Page 31 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

He stopped.

Liv's throat closed.

"I was five seconds too slow."

The kitchen went quiet except for the soft bubble of sugar on the stove.

"Cooking gives me control," Mike said finally, picking up the knife again. "Comfort. I might mess up a glaze, but no one dies because I over-sugar."

Emotion tightened Liv's throat. "That's why you fight so hard in the kitchen."

He looked at her, surprised.

"It's not about ego," she said. "Not really. It's belief. You believe in the routine. The rhythm. It's your armor." She paused. "Just like food was mine when New York chewed me up and spit me out."

They stood in silence for a moment, her eyes full of understanding, his gaze warm but lingering on something more.

Mike reached out. Brushed her cheek with his thumb, slow, deliberate. "You've got flour."

Her breath caught. "Occupational hazard," she managed.

His hand didn't move. Just stayed there, warm against her skin, his thumb tracing the edge of her jaw like he was memorizing the shape of her.

She should step back.

She didn't.

Then he grinned and reached past her, dipping a finger into the half-made cobbler filling.

"Hey," she said, swatting at him.

He popped his finger into his mouth, eyes rolling. "Oh. That's criminal. Illegal. You should be arrested."

"You're such a child." She was flustered now, cheeks warm. "Here. Try it properly."

She scooped a spoonful and held it out.

His mouth closed gently around the bite she offered and their eyes locked.

He chewed slowly. Swallowed. "Yep," he said. "I'm in love."

"Easy, cowboy."

"With the cobbler," he added. "Naturally."

She smirked. "Obviously."

The silence between them was suddenly full of everything they weren't quite saying.

The kitchen door banged open.

They jumped apart like teenagers caught in a coat closet.

Arletta stood there, hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised toward the ceiling. "Mike Watkins, you said you'd check that smoker ten minutes ago. The pork's about to achieve liftoff."

Mike scrubbed a hand over his face. "Right. Yeah. Smoker. I'm—I'm going."

Arletta's eyes cut to Liv, then back to Mike. Her mouth twitched. "Mm-hmm."