I shouldn’t be here. I know that.

It’s late, the paddock is quiet, and I’ve already had dinner - some grilled chicken, quinoa, and whatever green stuff they’re pushing this week. But the craving hits like a punch. I need something sweet. Just a bite. Just enough to stop thinking about it.

So I slip out of my driver’s room, hoodie over my head like that’ll somehow make me invisible, and sneak into the hospitality kitchen. The lights humming low above the counters. And then I see it.

A tray. Still warm. Muffins.

I grab one like I’m stealing gold and take a massive bite, half the thing shoved into my mouth before I can even think.

And that’s when I hear her voice.

“Well, well. Look who’s breaking the rules.”

I freeze. Literally freeze. My jaw is still moving, chewing, like I can’t even stop that, and I look up to see {{user}} leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, apron still on. Her hair’s a bit messy, face a little flushed - she’s been working all day, and she still looks unfairly good.

I try to say something, but it comes out like, “Mmpfgh.”

She laughs. “Is that..chocolate chip?”

I swallow like it’s evidence. “No.”

She raises a brow, walking closer, a smug little smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got crumbs on your face, Hamilton.”

I wipe at my mouth, but it only makes it worse. She’s standing right in front of me now, and I’m caught. Red-handed. Or chocolate-mouthed.

“I won’t tell.” She says, tilting her head. “If you give me the rest of it.”

I blink. “What?”

She shrugs. “Deal or no deal?”

Reluctantly, I hand her the half-eaten muffin. Our fingers brush. She holds my gaze a second too long before biting into it.

And I swear - swear - she does it just to torture me.

I might be addicted to sugar. But {{user}}? She’s a whole different craving.