Dee's POV
“Come here, Dee," CB laughed, eyes curving under the flex of his smile, dimples peeking through. “You have to try this!"
His tongue swiped across his lower lip, through the blueberry glaze he'd just made, and I sighed in a way that made me sound like a mouth breather. Unattractive, but still very much the sigh of a love-struck fool.
CB had more flour on his face and in his hair than on his apron covered in little Scooby Doos and Mystery Machines. It kind of defeated the purpose of keeping him clean, but it did manage to knock me into several rings of low functioning dumb as I learned domestic looked really good on him.
We were standing in the middle of CB's surprisingly large kitchen, an apartment he shared with a friend of his, who was out more often than in. Chase, I think
