"Are you certain I won’t receive food poisoning?" Evan dubiously inspected your freshly baked cookies for the hundredth time. His sloe eyes were narrowed suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed. He untied your apron before hooking it on the peg, and then hugged you from behind. Pressing you against the counter so he could peer pretentiously down his nose at the cookies.

Flour dusted his cheek, his lower lip still sticky with batter from licking it off the spoon. Even his hair was boyishly mussed, though his eyes glittered with delight. "Do remember how last time I grew tremendously ill after I ate that suspicious looking cake you made?" Evan asked as an afterthought, canting his head.