steal a quick moment between other things, when there was no immediate reason to pull away and get back to whatever they'd been doing. It had been one of the things he'd missed most while they were apart, and he wasn't particularly inclined to deny himself the opportunity now. When he finally eased back, his forehead stayed close to hers, and he let out a soft, amused breath. “You know, I've been trying to eat that burger for about twenty minutes,” he murmured. “Starting to think you're doing this on purpose.”

There was no complaint behind it. He'd happily let his dinner get a little cold if it meant another few minutes with her like this, although his stomach might eventually object to the arrangement. He drew back far enough to look at her, taking in the color in her cheeks and the expression that had made him forget the very important argument he'd been preparing about the Halloween costume. “For the record, I'm not having a particularly easy time concentrating on dinner either,” he admitted, his mouth curving. “And I'm supposed to be the professional athlete here. Excellent discipline, exceptional focus, all that.” He glanced toward the half-unwrapped burger on his plate before returning his attention to her. “Apparently, none of that counts when my girlfriend decides she wants to kiss me.”

He gave her one last affectionate kiss before settling back into his chair, though he made no particular effort to put distance between them. The little table wasn't especially large, and he had to move his drink farther from the edge after nearly catching it with his elbow. He managed another bite of his burger before his attention fell to the small bee Ellie had pressed onto his shirt. Looking down, he lifted the fabric slightly to inspect the cheerful little creature now occupying a place near his shoulder. “You know what's ridiculous?” he asked, studying it with genuine amusement. “I'm actually quite pleased with this.” He glanced toward the remaining sheet on the table, already picturing the reactions he'd get when one appeared on his water bottle at the rink. “You're still getting your picture tomorrow, by the way. Although I'm warning you, if the guys start asking for their own motivational bees, I might end up creating a situation.”

He wasn't especially concerned about the possibility. His teammates were perfectly capable of finding amusement in considerably less interesting things, and he suspected the stickers would either become an immediate joke or inspire an unexpectedly competitive collection of them. Knowing the group, both outcomes were possible. He returned his attention to his burger, managing another proper bite before reaching for his drink. The food was still good, even if he'd become thoroughly distracted from eating it, and he was glad he'd ordered more than enough for both of them. He took a moment to swallow before glancing toward Ellie with renewed amusement. “And speaking of situations you've created, I don't think you quite understand what you've done with this cat costume.”

He set his drink down, studying her with the kind of deliberately serious expression that usually meant he was about to be insufferable. “You were prepared to settle for a headband. Now you've got me agreeing to eyeliner, whiskers, and apparently some sort of elaborate hair arrangement.” He gestured toward the loose knot at the back of his head, where several shorter strands had escaped despite his earlier attempts to contain them. “At this rate, you're going to spend more time getting me ready than yourself.” His mouth curved as he remembered the unguarded excitement on her face when he'd mentioned the additional makeup. He hadn't expected such a small concession to make her quite that happy, and now he was genuinely curious to see what she came up with. “Although I have to admit, the way you reacted to the eyeliner was pretty convincing. I don't think I've ever seen somebody so excited about the prospect of drawing on my face.”

He reached for another fry, considering the practicalities with a confidence that suggested he'd already decided the whole thing was going to be entertaining. He didn't have any objection to wearing makeup for a costume, particularly when the proposed result sounded considerably more flattering than most of the ridiculous outfits he'd worn for Halloween over the years. The idea of Ellie standing close enough to draw careful lines around his eyes had its own appeal, too, although he suspected the process would involve considerably more laughter than she was currently accounting for. “Just don't expect me to sit there looking serious the whole time,” he warned her. “If you tell me to hold still while you've got a little brush near my face, I'm almost definitely going to find that funny.” He considered that for a moment before adding, “And I'm not taking responsibility if you end up drawing one whisker halfway to my ear. That's on the artist.”

His attention shifted briefly toward the darkened window, and he found himself imagining the two of them dressed for whatever Halloween plans they eventually settled on. Hearing Ellie describe her dress had made him considerably more interested in seeing the finished result. A short black dress, fitted at the waist, boots, and a pointed hat with a ribbon sounded like something she'd look fantastic wearing. He could already imagine her standing in front of the mirror, making small adjustments until everything sat exactly the way she wanted. He suspected he'd spend a good portion of that process being asked for opinions and then discovering she had already decided what she preferred. That was fine with him. He'd always liked watching her get ready, even when it involved occupying himself for an extra twenty minutes while she considered the merits of two nearly identical accessories.

“I do want to see that dress tonight, though,” he said, reaching for his burger again. “The whole thing sounds pretty good, but I feel like I'm going to need a proper demonstration before I can give you my professional assessment.” His grin widened when he considered the little velvet bow she'd mentioned. “And I think you should definitely do the bow. Very important detail. Really ties the whole terrifying witch situation together.” He gave a small, appreciative shake of his head, already entertained by the contrast between Ellie's proposed appearance and the idea of her casting spells on unsuspecting townspeople. “Although I feel like you're going to be the least intimidating witch anybody's ever met. Somebody'll ask you for directions and you'll end up helping them find their car.”

