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He leaned in, getting so close I thought he might end up with whipped cream on his nose. An image of me licking the cream off flashed through my mind, and I struggled to push the appealing thought away.

A low hum came from Ethan. “Mickey cannot know this was here.” There was a seriousness in his voice.

“Duly noted.”

“I love Red’s maple custard, but Sparky’s cream pie—oh man. I honestly love them both, but I’d be in so much trouble if that got around.”

“Consider me your hookup.” I winked at him.

“Hopefully, my dinner is worthy to serve before this.” He closed the lid and took the box.

“I’m sure it will be.”

“Keep me company while I cook?” He led me through to the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, iced hibiscus tea, beer?”

“The tea sounds great.” Did he know I liked that flavor or did he like it too?

I leaned against the kitchen island, watching as he moved confidently around the space. Despite the boxes scattered throughout, the kitchen seemed well-organized, with equipment and ingredients laid out just so.

“How were the final preparations today?” Ethan asked, handing me the tea before returning to the stove where he was working on the salmon.

“Good. Everything’s ready.” I took a sip of tea. “Wow. This is fantastic. And how about you? Ready for it? Like I said, I’m happy to help if you need it.”

“I’m as ready as I can be. I’ve been practicing with my moms and Liam. I didn’t want to bother you with it. You’ve already helped a lot with judging stuff.”

Despite his words, his voice held a hint of tension as he checked the vegetables roasting in the oven. I felt bad that he didn’t think he could ask.

“The offer still stands if you need it. But, having seen you in action this week, I’m sure you’ll be wonderful.”

He shot me a grateful look. “Thanks. Though right now I’d rather not think about it. I’ll be anxious enough tomorrow. Tonight I’d like to focus on cooking a tasty meal and hanging out with you.”

“It already smells incredible.” I watched as he expertly flipped the salmon. “Can I help with anything?”

“Nope. You’re my guest.” He gestured at me to stay where I was.

We fell into easy conversation as he cooked, discussing everything from other summer festivals to hockey camp. He seemed so at ease, precise and confident in a way that reminded me of how I’d seen him move on the ice when I watched games.

“I was thinking we could sit outside. It’s a pleasant evening.” He moved the salmon fillets onto plates and then pulled the tray of vegetables out of the oven.

“That sounds great.”

“Do you want anything different to drink? Normally I’d offer wine with this, but I forgot to pick any up when I was at the store.” He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it again. The way some fell over his forehead was ridiculously cute.

“No worries.” I raised my glass. “The tea is perfect.”

“If you’ll grab my glass”—he gestured near the stove—“we can head out.”

Ethan took the plates and I followed with his tea.

The view from the deck was amazing. Trees stretched out before us, framed by the rustic wooden rails. The edge of the lake shimmered in the evening light. In the soft breeze, leaves rustled and waves lapped at the lake’s shore. This was an ideal place to relax.

“I hope you enjoy it,” Ethan said once we were settled at the table, where he’d already placed silverware and napkins.

He’d perfectly cooked the salmon. It flaked at the slightest touch from my fork. “Wow,” I exclaimed after the first bite. “This is amazing.”

“Thanks.” A slight blush colored his cheeks. “I got into cooking a couple of years ago. It’s relaxing, you know? Following recipes, getting everything right.”

“Well, I’m impressed.” I gestured at my plate with my fork. “My cooking skills are more breakfast based.”