“So you’re starving. Why make yourself suffer when it’s me you’re mad at? Here.” Gavin stepped back, giving CJ plenty of room and space to enter on his own terms, like he’d have done for a hurting stray animal. Meanwhile, he piled up a plate with food and set it at the table, gambling on the fact that CJ wouldn’t spite himself just to snub his long-ago ex.

After a long hesitation, CJ took the bait. He came in and sat heavily, like maybe he was exhausted. Probably for the same reason Piper always was. Budget cuts had caused hiring freezes, leaving the police, fire, and other emergency response agencies far too understaffed.

CJ began to inhale his food, and when he caught Gavin watching, staring really, because he couldn’t seem to help himself, he quirked a brow. “What, you’ve never seen a guy eat before?”

“You look good, Ceej.”

CJ looked away, but not before Gavin caught the slight color to his cheeks. “You forgot the crepes,” CJ said. “We always had crepes for dessert.”

Gavin’s breath caught at the memories. “Crepes were your specialty.” Crepes and tacos. There was just something about the way CJ put his heart and soul into anything he cooked, but especially those two things. “I haven’t had them since . . .” Gavin trailed off, feeling a shocking desire and longing for that time in his life. Back then, everything had felt so complicated, but had really been the simplest—and best—years of his life.

Without another word, CJ rose, and Gavin thought that was it, the guy was out. But instead, CJ made himself at home at the stove and began to make crepes.

Watching him move in the kitchen like he’d been born to it brought back a whole bunch of memories. It’d been CJ who taught him how to cook in the first place. He could probably run any kitchen in the world and yet . . . “So. A cop, huh?”

CJ froze for a single beat and then kept whipping the eggs and flour. “You’re just surprised because you have authority issues.”

Yeah, he did. Serious ones. He watched CJ carefully pour the first crepe into the pan, wait until it bubbled and got to the perfect color, before using nothing but the pan handle and a flick of his wrist to flip the crepe.

Four minutes later, it was CJ’s turn to hand Gavin a plate, with a rolled crepe stuffed with the raspberries and blueberries he’d found in the fridge, topped with powdered sugar.

Gavin took one bite and moaned.

CJ’s gaze went straight to his mouth.

“And I’m surprised,” Gavin said quietly, picking up their conversation where they’d left off. “Because I seem to remember the both of us running from the cops. More than once.”