He took another bite, letting himself enjoy the food for a moment before continuing. “Actually, that reminds me. You said we could meet everybody for a drink if something's going on.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin, considering the group of people they might end up spending Halloween with. There were enough friends and familiar faces around Evergreen that he doubted they'd have much trouble finding something entertaining to do, provided his hockey schedule cooperated. He wasn't concerned about making a formal plan tonight, but he liked the possibility of an evening out with Ellie when neither of them had to worry about work. “I'm good with that. We can see what everyone's doing once I've checked the calendar.” His expression turned mischievous. “Although if we end up going out with Jack and the others, I'm going to need advance warning. That man will never let me forget the ears.”

The prospect amused him more than it worried him. Tyler had known Jack and the rest of their Evergreen circle long enough that he'd become accustomed to the particular brand of teasing that accompanied almost any group gathering. He could handle a few jokes about dressing as a cat, especially when he'd agreed to the costume voluntarily. In fact, he was already considering whether he could make the entire thing more entertaining by refusing to acknowledge that there was anything unusual about his appearance. He'd simply turn up wearing his black clothes, cat ears, and whatever eyeliner Ellie decided was necessary, then conduct himself as though the whole thing were perfectly ordinary. The idea appealed to him considerably. He could already imagine Jack's reaction, and the thought was enough to make him laugh quietly into his drink.

“Although,” he added, glancing back at her, “I do have one concern about your proposed complaint policy.” He adopted a thoughtful expression, apparently returning to the negotiations they'd settled earlier. “You said I get one free complaint, but every additional complaint has to come with a compelling reason or a kiss.” He paused, allowing the implications of that arrangement to become perfectly clear. “Sweetheart, that's a terrible business model. You've made kissing my girlfriend the penalty for complaining.” His mouth curved into a thoroughly pleased grin. “I could spend the entire evening telling you how uncomfortable my ears are, and then I'd have an excuse to kiss you every time. I'm not saying I'd take advantage of that, but you've given me an awful lot to work with.”

He was still amused by the idea when his gaze dropped to her hand, and he reached over to lace his fingers loosely through hers. The contact was familiar enough that he barely thought about it, his attention drifting briefly toward the quiet bakery and the dinner they had been taking their time over. He liked that they could spend an evening like this, moving between ridiculous conversations and moments of tenderness without either one requiring much explanation. He was just as comfortable sitting quietly beside her as he was arguing about fictional characters or negotiating the acceptable number of cat accessories. The thought of leaving tomorrow still wasn't particularly appealing, but they'd already established that they had time for breakfast, and he wasn't about to spend tonight dwelling on the drive back to Denver. There would be enough time to think about that in the morning.

His attention shifted toward the kitchen, where the buns had been resting for what felt like a respectable amount of time. The timer hadn't sounded yet, but he knew it couldn't be much longer before Ellie needed to check on them. He was genuinely curious about how they'd turned out so far, particularly whether the slightly uneven spirals had begun to resemble the sort of thing she'd put in her display case. Bertie, of course, remained a separate concern. Tyler had become strangely invested in the little end piece, and he was determined to see it through to completion. “You know,” he said, turning back toward her, “if Bertie comes out looking better than the others, I'm going to be unbearable about it.” He considered the possibility with a grin. “I might have to take a picture of him before breakfast tomorrow. Send it to the guys along with the bee on my water bottle. Really establish my new identity as a man with a lot of very wholesome hobbies.”

He reached for another fry, only to find that he'd managed to make a respectable dent in his portion despite all the distractions. He glanced toward the communal carton, then toward Ellie, considering whether restarting their earlier investigation would be worth the inevitable argument. He decided against it for the moment. She'd already given him a perfectly good explanation for why his fries had enjoyed an unfair advantage, and he wasn't particularly interested in disputing a conclusion that involved her finding him handsome. Instead, he ate one of the remaining fries, giving a small nod of satisfaction as he settled farther back into his chair. “You know what? I'm willing to call the fry situation a draw,” he announced. “Mostly because I'm feeling generous. And because I've got much more important things to discuss with you now.”

His expression changed as he turned toward her again, amusement giving way to something warmer without losing the familiar confidence in his voice. “For example, I think you should know that you're going to look ridiculously good in that witch costume,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And I'm fully prepared to spend the evening following you around looking like an idiot because you asked me to.” He paused, then corrected himself with a crooked smile. “A very handsome idiot, obviously. We've established that.” He leaned closer, brushing his mouth against hers in a brief, affectionate kiss before easing back. “And I love you. Just thought I'd throw that in there while we're discussing important things.”

He didn't linger over the declaration or turn it into something that required an equally elaborate response. He'd said it because he'd wanted to, and there was something pleasant about being able to do that whenever the thought occurred to him. His thumb moved once over her knuckles before he returned his attention to the last few bites of his burger. The bakery remained comfortably quiet, the small lights in the window reflecting against the dark glass while the music played softly in the background. He could feel the lingering fatigue of practice in his legs, but it had settled into something manageable now that he'd had a chance to sit down and eat. He was looking forward to getting back to Ellie's place, changing into something comfortable, and spending the rest of the evening with absolutely no need to be particularly productive.

