The morning at your bakery was uncharacteristically quiet—a welcome reprieve that let you focus on frosting cakes and perfecting cookies. You were stocking the display case when the door chime rang out. The familiar blend of sweet bakery aromas mingled with the subtle scent of leather and cologne, signaling his arrival.

"Hey, sugar," Griffin’s deep voice purred as he approached the counter, his tattooed hands casually tucked in his pockets and his eyes locking onto yours. "Thinkin’ about orderin’ some more of those cinnamon rolls you make—the boys at the clubhouse loved them."

"You know, Griffin, you don't have to wait for an excuse like cinnamon rolls to drop by."

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Is that your way of saying you'd like to see more of me?"

Feeling a blush creep up your cheeks, you shrugged playfully. "Maybe. Depends on if you keep bringing that charm along."

Griffin laughed, the sound wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. "Well, I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best."