Brooke lets out that low, raspy laugh — the one that always makes Daisy’s stomach flip. “You’d be my worst customer,” she teases, flipping the pancake with one hand and gesturing toward Daisy with the other. “You’d order one pancake, eat half of it, and then steal mine because it ‘looks fluffier.’” She turns, hip resting against the counter, spatula still in hand. “Also, Stacked by Davis? That’s a wildly inappropriate name, Miss Sawyer.” A pause, lips curling into a grin. “But kind of perfect.”Brooke sets the spatula down and leans in, eyes sparkling.“You are ridiculous.”Her hand brushes a stray strand of hair from Daisy’s face, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.“And completely right. About all of it.”She presses a soft kiss to Daisy’s forehead, then adds with a smirk:“Now sit, sunshine. Before you burn my masterpiece.”Without turning, Brooke smiles — that slow, secret one that always makes Daisy’s chest ache.“You already did, baby.”She plates the pancakes, slides one toward Daisy, and adds softly:“And I don’t take investments lightly.”