25

Sienna

The door to my bakery opened, and the familiar scent of cedarwood invaded my nostrils. "Hey, Forrest," I said without looking up from the dough I was kneading.

He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and nuzzled his face into my neck. "Hey," he whispered. "You're not ready for our date."

As promised, we had plans to go on our second date. However, as Thanksgiving was drawing near, I found myself occupied with baking an excessive number of pies, leaving me with very little time for anything else.

"I was thinking— "

"Oh no," Forrest chuckled. "That can't be good."

I playfully elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey now, my thinking has led to some pretty great ideas. Like pumpkin spice cream cheese, for instance."

"Fair point," he conceded, releasing me from his embrace. "So, what brilliant idea has that beautiful mind of yours conjured up this time?"

I turned to face him, dusting flour off my hands. "Well, I was thinking maybe we could have our date right here. I still have a lot to do, and I've got an apple strudel coming out of the oven in about ten minutes."

Forrest's eyes lit up. "A cozy night in the bakery with you and your pastries? Sounds like a perfect date to me."

"Great!" I smiled, relieved he wasn't disappointed. "Let me just finish up these pies so I can get them in the oven!"

"Sienna, let me help you," he offered.

I wasn't used to accepting help, but I needed it.

"Okay, you can help me with the lattice topping."

I gently guided his hands to place the lattice crust on top of the pie, instructing him to place each strip with care and precision. We carefully weaved the dough strips over and under each other, creating a beautiful and intricate pattern that would bake into golden perfection.

The timer for the oven dinged, indicating the strudel was done.

"Think you can take it from here?"

"Definitely," he said as he weaved another strip. "This is fun."

Forrest's simple contentment was truly admirable. His easy satisfaction with life was something I found endearing.

As I entrusted Forrest with the pie, I carefully retrieved the golden-brown strudel from the oven.

"Wow," Forrest said. He was practically drooling already. "That smells fantastic."

I carefully slid the strudel onto a cooling rack, savoring the sweet aroma that filled the kitchen. Forrest hovered nearby, eyeing the pastry with unconcealed eagerness.

"How long do we have to wait?" he asked, fidgeting impatiently.

I laughed. "Just a few minutes."

As we waited, I grabbed plates and napkins from the cupboard. Forrest paced back and forth, sneaking glances at the strudel every few seconds as if afraid it might disappear. Finally, I deemed it cool enough to eat. Once cut, I placed a slice on each of our plates, the pastry still steaming slightly. Forrest wasted no time digging in.

"Wow," he mumbled through a mouthful. "Truly incredible," he added after swallowing.

I smiled at his words, taking a bite of my slice. The flaky pastry crumbled delicately, revealing the warm apple filling inside.

"Your pastries are the best I've ever had," he declared.

"I'm glad you like them."

He reached for another slice, his eyes twinkling. "Like them? I'm in love. With your pastries, I mean," he added hastily, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his voice.

I laughed, breaking the moment of tension. "Well, my pastries and I appreciate your devotion."

Forrest took another big bite of the apple strudel, closing his eyes in bliss as he savored it. A small dab of apple filling clung to the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, I reached out and gently wiped it away with my thumb .

His eyes flew open, meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. For a moment, we stood frozen, my hand still hovering near his face.

"Sienna," he said softly, his voice husky. "I—"

The timer on the oven buzzed loudly again, shattering the moment. I jumped back, flustered, and hurried to pull out the pies.

"Sorry," I mumbled, fumbling with the oven mitts. "Just need to get the next batch in. It'll be another hour or so until they're done."

Forrest nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. "I have time," he whispered.

"Okay," I managed, hating how breathless I sounded.

"So," Forrest said, leaning against the counter. "What should we do while we wait?" He was standing so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

I turned to face him, my heart racing. "I—I don't know," I stammered, cursing my inability to form a coherent thought.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. His hand brushed my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "I might have an idea," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips .

My breath caught in my throat as Forrest's hand cupped my cheek. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to just the two of us at that moment.

"I could write a novel about how much I love kissing you," he said softly, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "You taste even sweeter than your pastries."

I leaned into his touch, savoring the roughness of his calloused palm against my skin.

A slow smile spread across Forrest's face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in the way I adored. He leaned in closer, his breath warm on my lips.

"I can't get enough of you," he murmured.

His lips met mine in a tender kiss that quickly deepened. I melted against him, my fingers tangling in his thick hair as his strong arms encircled my waist.

"I'm still taking you out on a proper second date," he whispered.

"I had a feeling you would say that," I giggled.

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes smoldering as they met mine. "I want to do this right," he said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "You deserve to be wooed properly."

I cupped his face in my hands, marveling at the tenderness in his expression. "You don't need to woo me. You've already captured my heart."