The timer sounded from the kitchen a few moments later, its bright electronic chirping cutting through the music and bringing Tyler's attention toward the doorway. He glanced at Ellie, then down at their joined hands, making no immediate attempt to get up. “Well,” he said, adopting an expression of mild resignation, “sounds like our children are demanding attention.” He gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it, then pushed his chair back carefully, remembering the state of his legs before trying to stand too quickly. Once upright, he stretched briefly, rolling his shoulders as he looked toward the kitchen. “All right, let's see how they're doing. I've got a particular interest in Bertie's development, and I'd like to make sure he hasn't been bullied by the others.”

He reached for the empty wrappers and gathered them into the paper bag, clearing enough of the table that neither of them would have to deal with a mess when they returned. The remaining fries could wait, and there was no reason to rush the next stage of the recipe simply because the timer had gone off. He knew Ellie would want to check the dough before deciding whether it was ready for the oven, and he'd spent enough of the evening following her instructions to understand that the timing wasn't always exact. He glanced toward her with a familiar, easy smile, one hand resting against the back of his chair. “Come on, sweetheart. Let's go inspect our masterpieces.” His grin widened as another thought occurred to him. “And later, you can show me those cat ears you've got sitting in your cart. I need to see exactly what I've agreed to before you start planning my makeup.”

Ellie let her fingers linger at the side of his neck, her smile small and unguarded. “You might get tired of hearing it,” she murmured, although she looked rather pleased by the permission. She met his next kiss without hesitation, turning toward him until the edge of her chair pressed against her leg. For a little while, she forgot the table altogether. When she finally eased back, her thumb brushed the soft curl beneath his ear, and his complaint about dinner made her laugh. “All right. I’ll let you eat. I don’t want to be responsible for you wasting away in a bakery. It would look dreadful.”

She settled back, picked up a fry, and made a visible effort to direct her attention toward her own food. It lasted until he mentioned his exceptional focus. “Well, now I feel accomplished,” she said, glancing sideways at him. “I’ve disrupted professional training without even standing up.” Her knee stayed against his beneath the table, a comfortable point of contact while she took another bite. She was willing to leave his mouth alone for a few minutes. Moving away altogether seemed unnecessary.

The bee had adhered slightly crookedly to his shirt, one little wing higher than the other. Ellie reached over and smoothed the lifting corner with her fingertip. “There. Now you look very distinguished.” She was already looking forward to the promised photograph, especially the thought of receiving it between the morning rush and whatever task she inevitably remembered afterward. “If anyone asks, tell them the bees are awarded for effort. I don’t want somebody deciding they’re above encouragement because they’ve scored a goal.” Her mouth curved. “There’s always room for personal growth.”

She was taking a sip when he returned to the costume, and she lowered her glass with immediate interest. “Your hair is hardly an elaborate arrangement. You’ve already done it.” She gestured toward his bun, then the loose pieces around his face. “I’d just adjust the ears so they didn’t pull, and leave those curls out. They’re part of your charm.” Her eyes moved briefly over his face as she imagined the finished look again. “And you offered me eyeliner. I was trying to be restrained before that. Now I have possibilities.”

His warning about keeping still brought a thoughtful little crease between her eyebrows. “You can laugh between whiskers. We’ll work around it.” She reached for her napkin and dabbed her fingers before folding it loosely beside her plate. “But if you make me laugh while I’m doing your eyes, we’ll have to stop until I can behave. I’m not having you explain to anyone that your girlfriend injured you trying to make you a handsome cat.” The seriousness lasted only until she looked at him again. “Although I would be devastated if one side looked better than the other. You’d have a preferred side for photographs, and I’d never hear the end of it.”

The dress was another matter. Ellie’s smile became distinctly more knowing, and she turned a little farther toward him. “You can see it tonight. I think you’ll like it.” Her fingers traced a small curve in the air near her waist as she explained. “It’s fitted through the middle, and the top has those shaped seams that hold everything in place. Quite firmly.” She paused, apparently deciding accuracy required less delicate language. “It’s tight, and it pushes my boobs up. That’s really the main thing you need to know.”

Her eyebrows wiggled before she could maintain the presentation any longer, and she broke into a laugh. “The skirt’s very pretty, though. It flares a little when I turn. So there’s something for everyone.” She picked up her drink, looking far too pleased with herself. “And the bow will make me look respectable. I’m relying on it.”

His prediction about helping someone find their car made her consider the accusation for a moment. “I’d have a broom. I could point.” She took a sip, then added, “And I can be intimidating. You’ve never heard me speak to somebody who’s promised a delivery three times and still hasn’t brought it.” Her eyes brightened with amusement. “Very frightening. Lots of ‘as we discussed.’ Occasionally I stop saying thank you at the end.”

