The bell above the shop door had long stopped ringing for customers, but you stayed anyway—perched on the counter like you belonged there.

Wally worked in silence, sleeves rolled, hands steady despite the roughness carved into them. The dull thud of his knife against the block filled the room, controlled and precise. He didn’t look up, but he knew you were watching.

You always were.

A soft sound—barely there. When he glanced over, you were already smiling, blowing him a kiss like it was nothing. Then a wink, quick and playful.

His jaw tightened.

“Focus.” He muttered, voice low, blunt as ever.

But his rhythm faltered.

You didn’t stop. Another kiss, lighter this time, like you were testing him. Teasing him. Pushing.

The knife came down harder than before.

“Keep that up.” He said, not looking at you now. “and you’re gonna regret it.”

It wasn’t a threat. Not really.

You only smiled wider.

The next thing you knew, the knife was set aside. Heavy footsteps crossed the space between you in seconds. His presence hit before his hands did—warm, solid, unavoidable.

He stopped right in front of you, close enough that the teasing suddenly didn’t feel so easy anymore.