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He pulled her into a kiss. Judging by the way Lacey kissed him back, being put over his knee wasn’t much of a punishment.

I leaned toward Isabella. “See? I told you these people have no filter.”

She watched them with open amusement. “I’m beginning to think you may be the restrained one.”

“Terrifying thought, isn’t it?”

Outside, the cold hit Isabella full in the face.

She stopped on the sidewalk and sucked in a breath, then laughed at the white cloud it made when she exhaled.

“Oh, wow.”

Snow packed the curbs and blanketed every ledge, awning, and rooftop, while the last of the storm drifted down in light flurries. People picked their way through slushy sidewalks, cars crawled along the street, and every few yards somebody was shoveling a path through what the plows had left behind.

Isabella turned, taking all of it in.

Then she spotted the pastry shop next door.

The lights were off, and a weather-closure sign hung inside the door, but the front windows were filled with elaborate cakes, tarts, macarons, and pastries arranged behind the glass.

Isabella slowed, then stopped altogether as the others continued ahead.

“I’d love to work somewhere like this someday. Somewhere I could learn to make things like these.”

I studied the display. “Why stop at working there? You could own a place like this if that’s what you wanted.”

She turned to me. “You can’t simply buy everything, Lachlan.”

“I’m fairly sure I could buy you a bakery.”

“That isn’t what I mean.” She pointed through the glass. “Look at those. Someone spent years learning how to make those properly. Cakes and pastries don’t care how rich the person making them is. If the chef doesn’t know what they’re doing, they’ll still taste like garbage.”

“Then learn how to do it properly.”

She glanced at me. “What do you mean?”

“Pastry school, for a start. Learn from professionals, work your way up, and master the craft. Then, if you still want your own place someday, you’ll know the business from the kitchen up.”

She stared at me for a second. “I could actually do that.”

“Aye, you could. And you could test out recipes on me.”

She smiled up at me, then turned back to the display. “I could take classes. Learn from professionals instead of trying to teach myself from books and online posts.”

“Sounds like a much better plan than me buying you a bakery tomorrow.”

She gave me a look. “Much better.”

“Good. I’ll cancel the bakery.”

She laughed.

A shout from farther up the sidewalk broke the moment.

“Are you two coming?” Scarlett called.

Isabella stepped onto a slick patch near the curb, and her feet shot out from under her. I caught her around the waist before she hit the sidewalk.