Lena stood in the kitchen before dawn, the soft whir of the mixer the only sound in the room. Her fingers moved instinctively—flour measured, eggs cracked, sugar folded in. But her mind wasn't on the recipe. It was on the text messages from the night before, the way Walker's words lingered like a touch.
She'd told herself the space would be good. That she needed to breathe. But now, with the sun not yet up and her apartment cold without his warmth, it didn't feel like breathing. It felt like aching.
Down in the bakery, the bell over the door jingled earlier than usual. She glanced up, frowning. "We're not open yet—"
"I know." Walker stood in the doorway, his coat dusted with snow, a coffee in each hand. "But I needed to see you."
Her heart did something stupidly hopeful in her chest. She crossed her arms. "Couldn't stay away from my muffins, huh?"
"Actually, it's the cinnamon rolls today. And maybe the company."
He stepped inside, placing the coffees on the counter and pulling her gently into his arms. She melted into the embrace before she could talk herself out of it. The world stilled around them, and for a moment, it felt like he'd never left.
"You know you can't just show up before sunrise and expect me not to kiss you, right?" she whispered against his chest.
"Good," he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead. "Because I was kind of counting on that."
She leaned back just enough to look up at him. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—raw, electric, and inevitable. His hand slid along her jaw, tilting her face upward. Then he kissed her.
It wasn't sweet or tentative. It was the kind of kiss that undid days of distance, of restraint. His mouth claimed hers with hunger, his body pressing against hers until she could barely think. Her hands tangled in his coat, pulling him closer, as the warmth between them ignited.
The oven beeped, sharp and jarring, and she broke the kiss with a laugh, breathless and flushed.
"I forgot I had something baking."
"Same," he said, eyes still on her lips.
They pulled apart reluctantly, the heat between them simmering like a kettle not yet boiled. Lena turned to check the oven, trying to collect herself, while Walker leaned against the counter, watching her with a look that made her knees wobble.
He cleared his throat. "I have a meeting in two hours. I should head out soon."
"Of course," she said, suddenly all business. "Don't let your board think you've abandoned them for cinnamon rolls."
He grinned. "Even though I have?"
She threw a dish towel at him. "Go. Before I give you another reason to stay."
He caught it mid-air, winked, and started for the door. "I'll call later."
"You better."
As the door closed behind him, Lena touched her lips and let out a slow breath. They were playing with fire. But for the first time in a long time, she didn't mind getting burned.