She nodded when he suggested checking with everyone after looking at the calendar. “We’ll find out. I’d like to go somewhere we can actually talk for a bit, though. Somewhere with music, but where I don’t have to shout directly into your ear all night.” Her expression softened at the thought of an evening out with him, of getting ready together and leaving with his hand in hers. “And I’ll warn you if Jack’s coming. I can’t promise he’ll behave.” A small smile returned. “But if he teases you, I’ll kiss you in front of him. Then at least you’ll be getting something out of it.”

She listened to the flaw in her complaint policy with increasingly obvious amusement. By the time he finished, she had tucked her lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to look concerned. “Oh, no,” she said softly. “I’ve arranged to spend the evening being kissed by someone I’m very fond of.” She gave a little sigh and rested back in her chair. “I suppose I’ll have to cope.”

Her fingers settled naturally between his when he reached for her hand. She let their hands rest on the table while she finished a few more bites, occasionally brushing her thumb along the side of his. The meal had become pleasantly untidy: wrappers folded back, a collection of sauce lids, one carton of fries gradually becoming everybody’s portion regardless of their earlier negotiations. Ellie liked it that way. She didn’t feel any need to straighten it while they were still enjoying themselves.

“Take Bertie’s picture before the frosting,” she advised. “Afterward, he’ll look like all the others, and he deserves to have his individuality documented.” She glanced toward the kitchen, then back at him. “You could send it with a very serious description. Notes of apple. Hints of cinnamon. Slightly questionable posture.” Her laugh was quiet, affectionate. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed making them. I’ll have to think of something else we can try.”

She accepted his ruling on the fries with a small nod. “A fair result. We should celebrate by finishing them.” But his next words distracted her from reaching into the carton. She looked at him, her smile changing as she felt the squeeze of his hand. The costume was still a lovely prospect; hearing how readily he wanted to be part of the evening made it lovelier. She met the quick kiss with a gentle press of her mouth, then stayed turned toward him afterward.

“I love you, too,” she said. Her thumb moved over his knuckles, and she smiled down at their hands for a moment before looking back up. “Even if you do end up prettier than me. I’ll try to be gracious about it.”

The timer interrupted before she could find another excuse to remain in her chair. Ellie glanced toward the kitchen and let out a small breath. “All right. Time to see whether they’ve used their quiet time wisely.” She stood, stretching her fingers once before gathering the empty sauce containers. The remaining food took only a moment to tidy, and she left their drinks together on the clear part of the table.

On the way past him, she rested her hand briefly at his back. “The ears are waiting for your inspection. You can scroll through all the photographs and tell me whether the model looks comfortable.” Her smile widened. “There are customer pictures, too. Very thorough research available. I haven’t made this decision lightly.”

In the kitchen, she silenced the timer and washed her hands, then went straight to the covered pans. The first cloth lifted to reveal rounded spirals filling much more of the space between them. Ellie’s face brightened. “Oh, lovely.” She leaned down slightly, checking the rise before pressing one with a careful fingertip. The dough yielded softly and recovered at a leisurely pace. She checked a second, then nodded to herself and set the cloth aside.

“They’re ready.” She looked toward Tyler, pleased enough that it showed plainly. “Look how much they’ve filled out.” The second pan received the same inspection, including a particularly gentle check of the little end piece. Bertie had become broader and puffier, his exposed apple tucked more securely into the expanding dough. Ellie smiled down at him. “He’s done very well. Clearly thrives on attention.”

She pulled on her oven mitts and carried the pans over one at a time, sliding them onto the waiting racks with room for the heat to circulate. Once the door was closed, she set the timer for an initial check and left the oven light on. There was something satisfying about finally seeing them in there after all the conversation and small adjustments that had gone into getting them ready.

Ellie slipped off the mitts and set them beside the oven, then turned back to him. “There. We’ve officially reached the part where opening the door every three minutes will make me cross.” She stepped close and rested her hands lightly against his waist, her smile already undoing the warning. “Fortunately, I can think of several ways to keep you occupied.”

She leaned up and kissed him once, soft and brief, then remained close enough to brush her nose against his. “First, you can come sit down again. I’ll show you the ears, and you can tell me I’ve chosen the right ones.” Her fingers curled gently in the sides of his shirt. “Then we’ll decide whether your very encouraging bee needs to come off before it goes through my washing machine. I’d hate for your first award to end so tragically.”

Ellie caught his hand and led him back to their table, settling into the chair beside his before pulling her phone from her pocket. “Eat while it’s still reasonably warm,” she encouraged, nudging his food closer. “I’ll show you. You only have to look and offer the occasional opinion.” She tucked her knee against his beneath the table and opened the saved listing, turning the screen toward him. “There. These are the ears.”

She enlarged the photograph with two fingers so he could see the soft black fabric and narrow headband. “They’re quite small, see? And the band’s covered, so it shouldn’t dig in behind your ears.” She held the phone where he could comfortably look while eating, her shoulder resting against his. “I thought these would blend into your hair better than the shiny ones. Those looked a bit like something you’d win at a fair.”

A swipe brought up a customer photograph, and Ellie leaned closer to inspect it with him. “That’s a better picture of the size. The first one makes them look enormous.” Her eyes flicked toward his bun, then back to the screen. “Yours would sit just in front of that, with the curls left loose around your ears.” She smiled, plainly enjoying being able to show him what she had been imagining. “You see why I got excited?”

