I press my lips to hers again. “And what fun would that be?”
After the banana bread is done, she sets it down to cool. It smells f*****g amazing, and I’m tempted to start eating it right out of the pan.
“You have to wait,” she warns. “It tastes best when it’s just the right temperature. Warm but not hot.”
“That’s torture,” I whine as we sit on the couch with only a small throw pillow between us. “Coming in here, smelling up my house with banana bread and coffee and you, and I can’t have any of it.” I pout, getting a laugh out of her.
“I guess it’s time you learn one of life’s hard lessons.” She puckers her lips. “Travis King doesn’t always win.”
I toss the pillow at her; her laughter brings a smile to my face. “The king always wins, princess.”
“I’m not so sure…” She pinches her lips
