“Sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me. Why don’t I have a look? I enjoy cooking.” Letting my brain have a break from all this is just a bonus.

Masen’s fridge is full, I just need to decide what to make. He’s standing two feet to my left and has been since I stood up. I tested it by walking to the pantry. He stays the same distance anytime I move. I’m thinking about breaking out into a dance to see if he’d follow that. A small laugh leaks out when I get a visual.

“What are you laughing at, Little One?”

Now, I really laugh because there’s no way I’m telling him. “Just thinking, Masen. Don’t worry, I’m not going to poison you,” I tease. “Any requests?”

He quickly answers, “I want you to make what you made Cass so I can tell him to shut up about how good it was and about how you cooked for him. Oh, and I need dessert. Cass got cake.”

Is he serious? By the self-satisfied smile he’s wearing, I think he is. “Who knew the Alpha was such a baby?” I coo to him.

His smile falls. Oh I was just joking. He looks so cute and full of himself. “Hey Big Guy, I’m just teasing. Guess what?” I raise my brows, waiting for him to respond.

“What?” He sulks. My goodness.

“I may have made you cookies this morning. If Sniffer didn’t steal yours out of my Jeep, they should still be in the back seat.”

He smiles back full force. “You made cookies this morning? Wait. Did you say if Cass didn’t steal mine? He got some to?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, he did. Yours are bigger. I was trying to butter you up so I’d get into your pack,” I laugh.

“If he took them, I’m going over there to beat his ass right now. Then, I’ll take all the damn cookies.”

Shaking my head. “Masen, if he took your cookies, there won’t be any left. He’s kind of a piggy.”

“I really like it when you say my name, baby.” His voice is deeper than just a few moments ago.

He moves closer, abandoning his two-foot rule. I think I need the two feet because the way he just said that has me wanting to say his name again and again. I take a step back regaining the space but smile up at him. “How tall are you anyway?” I can tell by his face he knows how he affects me.

He leaves the space between us but bends so his face is near mine. “Six foot five.” His breath fans my cheek. Still close, his nose brushes mine. “I’m going to get my cookies,” is what he says, but it feels like he’s saying something altogether different. I just nod and swallow, not sure what I’m agreeing to.

He’s out the door in a flash, and I lean against the counter to keep myself standing. I’m way out of my element. I’m playing t-ball, and he’s in the major leagues.