She moved to another saved page, revealing a softly pointed black witch’s hat with a slightly crooked tip. “And this is mine. I like that it bends a little. The really stiff ones make me feel like I ought to be directing traffic.” She scrolled to a side view, keeping the phone angled toward him. “I’d take that ribbon off and use my velvet one instead. A little bow here, on the side.”

Ellie paused long enough to steal a fry from the communal carton, then opened two photographs side by side. “Now, this is the important bit.” She tipped the screen closer, her expression turning earnestly inquisitive. “Black ribbon, or that dark plum? The plum would be pretty against the dress, but the black might look more delicate.” Her free hand settled lightly on his knee as she waited, smiling. “Finish your bite. I’m enthusiastic, but I’m not unreasonable.”

Tyler finished chewing, taking a moment to study the two photographs before giving his answer. “Plum,” he decided, nodding toward the second option. “Definitely plum. You've already got a dark dress, dark boots, a dark hat, and I'm apparently going to be dressed head to toe in black. I think a little color would look good.” He leaned closer to examine the photographs, his shoulder resting comfortably against hers. “Plus, you'll actually see it in pictures. The black one kind of disappears into the hat.” He gave her a satisfied little grin. “There you go. That's my vote. Don't ask me to explain color theory, but I know which one I like.”

He returned his attention to the photographs of the cat ears, taking a better look at how they sat on someone's head. They were smaller than he'd imagined, and the narrow band seemed like something he could wear for a few hours without constantly having to adjust it. “Yeah, those are good,” he said, nodding toward the listing. “Get those. They're simple, they're not enormous, and they don't look like something somebody pulled out of a party favor bag.” His eyes flicked toward Ellie, amusement returning. “Although I'm impressed you read reviews for cat ears. Were there people leaving detailed complaints about the fit? Because now I'm kind of curious.”

He was teasing, but the amount of consideration she'd given something as ordinary as a headband was entirely characteristic of her. Ellie could spend twenty minutes explaining why one small detail worked better than another, and he'd learned that asking a question usually got him a more interesting answer than he'd expected. He liked that she'd thought about whether the ears would be comfortable, especially since he hadn't been particularly concerned about the practicalities until she'd mentioned them. He took another fry, then remembered something else she'd said while they were discussing their costumes. “Speaking of things you've apparently put some thought into,” he said, turning toward her, “I'm still thinking about that dress you were describing.”

His interest was obvious enough that he made no attempt to disguise it. “The fitted waist? Sounds great. Little sleeves, skirt that moves when you turn? I'm sure that's all very nice.” He paused, his eyes meeting hers as a crooked smile spread across his face. “But then you got to the part about what it does for your boobs, and I'm gonna be honest with you, sweetheart. That's where you really got my attention.” He laughed, shaking his head before finally eating the fry. “You can't tell me something like that and then expect me to sit here having a serious conversation about ribbon. I'm trying, but you're not making it easy.”

He was looking forward to seeing the dress, although he wasn't about to insist Ellie change into it purely for his benefit after the day she'd had. She'd already agreed to show it to him when they got home, and he was perfectly capable of appreciating it on a hanger if that was what she felt like doing. Of course, if she decided to try it on, he certainly wasn't going to object. He'd always enjoyed watching her get ready, especially when she occasionally stopped to ask his opinion about something and then looked thoroughly pleased when he gave the answer she wanted. “Seriously, though, I want to see it,” he added. “And keep the little bow. I like that.” His mouth curved. “The dress sounds like it's already doing plenty. You can let the hat be cute.”

He took another bite of his burger, which had cooled slightly during their conversation but was still good enough to deserve his attention. The customer photograph remained visible on Ellie's phone, and he glanced at the ears again while he chewed. He could picture the general idea now, especially with his hair tied back and the shorter pieces left loose around his face. The eyeliner and whiskers would probably make the biggest difference, and judging by Ellie's reaction earlier, she was already looking forward to that part. “And I can hold still while you do my eyes,” he told her. “I'm not completely hopeless. You just watched me spend half the evening doing exactly what you told me to do.” He pointed toward her with a faint grin. “But if you start laughing while you've got something sharp near my eyeball, I'm blaming you. Just so we're clear.”

He didn't have any particular objection to wearing a little makeup, especially when it was for a costume. Besides, he'd agreed to the whole thing voluntarily, and he rather liked the idea of Ellie being the one to put it on him. He suspected she'd take the job seriously enough that he'd have to work to keep from laughing, particularly once she started concentrating on making the whiskers symmetrical. “Actually, we should probably try it before Halloween,” he suggested. “Just once, so we're not figuring everything out five minutes before we're supposed to leave.” He considered the idea, then added, “I'll even behave while you're doing the eyeliner. But if you draw three little whiskers on my face and expect me not to make at least one stupid joke, you're asking a lot.”

