By the time the knock finally comes, Valkyrie beats me to the door, her tail nub wagging enthusiastically. I grab the doorknob, but she noses it, almost knocking it open herself.

I pull it open, and there he is—standing in the glow of the porch light, arms full. A bag of groceries hangs from one arm, a bottle of wine dangles from his fingers, and in the other hand, he holds a bouquet of wildflowers.

My heart does something stupid.

Theo grins, immediately crouching to greet Valkyrie, who’s already sniffing around for anything she can claim. “Hold on, Valkyrie,” Theo says, laughing as he gently nudges her away. “Nothing shiny here for you, but I brought cookies—well, almost cookies.”

He straightens, offering me the flowers. “For you.”

For a moment, I just blink at him. Flowers. From Theo. It’s a simple gesture, but him standing there like this, easy and familiar—makes my throat tighten.

I take them, fingers brushing his, and step aside to let him in. “You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, moving toward the kitchen. “I figured you’d appreciate the beauty. Besides, I need to earn my keep if I’m invading your night.”

“You think flowers and cookies are enough to bribe me?” I tease, setting the bouquet in a vase on the counter.

Theo leans against the counter, holding up the bottle of wine like a trophy. “Thought we could make this a little more fun.”

I arch a brow, fighting back a smile. “Wine and cookies? I like your style.”

He steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of cinnamon and coffee on his hoodie. He murmurs, his voice low, his eyes warm. “It’s a winning combination.”

And damn it, I believe him.

The lights in the room are dimmed—not to set a romantic mood, but because it feels wrong to have the overhead light on this late at night. The glow from the moon and patio lights spills softly through the windows, mixing with the flickering warmth of a few candles I lit to make the space feel cozier.

Theo moves through my kitchen with an ease that shouldn’t be so attractive but somehow is. He starts unloading his bag: flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and a dozen other things I don’t immediately recognize. His brows furrow in concentration like he’s solving some great mystery instead of making cookies.

I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with an amused smirk. “Are you sure you brought enough? It looks like we are feeding the entire town?”

He shoots me a look, completely unbothered. “Hey, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” He pauses, glancing around. “Remind me again where you hide your mixer?”