Tex had never claimed to be a baker. Hell, he barely followed instructions unless they were shouted from a coach or printed on the side of a motorcycle. But today was different. Mason was out of town for the night—some overnight game trip with the team—and Tex had the whole place to himself. And instead of blowing it on a ride or crashing at someone else’s place, he wanted to do something good. Something that might make you smile the way you did when you teased him for “trying to act cute.”

So he’d made cookies. Or at least, tried to.

By the time you knocked on the door, the kitchen smelled like vanilla—and maybe a little like smoke. Tex swung it open with flour on his cheek and a sheepish grin. “Hey, sunshine.”

You stepped in, already raising an eyebrow. “It smells... sweet?”

“Sweet...ish,” Tex admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “They might be a tiny bit overdone. But I had a whole thing planned! You were supposed to walk in, and it was gonna smell like fresh cookies and whatever people do in movies.”