He remembered her earlier defense of her ability to intimidate people, and an amused smile crossed his face. He'd heard enough of her conversations with suppliers to recognize the particular tone she adopted when somebody was testing her patience. “And I believe you about being intimidating, by the way,” he said. “I've heard you say ‘as we discussed’ before. That's when I know somebody's really pissed you off.” He shook his head, remembering how carefully polite she could become when she was trying not to lose her temper. “You don't even raise your voice. You just get nicer and nicer until somehow it sounds like a threat.” He laughed, giving her an appreciative look. “Terrifying witch. Excellent customer service.”

The idea of going out together appealed to him, particularly if they could find somewhere that wasn't so loud they spent the entire evening shouting over the music. Tyler enjoyed a good night out, and he wasn't opposed to somewhere lively, but he'd rather be able to have an actual conversation than spend three hours yelling directly into Ellie's ear. Meeting up with friends sounded good, too, provided the evening didn't turn into something that required an unreasonable amount of organizing. “I'm good with that,” he said. “A few drinks, some music, maybe a little dancing. Sounds like a pretty decent Halloween to me.” He took another sip of his drink before adding, “We'll check the schedule when we get home. If I've got the night free, we'll see what everybody's doing.”

Jack's potential involvement wasn't much of a concern. Tyler had known him long enough to accept that showing up in cat ears would probably earn him a comment, and he was more than capable of giving one back. He wasn't embarrassed about dressing up with Ellie, particularly when she'd chosen something that wouldn't require him to spend the entire evening uncomfortable. “And don't worry about Jack,” he continued. “He can give me shit about the ears all he wants. I've known him long enough that I'd be more concerned if he didn't say anything.” He reached for another fry, his mouth twitching. “Although he'd better show up in an actual costume if he's planning on making fun of mine. I'm not taking fashion criticism from a guy who shows up in jeans and calls it a night.”

He could already picture the inevitable photographs Ellie would want before they left, particularly once she'd finished doing his makeup. He'd probably end up making a few faces just to annoy her, but he wanted at least one decent picture of them together. It wasn't often they got to dress up for something completely ridiculous, and he liked the idea of having a photograph that captured the evening without looking like they'd been caught halfway through an argument. “I do want one good picture before we go out, though,” he told her. “One where we're both looking at the camera and I haven't started being an idiot yet.” His grin widened. “Then you can take as many embarrassing ones as you want. I know you're going to anyway.”

He reached for another fry, then glanced down at the little bee still attached to his shirt. It had survived dinner remarkably well, considering how much he'd been moving around, and he brushed a fingertip over its edge. “And don't worry, I'm taking this guy off before the shirt goes in the wash,” he assured her. “He's earned a better retirement than getting stuck to the inside of a dryer.” He glanced toward the remaining sheet beside his phone. “I'll put another one on my water bottle tomorrow. You'll get your picture, and we'll see how long it takes somebody to notice.”

He suspected his teammates would find the stickers entertaining enough that at least a few would ask for one, especially if he started handing them out without explaining why. Most of the guys were perfectly capable of turning the smallest thing into a competition, and he'd seen considerably stranger jokes develop in the locker room. “I might actually start giving them out,” he said, considering the possibility. “Good practice, good game, somebody remembers to hydrate without being told.” He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Maybe one for whoever manages to go an entire day without saying something stupid.” He immediately shook his head. “Nah. Forget that one. Nobody's ever getting a sticker.”

He laughed at the thought, then reached for his burger again, finally giving the remaining portion some attention. The screen stayed angled between them, Ellie's knee rested comfortably against his beneath the table, and the smell of apples and cinnamon was beginning to make itself known from the kitchen. The buns still had time left before their first check, and he wasn't about to interfere with something that seemed to be going perfectly well without him. He was curious to see how they'd turn out, especially after all the effort they'd put into getting the spirals right, but there was no reason to rush it. For now, he was happy to finish dinner and let Ellie tell him whatever else she'd been considering for Halloween.

“So, plum ribbon, little black ears, and whatever whiskers you've decided are going to make me look irresistible,” he said, glancing toward her phone again. “Sounds like we've got ourselves a costume.” He gave the photographs one last approving look before turning toward her. “And I appreciate you making sure those things aren't going to dig into my head all night. Very considerate.” A grin pulled at his mouth as he leaned slightly closer. “Although I've got a feeling you're mostly worried I'll take them off and ruin your pictures. Can't have your very handsome cat going around looking like a regular guy.”

He took another bite of his burger, considering whether there were any additional details he should be preparing himself for. The dress, hat, ribbon, and his own outfit all sounded straightforward enough, but he'd known Ellie long enough to suspect she might discover another accessory worth discussing before Halloween arrived. He didn't mind. Half the entertainment was watching her get excited about something, especially when she had a particular result in mind and wanted him involved. He was happy to let her enjoy the planning, provided she understood that he intended to spend the evening actually having fun rather than standing still while she adjusted his headband every twenty minutes. Although, given the compensation policy she'd established earlier, he was beginning to think an occasional complaint might work out rather well for him.

