Once we get our ingredients into the bowl, I lift the whisk he brought over between us. “This will snap or get stuck, either way, it’s a no-go. When you work with dough like this, you have to use your hands.”

He eyes me curiously, but I spin on my heels, glancing at the other boys’ table on my way back to the materials wall. They haven’t even gotten past the flour, too busy laughing and joking between themselves.

Dropping the thick plastic item in the sanitization bin, I stretch over the countertop to reach for two pairs of gloves. As I pull out a pair of large ones, a body comes up behind me, pinning me in, and suddenly my hands are empty.

My head snaps to the side, fully expecting an entirely different pair of eyes than the ones I find.

Scott stands there with a grin.

I maneuver myself free of his hips, forcing him a few inches back when I spin to face him.

“What are you doing in here, Mr. Gentry?” I cross my arms, quirking a brow.

His grin widens. “Just passing by on my way to the office, saw you through the door, Ms. Filano.”

“And at the perfect time, too.” I lift my hands out slightly and he chuckles.

“What can I say, I’m good at spotting opportunity.” He flicks the face of my belt, his gaze popping up to mine. “You’re coming on Saturday, right?”

My conversation with the girls this morning comes back to me and I nod. “To the infamous seniors-only party, but of course.”

“And so excited about it,” he teases, slipping closer. “Save your dancing for me.”

I shrug, going the intentionally dramatic slow blink route. “If you’re lucky.”

“Oh, if I’m lucky.” He slides the latex of the gloves along my arm, his smirk overconfident and far too easily called on. “Interesting.”

I grab a hold of the gloves, and he lets them go, his eyes following my hand when I extend my arm beyond his bicep.

Arsen steps up with an aura of confidence I should expect yet find myself charmed by.

Scott’s glare is pointed right at Arsen, but he gives him not a moment’s attention. His face remains blank as he takes the outstretched gloves and turns his body sideways, so he’s now facing ours. His muscular arm glides beside my head to grab the size small I need for myself.

As he backs away, he decides it’s time to go, and hooks his middle finger with mine at my side.

Arsen tugs me forward with his backward steps.

I fight a grin when Scott doubles down on his frown.

“I have to go.” I slip past him, playfully whispering, “My partner needs me.”