“This is a disaster.”

Rafe smirked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he watched you struggle with the mixer. “You’re being dramatic, Bunny.”

You shot him a glare, flicking flour at him. “Dramatic? Rafe, the batter is soupy—it’s supposed to be thick.”

He glanced at the mess on the counter—flour dusting every surface, eggshells scattered, a streak of chocolate on your cheek that you hadn’t noticed. “It’s fine,” he said, unconcerned. “Just add more flour.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not how baking works.”

Rafe shrugged, grabbing the bag of flour anyway. But before he could pour it in, you stopped him. “No, no—slowly, or else—”

Too late. A cloud of flour exploded between you, covering both of you in white dust. There was a moment of stunned silence before Rafe burst out laughing, the kind of deep, genuine laugh that made your stomach flip.

You stared at him, unamused, wiping flour from your face. “You are literally the worst.”

Rafe grinned, reaching out to brush some off your cheek. “Yeah?” His fingers lingered, eyes flicking from yours to your lips. “You still love me, though.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Jury’s still out.”

He smirked, stepping closer. “Liar.”

And then—before you could react—he swiped frosting from the bowl and smeared it across your nose.

You gasped. “Rafe Cameron!”

He only laughed, backing up like he already knew you were about to retaliate. “Come on, Bunny, don’t—”

Too late. You grabbed a handful of frosting and smeared it right across his cheek.

Rafe froze, tongue running over his lip as he looked at you, eyes darkening. “You think that was a good idea?”

You grinned, heart racing. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He didn’t answer. He just grabbed you by the waist, spinning you around until your back hit the counter, his body pressing against yours. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low. “Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

And suddenly, baking was the last thing on your mind.