“Actually, I've got one more question,” he said after swallowing. He glanced toward her phone, then back at her, a familiar, mischievous expression settling across his face. “When we get home and you show me this dress, am I getting the full witch demonstration, or are you just holding it up and telling me how amazing I'm supposed to imagine you looking?” He paused, taking another sip of his drink as though he hadn't just made a thoroughly self-serving suggestion. “Because I've been pretty cooperative tonight. I spread butter, distributed apples, learned how to make buns, agreed to eyeliner, and somehow ended up volunteering to be your cat.” His grin widened as he leaned a little closer. “I'm just saying, baby. A private fashion show doesn't seem like an unreasonable thing to ask.”

He wasn't entirely serious about expecting one, although he certainly wouldn't complain if Ellie decided to indulge him. He knew she'd had a long day, and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel obligated to spend another half hour getting dressed up when she'd been looking forward to relaxing at home. Still, there was nothing wrong with letting her know he was interested. He reached for her hand, drawing it comfortably toward him across the small space between their chairs. “No pressure, though. If you want to save the big reveal for Halloween, that's fine.” His smile softened without losing its playful edge. “I just like seeing you dressed up. Especially when you know exactly how good you look.”

He kept her hand in his while his attention returned to the photographs one last time. “But seriously, get the plum ribbon,” he added. “That's my answer, and I'm sticking with it.” He gave the black option another glance before looking back at her. “And don't come back tomorrow with six other shades of purple for me to choose from. I've made my decision.” His grin widened as he nodded toward the kitchen. “I'm a busy man, sweetheart. I've got a whole new baking career to think about now. Can't spend all my free time consulting on your wardrobe.”

“Unfortunately, you’ve demonstrated an aptitude for ribbon selection, so you will be receiving further correspondence.” Ellie tapped the plum option, smiling down at her phone. “Possibly swatches. Nothing overwhelming. Just a little envelope marked urgent.”

She saved the selection before she could reconsider it, then returned to the ears. There was something particularly lovely about having him look properly, rather than agreeing with whichever photograph she happened to point at first. She’d liked the plum herself, but hearing him explain how it would show against the hat made her glance at him with a pleased little smile. “You’re right, though. That one. It’ll look pretty with the velvet.”

At his question about the reviews, her eyebrows lifted. “Of course I read them. You have a head I’m rather fond of.” She scrolled until she found the section she wanted and angled the screen toward him again. “Look. This woman wore them for an entire party and forgot she had them on. That’s useful information. This one says they stayed in place while she danced.” Her finger paused above another review. “And this person is upset because they’re smaller than expected, despite there being a photograph of them beside a ruler. I can only do so much with that.”

Ellie took a sip of her drink, listening to his renewed interest in the dress over the rim. By the time she set it down, the beginnings of a thoroughly pleased smile had betrayed her.

“I noticed your attention improving at that part.” She glanced at him sideways. “And here I thought you were developing an appreciation for tailoring.”

She set the phone against her glass so he could still see the ears while she reached for the remainder of her burger. Her knee stayed tucked against his, a small point of contact she was unwilling to surrender merely because dinner required both hands. “It is a very good dress,” she added after swallowing. “It fits properly through here”—she briefly traced the shape of her waist—“and the neckline does a rather impressive amount of work. Everything gets lifted into place.” Her eyebrows gave an unmistakable little wiggle before she picked up her napkin. “Excellent construction. I’m sure that’s what you’ll be admiring.”

The suggestion of practicing his makeup made her turn toward him more fully.

“Oh, we could.” The words came out brighter than she intended, and she laughed at herself. “Sorry. That sounded like you’d offered me a pony.” She reached for her phone again, opening the photograph she had saved for the eyeliner. “But look—this is what I meant. Just a little smudged at the outside. Nothing enormous. And the whiskers would be fine lines, not six great stripes across your cheeks.”

She held the picture beside his face for a moment, considering it, then lowered it with an expression of quiet satisfaction. “Yes. That’s going to be a problem.”

Her smile widened before she could pretend otherwise. “For my concentration. Yours will presumably be excellent, since you’ve promised to behave.”

She let him eat while she looked through the remaining pictures, passing over anything too elaborate. The warmth from his shoulder was comforting against hers, and every so often she found herself looking away from the screen simply because he was there to look at. She caught herself doing it once and tucked her hair behind her ear, returning her attention to a photograph of a crooked hat with more diligence than the task deserved.

“One good picture,” she agreed. “Before we leave, while my lipstick’s still where I put it and you haven’t decided to do anything interesting with your eyebrows.” Her expression softened. “I’d like that, too. A proper one of us.”

She could already imagine keeping it. The thought arrived with such easy certainty that she lingered over it for a moment: his black clothes beside her dress, the little plum bow, the evidence that he had willingly let her fuss over his hair. Something she could look at on an ordinary afternoon when he was back in Denver.

“And I’ll bring the stickers when I visit,” she added, glancing at the bee on his shirt. “Although if you start rewarding people for not saying anything stupid, I’m afraid you’ll have created a very discouraging workplace. Best to start with achievable goals.”

When he called her baby and asked about the private fashion show, Ellie’s thumb stopped moving across the screen.

She looked up at him, lips pressing together around a smile that made the attempt at composure rather pointless. “You’re very pleased with yourself for remembering that, aren’t you?”

