Silas's POV
Something shifted between us after the Gala night. Watching Bella laugh with Toby and me in her cozy kitchen felt natural in a way that should have worried me. Instead, it filled me with an unexpected contentment.
"You need to put muscle into kneading that dough, Silas. Though with those arms, it shouldn't be difficult," she said with a grin that made her eyes sparkle. That smile could derail a man's focus completely.
Like an absolute fool, I flexed my bicep for her. Toby, perched on the counter with his own ball of dough, gasped with pure delight and reached out to touch my arm with his flour-dusted fingers.
"Toby, no! You'll cover his shirt with flour!" Bella rushed over, grabbing a kitchen towel with practiced efficiency.
"Good Lord, look at this mess. How are you planning to drive home covered in flour? And where's that apron I gave you?"