There was a little warmth in her cheeks now. She let it stay.

“Yes, I’ll try it on for you.” Her fingers curled comfortably around his. “I was going to anyway. I’ve spent far too long telling you about it to come out holding a hanger.” She tipped her head, considering the practicalities with exaggerated care. “You can sit on the end of the bed and provide your expert opinion. Although I should warn you, if all you say is ‘plum,’ I’ll be disappointed.”

She leaned across the narrow space between their chairs and kissed his cheek, lingering just briefly before settling back beside him. “And I want to. You don’t have to earn it by becoming proficient with butter.”

For a moment she stayed close, her smile gentler now, thumb brushing over his knuckles. Then she retrieved her phone and returned to the hat listing with an air of brisk purpose.

“But first, finish your burger. You can look at this while you eat.” She turned the screen toward him, showing the hat with the selected ribbon color beneath it. “There. Final decision. Plum. No further purples will be submitted for consideration.”

Her gaze slipped toward him.

“Unless this one arrives looking burgundy. Then obviously we’ll have to reconvene.”

Ellie finally locked her phone and set it facedown, satisfied that their costumes had received all the attention they needed for one evening. “There. Decisions made. You’ve been very helpful, and I’m going to resist the urge to reward you by showing you seventeen more things.” She reached for the last of her dinner, her knee still resting against his beneath the table. For a little while, she let herself simply sit there and eat, smiling whenever her eyes wandered toward the bee on his shirt.

By the time the kitchen timer sounded, she had finished her burger and gathered the scattered napkins into the empty carton. “Now we can see how your son’s getting on.” She brushed a hand over his shoulder as she passed, taking the rubbish with her before heading into the kitchen. The smell grew richer near the ovens, warm apples and butter filling the room, and she found herself smiling before she even switched on the oven light.

The buns had risen into one another, their golden tops enclosing little pockets of cinnamon-dark filling. Ellie crouched to inspect them through the glass, then opened the door carefully and checked the center of the batch. A few more minutes, and she was pulling the pans onto the cooling racks, her cheeks warming in the escaping heat. “Oh, look at them.” The pleasure in her voice was immediate. She leaned over the nearest pan, keeping her oven mitts firmly around its handles. “They’ve turned out lovely.”

Bertie remained unmistakable at the end of his row, one side slightly taller than the other, an apple piece peeking out beneath his uneven spiral. Ellie regarded him with fond consideration. “And that one looks like he has something important to tell us.” She glanced toward Tyler, her smile widening. “Probably that he’d like everyone to stop discussing his appearance.”

While the buns cooled, she whisked together the maple frosting, adding the liquid a little at a time until it fell from the whisk in a smooth ribbon. There was a comfortable quiet to finishing the work now. She washed what she used, wiped away the last sticky marks from the counter, and made a note in her recipe book about the lemon. Beneath Tyler’s carefully amended title, she added a small star without mentioning it.

She waited until the heat had settled before spreading frosting over the tops, watching it soften into the creases. Then she chose one of the fuller spirals, eased it out onto a plate, and cut it in half. “All right. You’ve waited very patiently.” Her eyes lifted with a little glimmer of amusement. “Well. You’ve waited.”

Ellie offered him the plate before taking her half, catching a little frosting with her thumb as she lifted it. The first bite made her pause. The dough was soft, the apples still distinct beneath the cinnamon, and the maple gave it exactly the finish she’d hoped for. She glanced down at the remaining piece, then back toward him with an openly delighted smile. “Yes. That’s what I wanted.” She swallowed, already reaching for her pencil. “Remind me tomorrow that I’m happy with it, please. Before I decide it needs something else and cause unnecessary trouble.”

Once the buns had cooled enough to put away, she set aside a small box for breakfast, placing Bertie carefully inside. The rest went into covered trays, ready for the morning. She left a note for Winnie beside the recipe book, checked the ovens, and untied her apron at last. Without it, she suddenly felt how long she’d been wearing it; she rubbed the back of her neck, hung it on its hook, and let out a contented little breath.

The bakery looked ready for morning again. Clean counters, chairs in place, a small box waiting beside her bag. Ellie switched off the kitchen lights and returned to the front, where the window decorations still glowed against the dark glass. She straightened the nearest velvet pumpkin as she passed, then caught herself and smiled. It could survive being slightly crooked for one night.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” she said, turning toward Tyler. There was no teasing in it now, only the lingering warmth of an evening she hadn’t wanted to hurry. She stepped close and smoothed her fingertips lightly over the edge of the bee on his shirt before letting her hand rest against his chest. “Even if you are going to become completely impossible about those buns.”

She rose onto her toes and kissed him, soft and unhurried, her free hand settling at the back of his neck beneath the loose curls. When she drew away, she stayed close for another moment, looking at him with a small, pleased smile. Then she gathered the breakfast box and her bag, switched off the last of the lights, and reached for his hand. At the door, Ellie took one final glance at the quiet little shop before turning the sign and locking up, the scent of cinnamon still clinging to her sleeves.